Scene I – The Bloodraven’s Return

  The chamber was dim, lit only by candles of black flame. Brynden Rivers opened his eyes, gasping as air filled the lungs of a long-dead man—Aegor Rivers. The body ached, stiff from undeath, but it obeyed him now.

  Shiera Seastar leaned over him, her crimson-painted lips curled into a smirk, her eyes glowing faintly in the gloom.

  “You live again, old fool,” she said, tracing a clawed finger along his pale cheek.

  Brynden growled. “The Children... they betrayed me. Used me. Lied about the prophecy. Lied about the Long Night. I should have known—should have never trusted them.”

  Shiera laughed softly, dark and cruel. “And yet you did. That’s why I left Westeros. I saw their rot before you ever bound yourself to them. So eager to be the spider in the cave... but you were just another fly caught in their web.”

  He lowered his head, bitter. “I wanted to save the realm... control the prince that was promised, guide the dream... but it was all illusion.”

  “It was always going to fail,” Shiera said, lifting his chin. “Bran Stark was never yours to control. And Jon snow was never yours to deceive.”

  Brynden’s gaze narrowed. “But we can still destroy them all.”

  At that, Shiera kissed him—slow and lingering, her body pressed against his. In the flickering dark of Asshai, love and vengeance intertwined.

  When they pulled apart, Shiera whispered: “Daenerys Targaryen. Her blood sings with fire and shadow... she could still serve our revenge.”

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  Brynden smiled, wicked and weary. “Yes. The coming dragon queen. Let’s see if we can teach her to hate.”

  Scene II – The Swordless Warden

  The roots tore apart with a scream of bark and old blood. From the weirwood near the Harrenhal, a man emerged—eyes glowing faintly, his breath ragged.

  He was naked, scarred, and seething. He dropped to his knees, hands digging through the snow for something that wasn't there.

  Dark Sister... gone. His dragon dead.

  His mind raced. He felt it—the Wall was no longer whole. The wards were broken.

  “No...” he muttered, staggering to his feet. “The Prince that was promised is unprotected. The Long Night is coming. This wasn't the plan.”

  He looked north, toward the fading trace of the Winter Moon.

  “I must find him. I must find the Prince... before it’s too late. Nettles is waiting for me.”

  Scene III – The Ship of Silence

  Far out at sea, where light dared not reach, a grotesque vessel drifted.

  The Silence groaned with each wave, its sails made of stretched skin, its hull formed from ribcage and bone, thrumming with cursed life.

  At its helm stood a captain with lips sewn shut, his single eye bright as a storm.

  He watched as the Winter Moon, far on the horizon, reversed course—drawn back toward the Lands of Always Winter.

  He sighed through his nose, voice muted but thoughts blazing.

  “So the strongest lives... .”

  He turned to the helm. “Then I must prepare a second seal.”

  The Silence changed course, gliding like a predator toward the east.

  Scene IV – The Mountain Holds Its Breath

  Beneath the Fourteen Flames, deep within the veins of fire and stone, a man sat.

  He had four arms, all wreathed in flame, and four eyes—each a different color, each seeing a different future.

  He held the molten heart of the mountain in place with all four of his hand

  The Winter Moon flickered in the distance, as the man saw through the earth

  He grinned.

  “At last... the strongest has returned.”

  Scene V – The Cry in the Shadow

  In the deepest pit of the Shadow Lands, past the ghost grass and ashen sands, something stirred.

  A voice—not human, not quite spirit—echoed through the canyons, reverberating through the bones of the world.

  “Gojo...”

  It was a cry. A lament. A challenge.

  The shadow itself recoiled from the sound.

  Something ancient, something forgotten, had awakened.