"You're the future Lord of Casterly Rock, heir to the Warden of the West—and yet here you are, sneaking into the holy sisters' quarters. What exactly were you trying to do?" Lynd looked at Jai, who had just been escorted in by the Red Sisters, and let out a quiet chuckle. Then he turned to the sister beside him and said, "Sister Linda, you can return now. Leave him to ."
Lynd had already guessed Jai would co back after Podrick left. What he hadn't expected was that Jai would try to sneak into the residence to take Cersei away.
What Jai didn't know was that he'd been spotted the mont he approached the estate. The Silent n had been watching. As soon as he slipped into the courtyard where the Red Sisters lived, he was imdiately knocked down by one of them and dragged in front of Lynd.
At this point, the Red Sisters under Lynd's command had evolved into a fourth generation, each trained through increasingly intense trial thods. Their combat abilities were more than double what they had once been, their bodies gradually becoming sothing beyond human. A full fourteen-person squad—seven Red Sisters and seven Silent n—could easily stand against an army of thousands.
Jai had not only lost his sword hand, but even in his pri, he wouldn't have stood a chance against a fully trained Red Sister.
"Do I really need to say what I ca here for?" Jai stood up from the ground, his face full of frustration and sha. He picked up the prosthetic hand the Red Sister had tossed aside and reattached it. "Lynd Tarran, I thought we were friends. I didn't expect... this."
"You never treated like a friend, Jai," Lynd said calmly. "Because if you had, you wouldn't have put in this position."
"I'm the one making things difficult for you?" Jai asked, clearly annoyed.
"Think about it," Lynd said patiently. "Why did I take Cersei? Think it through. I'm simply fulfilling my duty as a witness—making sure that everyone honors the oath they made. I'm not the one who brought this on. It was Lord Garlan and Lord Tywin. And why did Garlan target Queen Cersei? Because she humiliated House Tyrell. Badly.
"Lord Tywin once brought the Rain of Castare down on those who humiliated his house. House Tyrell, on the other hand, didn't take advantage of Lannister weakness. They didn't join the other houses in attacking. All they did was ask for the instigator—Cersei—to be held accountable. They even offered to aid House Lannister through a renewed alliance. Shouldn't you be grateful for their restraint?"
"I..." Jai wanted to argue, but found himself at a loss. His mind was clouded. There was no denying it—Cersei had brought this on herself. She had no one to bla but herself.
"Instead of worrying about your sister, maybe you should start worrying about your brother," Lynd added, his voice low. "At least here, Cersei doesn't have to fear for her life. But Tyrion? He's in real danger."
Jai's face darkened. "What are you talking about? Father just put Tyrion under house arrest. After the wedding, he's coming back to Casterly Rock with ."
Lynd shook his head with a faint smile. "You really think charges of treason can be brushed aside that easily? From what I've heard, Tyrion made a lot of enemies among the nobles of King's Landing during the war. Even His Grace Joffrey was slapped and scolded by him in front of others—more than once. Do you think Joffrey is the forgiving type?"
Jai went pale.
No one knew Joffrey better than his father, and he was painfully aware of the boy's nature. If even Cersei, his own mother, wasn't safe from Joffrey's wrath, what chance did Tyrion have? Jai recalled the mont in the Tower of the Hand when Joffrey had so smoothly driven a knife into Cersei's back with a single sentence.
And now, thinking back to the new charges Joffrey had added to Tyrion's case, he could feel it—Lynd was right. Joffrey had no intention of letting Tyrion go. He would find a way to take his life.
"Father won't let him," Jai said through clenched teeth.
"Are you sure Lord Tywin still has control over everything?" Lynd asked quietly.
The question made Jai recall the events in the Tower of the Hand. He turned to Lynd, eyes wide with sudden realization.
Lynd shook his head. "I don't interfere in the kingdom's politics. Don't look to . Even without , Lord Tywin is no longer the strongest force in King's Landing."
"You an House Tyrell will move against Tyrion?" Jai asked, alard.
"No," Lynd replied. "As far as I know, House Tyrell has no grudge against Tyrion. They won't harm him. But they're close to Joffrey now. If Joffrey insists on putting Tyrion on trial for treason, I doubt they'll stand in his way. And don't forget—the Red Viper is still here. He despises your family. Watching House Lannister turn on itself would be a delight for him. What do you think he'll do?"
By this point, Jai's face had drained of all color.
Right now, saving Cersei could wait. Rescuing his brother was suddenly far more urgent.
So Jai imdiately turned to leave—but Lynd stopped him.
"It was wrong of to break into your residence without permission. I apologize. And as for Cersei... I won't bother you about her again," Jai said, frowning slightly as he lowered his head.
Lynd cut him off. "You misunderstand. I didn't stop you to hear an apology. There's sothing else I wanted to talk to you about."
"What is it?" Jai asked, puzzled.
Lynd pointed at Jai's severed wrist. "Do you want your hand back?"
Jai froze. Then, forgetting any sense of decorum, he grabbed Lynd's arm and asked with urgency, "You're not joking, are you? Because if you are—this isn't funny."
His reaction wasn't surprising. That hand had represented his honor, pride, and identity. Losing it had ant losing everything. That was why he hadn't put up a fight when Lord Tywin ordered him to step down from the Kingsguard.
He hadn't given up the white cloak to chase after the title and lands of Casterly Rock. He'd done it because he knew, with his right hand gone, he no longer deserved to wear it. He couldn't protect the king anymore—hell, he couldn't even beat a common foot soldier. Keeping that cloak would've only made him feel like a walking disgrace.
"You've heard of the Black Cave, haven't you?" Lynd asked calmly.
"Of course," Jai nodded. "Your Black Cave has beco legendary. Any scrap of information about it sells for dozens, even hundreds of gold dragons."
