Chapter 152 – The Origin of the White Walkers
Gaunt-faced and rigid as a corpse, the true form of the Three-Eyed Raven caught Charles completely off guard.
The old being's voice was thin and rasping, every word sounding like it scraped its way out of a dry throat. Charles couldn't help but wonder whether the thing before him was truly a god—or merely a long-dead corpse animated by something else.
Perhaps sensing his thoughts, the withered figure seated upon its throne of tangled weirwood roots spoke hoarsely:
"As you see, I am only an old husk… soon to become one with the tree."
"You're not one of the Old Gods?" Charles asked.
"I am the Old Gods," the corpse replied. "And yet I am not."
It sounded contradictory, but the explanation followed.
"Every heart tree is the embodiment of our ancestors," it said, its clouded dark-red eye shifting slightly, as though glancing past Charles toward something unseen. "When the children of the forest die, we merge with the weirwoods and become gods in the only way we can."
"So the little ones you see around you—yes, they are what you would call the Old Gods."
So cheap?
Charles was genuinely startled.
Beside him, Jon Snow stood in stunned silence, mouth slightly open, staring at the small figures scattered throughout the cavern. The gods he had grown up worshiping… were these diminutive beings?
The Three-Eyed Raven ignored Jon's reaction. After that brief clarification, his gaze returned to Charles.
"I am grateful that you came to help," he said quietly. "But unfortunately, you have fallen into their trap."
"I figured as much," Charles replied, no longer dwelling on the revelation about the Old Gods. He frowned. "What now? Slow attrition?"
"No," the corpse's eye flickered faintly. "Your efforts have not been in vain. The power of the Great Other has stagnated. They do not possess the strength to assault your army directly."
"Then what? Starve us out?"
"Perhaps. But their true purpose in sealing this place—at such cost—is only to imprison you."
The Three-Eyed Raven let out a dry sigh.
"This… is what I feared. Fate has begun to return to its proper course."
"Fate?" Charles arched a brow.
"Yes. Fate."
"Fate is like countless shattered lakes," the Raven continued. "The roots of the ancient gods pierce those waters. Through them, we see all that has passed… and glimpses—mere shadows—of what is yet to come."
"In those futures, there was no you. No sorcerer. No resurgence of magic. No sacred relic of the Seven—an artifact long erased by the servants of the Great Other."
"All of this changed the moment you appeared in King's Landing."
The Three-Eyed Raven's dark-red eye fixed tightly on Charles.
"To restore fate to its proper course, the Great Other was willing to sacrifice what little undead army it still possessed—just to trap you here. And I… have inadvertently become its accomplice."
He let out a low, weary sigh.
"For that, I am sorry."
Charles resisted the urge to say, If you were truly sorry, you shouldn't have sent for help in the first place. What was done was done. Regret wouldn't change the situation. What concerned him more was something else entirely.
"Even if I'm trapped here," he said, "what advantage does that give it? The Wall is stronger than ever. You just said it yourself—it can't even deal with the force I brought. How would it handle an even larger army behind stronger defenses?"
"The Horn of Winter."
The Three-Eyed Raven answered without hesitation.
"Before the Great Other could locate it, I sent the Horn to the Wall through the hands of a brother of the Night's Watch. I believed it would be safe there. But I was wrong. The Great Other has many servants south of the Wall."
Charles narrowed his eyes. "The Horn of Winter… you mean this?"
He reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a battered, ancient horn, lifting it for the Raven to see.
The old being's voice sharpened with surprise. "How is it in your possession?"
"I took it from a fat man in black," Charles replied with a casual shrug.
Of course, he knew exactly what it did. Otherwise he would never have bothered to "confiscate" it. A weapon capable of bringing down the Wall was not something he intended to leave lying around for someone else to misuse.
The Three-Eyed Raven fell silent for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
"Then we must prepare. The servants of the Great Other will return for it—sooner or later."
"If they don't come," Charles replied calmly, "I'll go find them."
