In the following days, Lynd took Nyria and the others on a tour around Sumrhall, as if they were on a sightseeing trip, showing no concern for anything related to the Wildling King.
Every night, he returned to the ruins of Sumrhall and re-entered the illusion created by the energy of the vengeful spirits.
During these visits, he discovered several unusual things. First, the dragon eggs. As soon as he entered the hall, he would go to the altar and see the dragon eggs in the bronze basin, engulfed in wildfire and burning to ash. Only one remained, but it had turned into an illusion, no longer a solid object.
Second, the dwarf and Aegon V seed to be looking at soone else. No matter how many tis he changed his position, their gazes remained fixed, as if unaware of his movents, just as they had been when he first arrived.
This led him to two possible conclusions. Either the energy of the vengeful spirits had distorted ti and space upon his arrival, aligning his presence with a specific mont on the night of the great fire at Sumrhall decades ago, making it seem as though the dwarf and Aegon V were seeing him. Or, they were not actually looking at him at all—his initial arrival had simply coincided with the position of so unknown presence, creating the illusion that their gaze was directed at him.
As he continued his exploration, he and Nyria also ca across rumors circulating in the nearby villages about the ruins of Sumrhall. So claid that those who ventured into the ruins at night were killed by the ghosts that resided there. One such victim was found burned all over, as if consud by flas.
However, what was truly strange was that, despite the severe burns on the body, only parts of the person's clothing showed signs of fire damage—most of it remained intact. This suggested that whatever had burned the victim had not been an ordinary fire.
Reflecting on this, Lynd realized that if not for the Frozen Dragon Rune’s resistance to fire, he too would have been burned when he entered the vision.
One of the victims had managed to survive until morning, only to die shortly after being discovered by his friends. In his final monts, he had kept muttering about dragon eggs.
This rumor made Lynd speculate about the origin of the dragon egg in his possession. Perhaps, after the fire, the energy of the vengeful spirits had hidden the egg within the illusion, and only soone like him—capable of resisting the flas without being hard—had been able to retrieve it.
The thought also led him to consider Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons. She was the Unburnt—perhaps this dragon egg had been ant for her. But sowhere along the way, sothing had gone wrong.
Regardless, the illusion offered him no further valuable information. It might serve to expand the historical records of the Tragedy at Sumrhall, but that had nothing to do with him.
With that, Lynd handed over all the energy of the vengeful spirits in the ruins to Glory. The creature, having long reached the limit of its patience, rushed into the ruins without hesitation, devouring the energy with a hunger that reminded Lynd of a whale feeding. The sight was both awe-inspiring and unsettling.
The sheer magnitude of the energy being consud caused such a disturbance that it even affected the real world. The noise roused many in the camp, who crawled out of their tents, turning their gaze toward the ruins. They had all heard an indescribably piercing scream. Under the night sky, the ruins of Sumrhall appeared eerier than ever, amplifying the unsettling effect of the sound.
Among those watching from the camp were Lynd and Nyria’s subordinates, as well as leaders from various wildling tribes and their people, who had been waiting for food and weapons. While Lynd’s n stood in silence, the wildlings huddled together in fear, murmuring anxiously.
Although their language was unfamiliar, their expressions made it clear they were speaking of ghosts, curses, and other such superstitions.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the unbearable screaming ceased. A collective sigh of relief passed through the gathered crowd.
But before they could fully process what had just happened, they saw Glory erging from the ruins. Its fur had turned completely white, emanating a faint glow as it walked toward Lynd, rubbing its head affectionately against his arm.
“This is Ser Lynd using the power of the Seven Gods to lift the curse from Sumrhall!”
So believers of the Seven Gods in the crowd imdiately cried out in alarm. One by one, they fell to their knees before Lynd, reciting the prayers of the Seven.
On the other side, the wildling tribes also bowed, murmuring unintelligible words with deep reverence.
Only those who had seen Glory in its white-furred form remained sowhat composed, though they, too, were inexplicably shaken. After all, in the darkness, Glory’s radiant white light gave it an undeniably sacred appearance.