Lynd's tone turned serious. "The Black Cave has been researching thods of regenerating severed limbs. Recently, we've made so breakthroughs and conducted live experints. The problem is, the subjects so far have lacked the willpower to endure the transplant. Every one of them failed. None could survive the grafting process. But... would you be interested?"
"Yes. I'm interested," Jai blurted before Lynd could even finish, afraid any hesitation might cost him the opportunity.
"Slow down. Let finish," Lynd said, motioning for him to stay calm. "I can arrange a transplant, but you'll need to provide the original tissue."
"The what?"
"The source limb," Lynd clarified. "Your severed hand. I assu you still have it?"
"I do." A glimr of hope lit up Jai's face as he nodded.
Back during the Battle of Riverrun, his hand had been hacked off—though a sliver of skin and tendon still held it on. Roose Bolton had completed the job, cutting it clean and turning it into a specin using Bolton family techniques. When Jai was released from Harrenhal, the hand was returned to him as a parting gift. He'd considered tossing it... but in the end, he couldn't. And now, he was glad he hadn't.
After a mont, curiosity got the better of him. "And if I hadn't kept the hand? Would the transplant be impossible?"
"Not impossible," Lynd replied. "But the results would be far more uncertain. Without your original limb, the new one might not grow back the way it should. It might not even be a proper hand. And there's a chance your body could undergo... unintended mutations."
As he spoke, disturbing images of failed experints in the Black Cave flashed through Lynd's mind. Those unfortunate test subjects were now living a fate worse than death.
Jai didn't fully grasp the implications, but he could feel it—replacing the hand with sothing that wasn't his own ca with enormous risk.
Lynd told him to arrange a ti to bring the severed hand to him. He would take it back to Sumrhall and prepare it as a viable graft. Once ready, Jai could co for the procedure whenever he wished.
Hearing that, Jai didn't linger. He quickly took his leave from Lynd's residence, heart pounding with renewed hope.
...
Not long after Jai departed, two unexpected visitors arrived at Lynd's door.
"Your Highness, please help us," Beric Dondarrion said, bowing his head as soon as he saw Lynd.
Lynd glanced at Beric, then looked over at the red-robed priest Thoros, and said, "I've always admired what the Brotherhood Without Banners has stood for. If what you're hoping for is for to lift the bounty Lord Tywin placed on your heads, I think I could arrange that."
Beric shook his head quickly. "No, my lord, you misunderstand! We're not here to ask for the bounty to be lifted. What we need is supplies—food, dicine, weapons—anything you can spare."
Lynd frowned. "Just recently, the lords and representatives of the Seven Kingdoms—everyone except the Vale—signed a peace agreent. The war is over. Are you still planning to roam the Riverlands, ambushing nobles?"
Beric and Thoros froze. They looked at each other in stunned silence, unsure how to respond.
The Brotherhood had always operated like rangers or vigilantes, striking at corrupt and predatory lords, stealing from the wicked to aid the innocent. They robbed the greedy and used the spoils to feed and protect the people caught in the chaos of war. They had assud that this life would continue for a long while yet—but the war had ended abruptly, without warning, leaving them unprepared and adrift. Suddenly, their purpose was gone, and with it, their direction.
"How many tis have you been resurrected?" Lynd asked, looking at Beric. He could sense the deep magical resonance emanating from him.
Beric paused, brow furrowed, trying to rember.
"Seven," Thoros answered before he could. His voice was quiet, but certain.
"How much have you forgotten?" Lynd asked again.
Beric didn't respond. He didn't seem to know how.
Lynd continued, "Do you rember your wife and children? I've brought them back to Blackhaven. They miss you. You should go see them."
"My wife... my children?" Beric's face filled with confusion. He knew, vaguely, that he had a wife and children once—that he had lived a happy life. But he couldn't recall what they looked like. He couldn't even rember the ti they had spent together.
"How many happy mories do you still have left?" Lynd pressed gently.
Beric's eyes remained vacant. He didn't answer.
"Humanity," Lynd said. "Each ti you returned, it cost you part of your humanity. When all the mories tied to joy and love are gone, your humanity goes with them. At that point, you're no different from a corpse that walks."
Lynd's eyes narrowed slightly. "No—that's not quite right. You'd beco sothing worse. A vessel. A vessel the Lord of Light can use."
Though Beric's situation differed from Willas and Patchface, there was one undeniable similarity between them—they were all vessels for ancient beings.
But the way they beca vessels had varied. Willas possessed the blood of Garth Greenhand, making him a perfect vessel—through him, Garth could reclaim fragnts of his divine power.
Patchface had been a mistake. The transformation failed, leaving him ntally shattered—but still containing lingering fragnts of an ancient power. That leftover force gave him prophetic visions.
Beric, on the other hand, had beco a vessel through sacrifice—a single death, transford by the Lord of Light's power into sothing not entirely mortal.
In truth, one could argue that Beric Dondarrion resembled the legendary Azor Ahai more than Stannis ever had—because Azor Ahai, too, was likely just a vessel of the Lord of Light.
"A vessel of the Lord of Light?" Thoros stared at Beric, stunned, but a flicker of understanding passed across his face.
He had revived Beric ti and ti again through prayer. Sowhere deep inside, he'd always believed there must be a reason—that it wasn't random. A sign. A divine ssage. He just never understood what the ssage was—until now.
Beric fell silent, lost in thought. After a long pause, he looked up at Lynd and asked, "Why would the Lord of Light turn into a vessel?"
Lynd thought for a mont, then said, "To prepare—for the final battle against the Cold God beyond the Wall."
He looked from Beric to Thoros.
"The war is over. There's no need for you to stay in the Riverlands. Go to the Wall. That's where you're needed now."
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