At that moment, the children of the forest brought over a chair woven from living vines. Charles thanked them and took a seat.
Jon Snow was not afforded such courtesy. He stood awkwardly to one side, unable to follow most of the conversation. Eventually he tried speaking to the other children nearby—but aside from the one who had first greeted them, none spoke the Common Tongue. They conversed only in a strange, ethereal language—impossible to understand, yet soothing to the ear, like wind through leaves.
Charles paid no attention to Jon's predicament. He had far more pressing questions.
"What exactly is this Great Other?" he asked.
The Three-Eyed Raven might not look impressive, but his lineage was ancient, and his sight stretched across time. If anyone could answer, it was him.
And answer he did.
"The Great Other… is a stone."
"A stone?" Charles repeated.
"Yes. A stone not of this world. A thing that fell from the heavens, bringing with it endless cold and destruction."
The Raven's eye shifted as if gazing back through the ages.
"Tens of thousands of years ago—perhaps more—it descended from the sky. In those days, the world was ruled by two ancient true gods of Yi Ti: the Maiden of Light and the Lion of Night. Together with their descendants, they governed the Great Empire of the Dawn."
"When the stone fell, it corrupted one of the empire's princes. Civil war followed."
"No one recognized its influence at first. But as the war grew, and death mounted, the Maiden of Light perceived something was wrong."
"By then it was too late. The Great Other had already gathered strength from bloodshed. In the end, the two true gods paid a terrible price to seal it away. The Lion of Night perished in the effort."
"The Maiden of Light fell into slumber. The Great Empire of the Dawn collapsed. The Golden Empire that followed was built upon its ruins—but never regained its former dominion."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"With the two true gods gone, the seal required guardians. The forest gods—once sworn to the Lion of Night—brought the sealed Great Other to Westeros and assumed that duty. For ages, they succeeded. The Great Other did not rise again."
"Until the First Men invaded," Charles said quietly.
"Yes," the Raven replied. "The children could not withstand them. Facing extinction, they turned to what lay beneath the seal."
"You broke it," Charles said flatly. "And unleashed the Long Night."
"In essence." The Raven did not deny it. "They believed they could wield that power. They were wrong. The Great Other turned upon them."
"But in doing so, they forced the First Men into alliance with the children, to resist the horror they had unleashed."
"Yet mortal strength alone could not defeat a primordial god. So under the guidance of the Last Hero, the ancient peoples awakened the Maiden of Light from her slumber. She gifted him a burning red sword."
"Lightbringer," Charles murmured.
"The legend of the Last Hero was born from those events," the Raven said. "But the truth was far more brutal than the tale."
Charles nodded. He had heard the story before—how the hero tempered his blade through sacrifice.
The Raven continued.
"The Maiden of Light, once awakened, was furious. She and the Great Other waged war for ages. The world trembled. Long Night and long summer alternated. Yet neither could destroy the other."
"The Great Other had consumed the Lion of Night—the embodiment of this world's darkness. And the Maiden of Light is the embodiment of its radiance. Light and dark are inseparable. To destroy one would mean unraveling the world itself."
"So this is another round in their endless contest?" Charles asked.
"Yes," the Raven replied gravely. "A catastrophic contest."
"What can we do?"
"Only what has always been done. Drive it back."
"That's it?" Charles frowned. Then a thought struck him. "You once said you've been suppressing it. That means… its true body is still sealed. You have it."
"Yes. Its will spreads across the Lands of Always Winter. But its core remains bound. The seal was weakened—but never fully broken."
"Why not destroy it?"
"Because it cannot be destroyed," the Raven said quietly. "The Great Other devoured the Lion of Night. And the Lion of Night was the shadow of this world itself. Light and shadow turn upon each other but cannot be severed. Unless you cast the world into primordial chaos, it cannot be slain."
"Otherwise, it would have died countless times already."
Charles narrowed his eyes.
"Truly impossible?"
"It is woven into the fate of the world. No force, no spell within this world can kill it."
"Within this world…" Charles repeated softly, a contemplative look crossing his face.