Birds flew above the warm clouds of Thule as days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years.
Joyous screams tore through the streets as collapsed buildings rose again, aided by otherworldly leaders, including those of Westeros.
Yet among the joyous faces and warmth filled citizens, one person remained unhinged.
Tall green grasses choked the front of the Storm Mansion, growing five feet tall without anyone to cut them down.
Crickets and insects hopped in and out of the iron bars as if it were their private playground. Leaves scattered in the courtyard as crows claimed the walking paths as their own haven.
A sharp, tangy scent drifted from the fountain water, which had become a graveyard for rotting leaves and a breeding ground for bloodsucking mosquitoes.
Dancing shadows stretched long across the walls and untrimmed trees as the late afternoon sun threw sharp light over the compound.
