"Everything you saw today. Every word you heard. Tell no one."
Lynn's gaze swept over each face, including the still-trembling Ygritte.
"Not even Lord Commander Mormont."
"And don't mention the horn. Understood?"
Jon was speechless.
If Mormont found out, Lynn would probably be burned as a heretic on the spot.
But to Jon, Lynn was family. He couldn't do that.
"But... but why did that demon..."
Ygritte's voice cracked. She pointed at Lynn, then toward where the Night King had vanished.
"Why did he give you that thing? What's your relationship with him?"
"I think he's controlling you!"
"Or you're already dead!"
Lynn laughed despite himself. The wildling girl was genuinely panicking.
"Relax. I'm fine."
What kind of answer is that?
Ygritte felt like she was losing her mind.
This southerner's brain was more unpredictable than the weather beyond the Wall.
"We're moving."
Lynn didn't explain further. He turned downhill.
"The Frostfangs. You're leading."
Ygritte flinched. Terror deepened on her face.
"I told you—that place is forbidden!"
"The Old Gods will devour our souls!"
"Then stay here and die. Your choice."
Lynn didn't look back.
Ygritte bit her lip, staring at his tall back. She swung her fists wildly as if she could punch him through the air.
But in the end, she gave in and followed.
She'd rather have her soul devoured by Old Gods than stay alone on this cursed mountain.
The group's mood was heavier than before.
In their eyes, Lynn had just completed some mysterious deal with a legendary demon king.
Jon was lost in thought. Several times he tried to speak but didn't know what to ask.
"Stop thinking."
Lynn's voice broke the silence.
"If you can't figure something out, just file it away."
"But I feel like..."
"Like I sold my soul to the devil?"
Lynn smiled.
"If selling my soul brings victory, I wouldn't hesitate."
Jon looked at Lynn's profile. There wasn't a trace of humor in it.
The group turned northwest.
Toward the legendary mountain range that stretched like a beast's fangs—the Frostfangs.
Ygritte resisted with every fiber of her being. But as a free folk raised beyond the Wall, her navigation skills far exceeded these "crows."
She led them around dangerous glacier crevasses and beast dens, though every step terrified her.
Two days later, they reached a vast ice plain.
"CAW—!"
A harsh cry echoed overhead.
They looked up. A raven perched on a dead weirwood nearby.
Larger than normal ravens. And strangest of all—it had three eyes.
The third eye sat in the center of its forehead, gleaming with intelligence.
"A three-eyed crow..."
Ygritte's voice shook. She instinctively nocked an arrow, ready to shoot it down.
"Stop!"
Lynn quickly stopped her.
The three-eyed raven abandoned its escape plan.
It tilted its head, studying Lynn as if confirming something.
Then it took flight, flew a dozen meters in one direction, landed, looked back at them, and cawed again.
Lynn understood. It was leading them.
Ygritte's face went snow-white.
The legends were all coming true. Her legs felt weak.
That powerless feeling—just like when she'd lain in Lynn's arms.
"We're doomed... all of us... the Old Gods sent their messenger to collect us..."
"Shut up."
Lynn glared at her.
He followed the raven without hesitation.
The group followed the three-eyed raven for half a day.
The landscape grew strange.
More and more weirwoods appeared, forming a dense white forest.
Every tree was carved with a face weeping red sap. Thousands of faces silently watching them through the quiet woods.
Finally, the raven stopped before a massive cliff face.
At the base was a cave entrance half-buried in snow. Black. Bottomless.
The raven flew inside and disappeared.
"This is it."
Lynn stared at the entrance.
"I... I'm not going in!"
Ygritte backed away.
"You can't make me!"
Lynn ignored her and walked straight toward the cave.
Jon gritted his teeth and followed.
The three remaining rangers exchanged glances. Fear of the unknown won. They stayed put.
Lynn said nothing. Just led Jon into the cave.
Ygritte hesitated outside for a long time. Finally stamped her foot, cursing, and followed them in.
She feared the strange things inside. But she feared being left alone outside even more.
Only with Lynn did she feel safe.
Inside, the cave was more spacious than expected. And not dark.
Moss growing on the walls emitted soft white light, illuminating the passage.
In the air, faint singing echoed.
Not human. Ethereal and ancient. As if resonating directly in their souls.
After walking several hundred meters, the passage opened up.
A massive underground cavern. Ceiling lost in darkness.
Countless glowing plants grew here. At the center stood an indescribably huge weirwood.
Its roots were like pythons, covering the entire cavern floor, even piercing through stone walls, merging with the mountain itself.
"Old Gods above..."
Jon was completely stunned.
Beneath that giant tree stood several small figures.
They reached only to Lynn's waist. Skin like mottled bark. Golden-green cat-like eyes.
They weren't human.
Children of the Forest.
The lead female stepped forward.
Her hair was like tangled vines, dotted with small white flowers that never wilted.
She studied Lynn with those enormous eyes, then spoke.
Not in human language. A melody like wind chimes.
Lynn couldn't understand, but he felt no malice in the song. Only inquiry.
"Who are you?" Jon asked warily.
The female Child tilted her head, seeming to process his words.
She spoke again.
This time in the Common Tongue of Westeros. Stilted but clear.
"Leaf."
She introduced herself.
"We are the first singers of this land."
Her gaze moved past Jon, locking onto Lynn.
"We have been waiting for you. Last of the skinchangers."
Skinchanger?
Jon looked at Lynn, confused.
Lynn's heart jolted.
They knew about his ability.
"Take me to him." Lynn got straight to the point.
"He is waiting for you too."
Leaf nodded.
"For a very long time."
She turned toward the base of the giant tree.
Between the tangled roots was a natural passage.
Lynn followed. Jon and Ygritte instinctively trailed behind.
At the end of the passage, light dimmed.
They entered the weirwood's core—a hollow within the tree.
Countless thick roots wove together into a throne.
On the throne sat an old man.
Skeletal. Skin like dried parchment.
Countless thin roots grew from the throne, piercing his body, merging with his flesh.
He had only one eye. The other socket was empty.
A blood-red root grew from the socket, spreading across his cheek.
He seemed to have sat here for a thousand years, long since becoming one with the ancient weirwood.
The Greenseer. The Three-Eyed Raven. Brynden.
When he saw Lynn, he smiled.
"You've finally come."
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