Chapter 155 – The Sealed Realm
The buoyant force that caught Charles after his fall did not leave him suspended in midair.
Instead, it slowed him gently—gradually—until he descended like a body sinking through deep water.
Time itself seemed to have been stretched thin, slowed a thousandfold.
At last, solid ground met his feet.
Though his eyes saw only white, he could feel the terrain beneath him—uneven stone, ridged and dipped like mountain paths.
Which made him wonder:
If the ground was real… then what else lay hidden beneath this blinding white?
Rock formations? Subterranean plants? Something alive?
The thought flickered through his mind—but he dismissed it quickly.
Fear was useless here.
Instead, he moved cautiously in the direction indicated moments ago by Eye of Reality.
From above, during his fall, he had glimpsed his destination.
But now, standing upon the ground, it was nowhere to be seen.
Every direction was pure white.
No color. No contrast.
Yet Eye of Reality did not lie.
Which meant the meteorite was there—concealed behind something.
"Is this white void part of the Seal?" he muttered.
Trusting the guidance of his ability, he continued forward.
Gradually, something different entered his vision.
Like stumbling upon a hidden obstacle in thick fog, it only became visible once he drew close enough.
A branch.
Gray-white.
Lying silently at his feet.
Charles crouched and examined it. The broken grain, the withered texture—details emerged as if pushing through the mist.
He frowned thoughtfully.
"Snapped… by force?"
As he continued walking, more branches appeared.
Some intact. Some shattered. Some dried black. Some still bearing dark-red leaves.
It was impossible not to recall the Three-Eyed Raven's earlier words:
"We released the Great Other… but its power exceeded our control."
Eventually, Charles found himself standing before a gray-white forest.
---
Without hesitation, he stepped inside.
Twisted tree trunks materialized faintly through the white haze.
Eye of Reality flagged something unusual.
He reached out and touched one.
A voice sounded within his mind.
"Continue forward. You will find what you seek."
The voice was aged and steady.
The Three-Eyed Raven.
"Touch the weirwoods. I will guide you…"
The voice faded as Charles withdrew his hand.
He pressed deeper into the forest.
Everything remained white.
Only the nearby trunks and branches possessed faint outlines of gray-black solidity.
From time to time, Charles touched another trunk, communicating silently with the latent consciousness within.
Between Eye of Reality and the Raven's guidance, he avoided stumbling blindly through the woods.
At last, he reached a clearing.
Beyond it, the trees could extend no further.
Through the endless white, a flicker of icy blue light shimmered in the distance.
It twisted in irregular lines—like a strand of lightning suspended within the void.
At first glance, it resembled living electricity.
Or a strange rope of light.
But Eye of Reality clarified the truth instantly.
The meteorite.
Its distorted shape was merely an effect of this strange spatial concealment.
Charles stepped closer.
The blue lightning thickened.
Gradually, its true outline emerged.
An irregular stone—blue and white interwoven.
Roughly two men wide.
Nearly as tall as Charles.
Deep blue veins pulsed across its surface, blending with the surrounding white like two colors of dye merging—intermingling, yet not fully becoming one.
Around it, gray-white weirwood branches wrapped tightly—coated in frost, varying in thickness, binding the meteorite from top to bottom.
The Seal.
The true body of the Great Other.
Standing before it, Charles felt no immediate malice.
No roaring voice.
No oppressive aura.
Only stillness.
Cold.
And an ancient, immeasurable weight pressing invisibly against the fabric of reality.
The stone—seemingly fused with this white world—radiated waves of cold.
Whether that chill came from the meteorite itself or from the Seal wrapped around it, Charles couldn't tell. Strangely, he didn't feel cold at all.
After observing it for a moment, he reached out and lightly touched one of the weirwood branches binding the stone.
Instantly—
A surge of piercing cold shot through his fingertips.
It felt exactly like the massive black ice boulder that had blocked the cave entrance earlier—too frigid to endure for more than a heartbeat. He barely brushed it before jerking his hand back.
