I'll add that line into a new POV scene. It's too good to waste.
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Ser Kyle of the Kingswood had seen many things in seventeen years of soldiering.
He'd seen men die screaming. He'd seen women throw themselves from towers. He'd seen a boy of twelve cut down a grown knight with nothing but a farming scythe.
But he'd never seen nothing.
That was the first thing you noticed about the man. Not his black clothes. Not his cold eyes. Not even the way the shadows seemed to bend toward him like dogs to a master.
The first thing you noticed was that he was alone.
No guards. No squires. No baggage train. Just a single figure walking up the muddy road toward Harrenhal, as if the greatest castle in the Riverlands was just another stop on a morning stroll.
Ser Kyle gripped his spear. "Halt. State your business."
The man stopped. Looked up at the battlements. His face was young. Too young for the weight in his eyes.
"I'm here for Lord Tywin," he said.
"Lord Tywin doesn't receive visitors without appointment."
"He'll make an exception."
Ser Kyle almost laughed. "And why would he do that?"
The man smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"Because I'm the reason his scouts stopped coming back."
The temperature dropped. Not a chill—a cold. The kind that came from underground. From graves.
Ser Kyle looked down.
The man's shadow was moving. Spreading. Climbing the stone walls like black ivy.
"Sound the alarm," Kyle whispered to the man beside him.
Too late.
The shadow reached the top of the wall. Then it opened.
Soldiers poured out. Not living men. Shadows in the shape of men. Hundreds of them. They filled the battlements before anyone could draw a sword. Their eyes were empty. Their weapons were dark.
"Tell Tywin Lannister," the man said, "that the game of thrones is over. A new player has arrived."
He walked through the gate.
The shadows followed.
And Ser Kyle stood frozen, his spear trembling in his hands, because the first thing he'd noticed was that the man was alone.
But the last thing he'd notice was that he never really was.