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The title "Lord of Krakens" had spread like the sea wind across the Seven Kingdoms and even to the distant Free Cities. Since his ability to control Sea Kings was now an open secret, Euron no longer bothered to hide it.
And so, among the scattered islands of the Iron Islands—Iron Wind, Iron Smoke, Iron Scent, Iron Horse—people grew accustomed to a certain sight: the Greyjoy no longer relied on longships to travel.
When he needed to move, he simply strolled to the shore, issuing a low call or sending a silent thought into the deep. Moments later, a massive shadow would rise from the nearby sea, and a giant whale would break the surface, docilely waiting by the reefs. Its broad, hill-like back became Euron's exclusive vessel.
It was faster than the swiftest longship and far more convenient. Euron stood atop the whale, cleaving through the waves, the sea breeze in his face, with a loyal and powerful creature clearing the path beneath him.
Huh? Is it... watching me!?
Euron keenly sensed something unusual today. As he rode the giant whale between islands, a small silver-grey seal followed closely, never straying far. Its movements were exceptionally agile, and its round eyes seemed to hold a human-like intelligence, even a hint of scrutiny.
That was definitely not the look of an ordinary sea beast.
Euron's mind shifted, and he attempted to project a thread of thought toward the small creature. But his perception hit an invisible wall—the seal's mind had long since been occupied and controlled by another, earlier, more secretive force, like a puppet on strings.
"Interesting." Euron frowned slightly, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. He stopped probing and instead quietly mobilized the boundless power of the ancient Grey King within him. Like a silent tsunami, he crushed toward that invisible mental connection.
The result was immediate.
The happily swimming seal suddenly went rigid, as if struck by an invisible hammer. Its small body shuddered violently, then flipped belly-up, floating dizzily on the surface, unconscious.
About a quarter of an hour later, it groggily woke up. The little creature blinked its black, shiny eyes blankly, shook its head, and let out a few confused whimpers. The eerie intelligence in its eyes was gone, replaced by the pure, bewildered look of a wild animal. It seemed completely confused about why it was there. With a panicked glance at Euron, it quickly dived into the deep water and vanished.
---
Pyke arrived soon after.
When Euron strode into the reception hall of Pyke, he immediately spotted the visitors who looked utterly out of place.
The leader was tall and gaunt, like a mast eroded by years of sea wind. His face was haggard, skin tight against his cheekbones, giving him sharply defined angles. A prominent, jutting chin added an air of stubbornness and severity. His cheeks were unusually smooth, clean-shaven without the bushy beards common among most Ironborn.
This was Gylbert Farwynd, Lord of the Lonely Light and head of House Farwynd.
Standing behind Gylbert were three young women—Rachael, Nicole, and Zoey. They not only inherited their father's lean and resilient aura but also possessed an astonishing synchronization. Their height, appearance, and even the subtle expressions in their eyes were identical, as if carved from the same mold.
The three sisters stood side by side like three silhouettes sharing a single soul. Their resemblance went beyond ordinary twins; it was mirror-like, silently declaring the fact that they were triplets. They stood there silently, like three winter-hardy plants growing together in a crack on a cliff, relying on each other to withstand the wind and frost, indistinguishable as one entity.
The attire of these four Farwynds was vastly different from the ringmail and roughspun common on the Iron Islands. They wore robes meticulously sewn from thick sea lion and walrus skins. The material was primitive and heavy, carrying the scent of the bitter cold from the far west.
On their robes, the sigil of House Farwynd was clearly displayed: the lower half was black sea waves topped with a crown pattern, symbolizing the perilous sea they ruled, crowned by supreme power; the upper half featured a black longship sailing into a dark red sun on an orange field. This peculiar emblem seemed to whisper ancient secrets about the family's connection to the end of the sunset and voyages through eternal twilight.
After Lysa introduced them, Euron exchanged greetings with each member of the Farwynd family. He wore his habitual smile, but his gaze was like a precise probe, slowly sweeping over Gylbert and his three identical daughters.
He skipped the pleasantries and cut straight to the point, his voice steady but carrying an unavoidable question. "That little seal trailing me just now—were you controlling it?" He paused, then accurately threw out the ancient term. "Are you... skinchangers?"
There was no panic on Gylbert Farwynd's haggard face at being exposed. He bowed slightly, performing an impeccable but somewhat distant courtesy. "We have offended my Lord. The discourtesy was ours." He didn't deny it, which was as good as an admission.
Euron raised his hand and rubbed the space between his nose and upper lip with his knuckles, a subtle gesture revealing a hint of understanding and apology.
"No, I was the rude one," he corrected, looking at the three silent daughters. "The mental shock I unleashed earlier was a bit too direct. You... are hurt, aren't you?" As he spoke, he naturally picked up three clean soft cloths from nearby and handed them over.
Almost at the same instant, Rachael, Nicole, and Zoey seemed pulled by the same invisible string. They raised their hands in perfect unison, lightly touching their fingers under their noses. Sure enough, faint traces of bright red blood stained their skin. They reached out simultaneously to take the cloths Euron offered, wiping their faces at the exact same angle and frequency. Every detail was perfectly synchronized, as if the word "uniformity" was forever engraved in their code of conduct.
A knowing smile touched Euron's lips. His gaze rested on Gylbert like a calm sea. "You traveled thousands of miles from Lonely Light specifically to see me. I assume you've heard... of my slight ability to communicate with deep-sea beasts."
"Precisely." Gylbert's answer was short and affirmative, clear as the beam from the Lonely Light itself.
Euron nodded slightly, showing he was listening. He spoke slowly. "Then, what can I do for you?"
In Gylbert's gaunt face, his deep-set eyes flickered with complex light. "I imagine my Lord knows... something of our Lonely Light."
"I've heard some things," Euron replied cautiously, leaving room to maneuver. His fingertips tapped lightly on the armrest. "But mostly legends circulating among sailors. Ethereal things, hard to distinguish truth from fiction."
Gylbert acknowledged this with a slight nod, his tone carrying the distinct detachment of a recluse. "Yes. House Farwynd has guarded that western sea for generations. We indeed rarely appear before others, and very few truly understand us."
At the Lonely Light at the end of the world, grotesque rumors clung to the fortress and House Farwynd like eternal sea fog.
In taverns and on docks, sailors whispered that the Farwynds and the small folk under their rule possessed inhuman habits—they copulated with seals to birth half-human, half-beast offspring with smooth skin and sorrowful eyes. Even more horrific rumors claimed the people living there were shapeshifting monsters who could shed their human forms to become giant sea lions, ferocious walruses, or even the terrifying spotted beasts of western legend—the "Wolves of the Western Sea," spotted whales.
Lonely Light itself was the final period engraved on the known world.
For centuries, ambitious explorers and sailors, lured by legends of a mysterious western paradise, had sailed their ships toward the endless realm beyond the sunset. Those lucky enough to return brought back only despair: west of Lonely Light lay only eternal grey water, dead, empty, extending infinitely toward the edge of cognition, as if the whole world ended there. And more people, along with their ships and dreams, vanished forever into that pale ocean where even seabirds were extinct, never to be heard from again.