Lynd took note of the commotion in the camp, but there was little he could do. He couldn’t simply command Glory to revert its fur to black and white stripes—this ti, Glory had consud too much and was temporarily unable to control its abilities.
Without offering an explanation, Lynd led Glory back to the camp. He issued a few brief orders before taking Glory straight to his tent.
For the next two days, Glory remained inside, digesting the energy of the resentful spirits, refraining from wandering about. Lynd, too, stayed in his tent, absorbing the refined energy that Glory had channeled into him.
During this ti, he discovered that all the lingering side effects from his previous Dragon Communion Ritual had vanished. Even without the Dragon Rune Necklace, he was no longer affected by the battle mories of the Banished Knight. Incidentally, the side effects from the Peacekeeper’s killing mories had also disappeared.
This ant that his first Dragon Communion Ritual had now fully concluded, and he could proceed with the next one.
After Glory appeared, the wildling leaders looked at Lynd with newfound reverence. Before, "Chosen One" had been just a title—but now, they truly believed it.
Once Grassy Vale delivered the first batch of food and weapons, Lynd distributed them among the wildling tribes, repeatedly emphasizing the need to follow his plan. He then instructed Lothor to select a few trustworthy individuals from his people to act as liaisons with the wildlings, ensuring the smooth handover of future supplies.
With everything settled, Lynd and Nyria resud their journey. Their destination: Blackhaven Castle, seat of House Dondarrion, where they would et Beric Dondarrion—the future legendary Lightning Lord.
From what Lynd had gathered, Beric Dondarrion was now the Lord of Blackhaven. His father had succumbed to illness during the extre cold disaster, forcing the young Beric to take up his lordship while still in his teens—a situation not unlike that of Lord Elwood of Grassy Vale.
The extre cold disaster had caused significant upheaval among the nobility, with many lordships changing hands. Another who had suffered a similar fate was Bryce Caron, Lord of Nightsong. However, his circumstances were far more tragic—his entire family had perished in the outbreak, leaving him the sole survivor.
According to Brienne, her father had once sought an engagent between her and Bryce Caron, hoping to secure a match with the forr Lord of Nightsong. How those negotiations had played out was uncertain, but after Bryce Caron inherited Nightsong, the matter had been left unresolved.
Lynd’s army traveled along the famous Boneway, an ancient road that had existed since the ti of the First n. Later, when Dorne controlled the Marches, the route had been repaired to accommodate carriages.
However, as conflicts between Dorne, the Stormlands, and The Reach intensified over control of the Marches, the Boneway beca a key military route. The Dornish fortified the high mountains flanking the road with nurous castles and watchtowers, maintaining tight control over the passage.
But with the rise of the Targaryens and their dragons, the Boneway’s strategic value diminished. Additionally, Daeron I Targaryen had discovered during his conquest of Dorne that a hidden path allowed armies to bypass the fortifications along the Boneway, further reducing its importance. In later years, the Stormlands even managed to seize control of the Boneway north of Wyl.
With Dorne's submission to the Targaryen dynasty, the Boneway's military significance diminished considerably, reducing it to a re trade route. However, the presence of mountain bandits and wildling tribes entrenched there year-round made this path far more perilous than The Prince’s Pass. As a result, few rchant caravans dared to take either route, leading both to fall into disuse over ti.
By the ti Lynd’s group entered the Boneway, the road had likely remained untouched for several years. Weeds sprouted thickly from the cracks between the stones, so reaching knee height, so dense that the stone path beneath was barely visible.
It took Lynd and his companions about four days to traverse the distance from Sumrhall to Blackhaven. When they were roughly two leagues from their destination, they caught sight of Blackhaven Castle standing atop a steep ridge beside the Boneway. Its black basalt walls lood strong and solemn, while below them, a deep, dry mountain stream carved out a natural defense.
A massive city wall blocked the Boneway in front of the castle, leaving only a towering gate, over ten ters high, for passage. The wall extended along the hillside until it rged with Blackhaven’s fortifications. Houses clustered along the slopes on either side of this barrier, forming a small town.
