Chapter 154 – The Black-and-White World
The reason Charles had given that order to his soldiers was simple.
He could not see the Three-Eyed Raven's "favorability."
Yes—he simply couldn't.
The Eye of Reality allowed him to perceive the attitudes of his soldiers toward him. He could see the Melisandre's goodwill or hostility. He could even read the emotions of the Children of the Forest.
But the Three-Eyed Raven?
Nothing.
That corpse-like old man fused into the weirwood tree—Charles could not detect even the faintest trace of genuine emotion from him.
Eye of Reality was far sharper than the naked eye. Charles trusted it completely.
And yet the Raven felt like… an actual tree.
Unmoved by wind or rain. Detached from all things. Expressionless beyond measure.
Charles even began to wonder whether the emotions the Raven displayed while speaking were genuine—or merely a carefully crafted illusion.
So, to be safe, he had issued that threat.
Yes.
Those words were meant for the Three-Eyed Raven.
There were no crows nearby. No beasts in sight.
But Charles was certain the Raven would hear.
"If he can merge with animals… what about plants? After all, he himself is rooted like a tree…"
Various thoughts flickered through his mind as he scanned his surroundings.
The once-desolate mountain was now bustling with activity.
The army was methodically establishing camp. Soldiers moved with discipline, preparing for a prolonged stay. Tasks were assigned. Tents erected. Defensive perimeters reinforced.
There was no need for Charles to interfere.
In fact, as a nonprofessional in matters of logistics, he suspected that stepping in would only create confusion.
So he merely observed in silence.
And when the sky gradually dimmed, when twilight surrendered to the approaching darkness—
Charles did not hesitate.
He stepped into the cave once more.
This time, Jon did not accompany him.
Charles went alone.
Even though he had already entered once before, the same Child of the Forest who spoke the Common Tongue came to greet him again.
"I once traveled the human world for over a hundred years," she said as they walked, her voice mature and melodious despite emerging from what looked like a child's body. "Later, my legs grew sore, and I began to miss home. So I turned back and returned here."
Sensing she wished to talk, Charles casually asked, "And what did you think of it?"
"Chaotic," she replied. "Everything south of the Wall is chaotic. But… interesting."
Her tone carried a hint of nostalgia.
"I remember once passing through a small village. A little girl kept following me, tugging at my hand."
"And there was a couple with no children who wanted to adopt me…"
By the time she finished reminiscing, they had already reached the cavern hall where the Three-Eyed Raven resided.
But she did not stop.
The true Seal lay deeper still.
The Three-Eyed Raven could not move and therefore could not guide him. That task fell to the only being here who spoke the Common Tongue.
There was no time for pleasantries.
Charles gave a brief nod toward the corpse entwined in the weirwood. The dead face showed no reaction.
He walked past.
Beyond the hall's flat stone floor stretched another tunnel descending into darkness.
The Child led. Charles followed.
By torchlight, he noticed numerous branching paths along the walls—corridors leading to chambers of varying sizes.
Some chambers were empty.
Others contained weirwoods fused with the bodies of Children of the Forest—strange, silent unions of flesh and tree. Smaller, quieter versions of the Three-Eyed Raven.
As they descended, the air grew damp and heavy. The tunnel walls darkened with moisture. Dripping water echoed around them.
Further down, the sound grew louder—until it became the steady murmur of flowing water.
"There's an underground river?" Charles raised a brow.
"Yes," she answered. "A slow one. Very cold. It holds many blind fish with white eyes."
She glanced back at him and added kindly, "If your soldiers lack food, they could fish there. The water is too cold. None of our kin dwell within it."
"Your kin?" Charles asked.
"Not all Children wish to merge with the weirwoods after death," she explained. "Some long for the sky. Some for the land. Some even for lakes."
"You saw the ravens perched upon the greenseer's arm? Some of them still carry our kin within. Like skinchangers—only… longer."
"And some choose nothing at all."
She paused and gestured toward a dark side chamber.
"Our lives are long compared to humans. So long that they can become unbearable. Many of our kin choose true sleep."
Charles turned.
Within the darkness lay small, delicate skeletons—pale and slender, arranged quietly upon the stone floor.
At a glance, they resembled the bones of human children.
---
They did not speak much after that.
The river's murmur grew into a rushing roar. Soon, they entered a vast underground hall.
It was utterly black.
The torchlight seemed diminished, illuminating barely a meter around them.
Stepping inside felt like falling into a sea of darkness. Above, below, ahead, behind—nothing but cold, endless black.
Charles disliked it.
Something instinctual in him resisted this place.
But anticipation overrode discomfort.
They had arrived.
"The shaft leading to the Seal lies at the center of this hall," the Child explained, walking confidently through the darkness.
She moved without hesitation, clearly accustomed to this subterranean world.
Following her, Charles soon beheld it.
A well.
A vertical shaft of black stone, polished like dark jade.
It lay swallowed by shadow. In the faint torchlight, its rim gleamed with a refined, oily sheen.
But the opening—the descent into whatever lay below—remained utterly unchanged by light.
Instead, the flame seemed to make its darkness glossier.
Like the mouth of some abyssal demon.
---
"What you seek is below," the Child said, striving to keep her voice steady. Yet fear trembled beneath it.
"When the time comes, a faint white will appear upon its surface."
Charles stared at the shaft.
"So…" he hesitated. "I have to jump?"
"I have never gone," she admitted softly. "But I believe so."
Charles swallowed.
The Three-Eyed Raven had assured him that entering the Seal would cause no harm.
Even so, leaping into an unknown abyss was another matter entirely.
It felt like standing at the edge of a bottomless chasm.
But hesitation would change nothing.
When a faint, unnatural white shimmer appeared at the well's surface—
Charles gritted his teeth.
And jumped.
Darkness swallowed him.
The dim torchlight vanished entirely. He plunged through blackness. A hollow, stomach-dropping sensation surged through him as wind howled past his ears.
He saw no walls. No structure. Nothing.
Only black.
An endless void.
Time lost meaning.
Then—
White.
Brilliant, all-encompassing white.
His descent halted abruptly—not with impact, but as if he had fallen into something soft and viscous.
There was no pain. No collision.
Everything felt strangely gentle.
"Am I here?"
He blinked.
He was floating.
Below him stretched an endless white expanse.
No ground. No sky. No horizon.
Only white.
A world without color.
Yet just as he scanned his surroundings—
A notification from the Eye of Reality suddenly appeared before his eyes.