Retreating into the white forest behind him, Charles touched the trunk of another tree and asked:
"It's incomplete, isn't it?"
"Yes," the aged voice echoed within his mind.
"In the first great war, the Great Other's physical shell was shattered. At its height, it was as large as King's Landing. What you see now is only its core."
Charles stared at the meteorite, now half-obscured again in the white haze—only a jagged streak of deep blue visible.
"So this is just an empty core? No consciousness?"
"Correct," said the Three-Eyed Raven.
"It is merely a husk. Its will now runs rampant across the Lands of Always Winter."
"Rampant… as the White Walkers?"
"The White Walkers are manifestations of its will."
Charles nodded slowly.
Then his brow furrowed.
Eye of Reality told him clearly: within that indistinct stone lay a fragment of this world's Truth—the very thing he had come to find.
But how was he supposed to touch it?
"With my hand?"
He hesitated, then asked, "Can I physically make contact with it?"
"I advise against it," came the calm reply. "Your body may not endure it."
"Not even for a moment?"
"Perhaps for a moment. But I do not believe it would benefit you."
Charles stroked his chin thoughtfully.
Then an idea struck him.
He pulled a parchment inscribed with arcane sigils from his coat, intending to ignite his hand in flame first—creating a buffer before touching the stone.
But no matter how he tried, he could not summon fire.
"This place suppresses magic," the Raven warned.
"You may cast spells beneath the gaze of the Old Gods—but not here. This place is steeped in darkness."
"Darkness?" Charles looked around at the endless white. "Here?"
"Yes," the Raven replied.
"The Lion of Night's power permeates this place. The light you see is but an illusion."
Charles exhaled slowly.
If fire magic was blocked… what about necromancy?
But none of the necromantic spells he knew would help him now.
With no magical solution available, he realized there was only one option left.
He would have to touch it directly.
He stepped back toward the meteorite.
The white-and-deep-blue surface shimmered faintly before him—beautiful, alien.
He gritted his teeth and reached out.
The moment his palm made contact—
Agony.
Not ordinary cold.
Not frostbite.
It was cold so absolute it felt like burning oil—like plunging his hand into boiling metal.
A split second of numbness—
Then searing pain.
Charles recoiled instantly, clutching his hand. The skin had turned blackened, as though scorched.
He hissed between his teeth.
If not for his enhanced physique and unique talents, that hand would have been ruined.
Another person would have paid a far greater price.
Yet despite the pain—
He gained nothing.
No revelation.
No resonance.
Only injury.
The Truth was right there—
And he couldn't reach it.
Or perhaps simple contact was meaningless.
"What am I missing…" he muttered.
He reviewed everything he'd learned.
A celestial meteorite.
Sealed.
Bound by weirwood and Old Gods.
Three components.
The Old Gods were clearly not the Truth.
And touching the meteorite's surface had yielded nothing.
"So… the Lion of Night?"
"Or its power?"
That seemed more plausible.
According to the Raven, the Lion of Night embodied the dark half of the world itself.
If any force represented fundamental Truth, it would be that.
But if that were the case—
He had a problem.
The meteorite had already devoured that power.
The Lion's essence was fused into it.
To extract that power would mean tearing the meteorite apart.
Which meant destroying the Great Other.
And if ancient gods had failed to do so over tens of thousands of years…
What chance did he—a newcomer of mere months—have?
After a long silence, Charles shook his head and stepped back into the forest.
He placed his hand once more upon a weirwood branch.
"Can you help me recover memories hidden deep within my soul?" he asked quietly.
There was a pause.
"Memories hidden within your soul?" The Raven sounded faintly surprised.
Then:
"I cannot."
Charles wasn't shocked.
He sighed, already accepting that this journey might end here.
But then—
The Raven continued.
"However… I may be able to help you see yourself clearly."
And for the first time since entering the Sealed Realm—
A spark of hope stirred within Charles Cranston.