As he had done in Grassy Vale, Lynd had inford Blackhaven of his visit in advance. Blackhaven, having tracked his progress from its watchtower, had sent a delegation to receive him. Before Lynd arrived, a steward was already waiting on the Boneway below the castle.
“Lord Lynd and Lady Nyria, welco. Our lord has prepared a banquet in the castle to honor your arrival.” The steward of Blackhaven regarded them with a composed deanor, though his gaze lingered briefly on Glory with visible concern before he steadied himself. “Welco, my lords.”
Unlike Lord Elwood of Grassy Vale, Beric Dondarrion had not co to personally greet them, but Lynd paid it no mind. Dismounting alongside the others, he followed the steward up toward the castle.
There was no direct path from the Boneway to Blackhaven. A narrow road ran along the castle walls, leading toward the outer defenses. Beneath the fortifications lay the stables, where Lothor left n behind to tend to the horses. The rest of the party continued with Lynd, climbing the path that led to Blackhaven’s gates.
Blackhaven had been built purely for warfare, its location chosen with strategy in mind. Once properly defended, no army could force its way through the Boneway.
However, this strategic advantage ca with a drawback—Blackhaven was barren. The land was unsuitable for crops, with only fruit trees managing to take root. For generations, the stronghold had sustained itself through the production and export of fruit wine.
Yet, rumors persisted that Blackhaven used its pri location for smuggling, securing vast profits to maintain a standing force of up to a thousand n.
For a long ti, Blackhaven had depended entirely on external sources for food, making it vulnerable to economic pressure. This changed when a fertile valley was discovered in the mountains east of the Boneway. That land quickly beca Blackhaven’s most vital resource—except that it did not belong to them.
Initially, House Tyrell had little interest in the remote territory of the Red Mountains. It had remained undeveloped for years, and Blackhaven had only begun to cultivate a portion of it cautiously. But when House Tyrell failed to respond, they grew bolder, eventually occupying the entire valley.
They were not alone in this practice. House Swann of Stonehelm and House Morrigen of Crow's Nest had also claid sections of Tyrell land. Yet, House Tyrell showed no sign of concern—no reprimands, no envoys, not even a word of discontent.
For a ti, Blackhaven believed the matter had been settled, that things would continue as they always had. But then the Tyrells did sothing no one had anticipated: they granted the land to the new Lord of Sumrhall. The news spread swiftly through the Stormlands, catching Blackhaven completely off guard.
Had it been any other noble house, Blackhaven might have maneuvered its way out of the situation—perhaps using its military strength and strategic position to coerce the claimant into yielding, or allowing the land to remain nominally under another’s na while still controlling it in practice.
But this was not just any noble.
The new Lord of Sumrhall was the most legendary figure in the Seven Kingdoms. His reputation had already eclipsed that of storied warriors like Arthur Dayne, Barristan the Bold, and Duncan the Tall, placing him among the greatest heroes of the Age of the First n.
No one would call such praise an exaggeration. Lord Lynd Tarran of Sumrhall was a legend made flesh. His status as one of the Seven Gods’ Chosen was already awe-inspiring enough, but beyond that, his power in combat was nothing short of divine.
His feats at the victory celebration in Lannisport had left an indelible mark. The sight of him wielding wind and lightning had shaken the Ironborn to their core, convincing them that he was the very incarnation of the legendary Storm God.
In fact, in several coastal ports and fishing villages frequently raided by the Ironborn, shrines to the Storm God had begun to appear. Though the statues within varied in form, they all bore the sa striking features—a god adorned with four swords, accompanied by a giant Shadowcat.
In the religion of the Ironborn, the Storm God was the eternal nesis of the Drowned God. These villagers, seeking protection from Ironborn raiders, had turned to worship Lynd as their Storm God incarnate.
Against such a mythic figure, Blackhaven had no room to resist. All they could do now was wait, powerless, for Lynd’s decision.
Reviews
All reviews (0)