CHAPTER 108
After the banquet, Winterfell gradually quieted down.
Garon sent the officers away to rest while he remained behind to spend some time with Sansa.
Maester Luwin smiled knowingly at the two of them and quietly departed alongside Clay Cerwyn and his sister.
Soon, only Garon and Sansa remained within the Great Hall.
"Garon, would you walk with me in the godswood?"
Sansa looked at him with hopeful eyes.
Garon instantly remembered their last kiss and chuckled.
"Gladly."
The two left the hall hand in hand and made their way toward the godswood.
Looking up, Garon saw the red comet blazing across the heavens. He knew it would remain visible for many months to come.
When they arrived beside the black pool beneath Winterfell's heart tree, the pale trunk seemed even more mysterious beneath the combined glow of moonlight and the crimson comet.
The carved face appeared alive.
Pale sap slowly trickled from its eyes like tears of blood.
Within this sacred and tranquil place, the chaos of war and the shadow of death seemed temporarily shut beyond the walls.
Sansa gently pulled Garon down beside her.
The two knelt before the heart tree and silently offered their prayers.
"Old gods, please protect Father, Mother, Robb, Arya, and Rickon and bring them home safely."
"Old gods, please grant victory to the North."
"Old gods, please watch over Garon and let him return safely from every battlefield."
Sansa's soft prayers reached Garon's ears.
A strange expression appeared on his face as he looked toward the ancient heart tree.
He had heard Sansa pray many times before.
This time was no different.
"Old gods, please let Sansa always be happy."
Garon smiled and quietly offered his own prayer.
When they finished, their eyes met.
Both could clearly see the affection reflected in the other's gaze.
The atmosphere was perfect.
Garon stood and gently pulled Sansa to her feet.
After a brief hesitation, he leaned forward and kissed her.
Sansa blushed.
Then she wrapped her arms around him and responded with equal passion.
"I love you, Garon."
"I love you too, Sansa."
They held each other tightly, kissing until they were both breathless.
Only then did they reluctantly separate.
After catching his breath, Garon drew Sansa into his embrace once more, whispering sweet words into her ear.
The two remained together until late into the night.
Eventually, Garon escorted Sansa back to her chambers.
After wishing her goodnight, he did not immediately retire.
Instead, he climbed the walls and conducted one final inspection of Winterfell's defenses.
Only after confirming that everything was secure did he return to his room.
His body was exhausted.
His heart, however, felt lighter than it had in days.
The moment his head touched the pillow, overwhelming fatigue engulfed him like a dark tide.
Yet his consciousness did not sink completely into darkness.
In a daze, Garon once again felt the familiar sensation of separation.
His spirit seemed to drift free from his body.
Moments later, he found himself merged once again with Winterfell's heart tree.
But this time was completely different.
His consciousness seemed to brush against an endless web.
Countless invisible threads stretched in every direction.
"Oh?"
"What is this?"
Within the heart tree, Garon discovered that his perception had expanded far beyond anything he had experienced before.
Perhaps because of the red comet blazing overhead, everything felt different.
A vast and ancient call echoed through his consciousness.
"Old gods?"
"Glover?"
Instinctively, Garon answered the call.
Instantly—
His consciousness was seized by the enormous web and pulled deeper and deeper.
It felt as though he were sinking into an endless ocean.
Then he saw it.
At the center of the vast network stood a magnificent tree beyond description.
Its trunk towered into eternity.
Its branches seemed woven from stars and green dreams.
Upon its bark were countless faces.
There were the small faces of the Children of the Forest.
The rugged faces of the First Men.
And innumerable blurred faces belonging to generations long forgotten.
At that moment, every face slowly opened its eyes.
All of them turned toward Garon.
Toward this foreign consciousness.
No voice sounded.
Yet an immense torrent of magic surged directly into his soul.
It was warm.
Powerful.
Ancient.
Boom!
Countless visions exploded within his consciousness.
A vast green power gradually spread throughout his entire soul.
At the same time, Garon's red eyes seemed to burn like flames.
"My child, on the day you were born, the forests of the North whispered your name, Garon Glover."
"According to the ancient covenant sworn between the First Men and the old gods, you shall receive our blessing."
"As long as you walk upon lands where the old gods are honored, no foreign deity shall influence your soul."
"My child."
"One day my life shall come to an end, and you shall inherit all that is mine."
As the green power completed its cycle through Garon's consciousness, every heart tree across Westeros rustled without wind.
Their crimson leaves trembled.
As though celebrating.
Or perhaps delivering a silent message.
Only a handful of beings sensed this phenomenon.
Bran Stark sensed it through his greensight.
The Three-Eyed Raven sensed it through the ancient weirwood network.
And on the Isle of Faces, the leader of the Green Men sensed it as well.
Within a sacred grove on the Isle of Faces, the Green Men's leader immediately fell prostrate before a heart tree.
"Hear your command."
"The Green Men shall pledge themselves to the Son of the Old Gods."
At the same moment, within the realm of greensight, the Three-Eyed Raven flew through endless forests.
"Stark, do you see it?"
Bran's spirit followed behind.
"Yes."
"I see it."
"I see the birth of the Son of the Old Gods."
The Three-Eyed Raven circled overhead.
"Assist him."
"Help him complete his mission."
"When his task is fulfilled, House Stark shall receive glory beyond imagination."
The raven vanished.
Bran abruptly opened his eyes within his bedchamber.
"Hodor."
"Take me to Lord Garon immediately."
"Hodor?"
The giant stableboy rubbed his eyes in confusion.
"Hurry."
"I need to speak with him."
Bran's face was pale.
His eyes, however, shone with astonishing brightness.
There was no trace of childishness remaining.
Ever since learning from the Three-Eyed Raven and walking through countless green dreams, many truths had stripped away the innocence of youth.
Still half asleep, Hodor lifted Bran onto his back and carried him through Winterfell.
Meanwhile, within Garon's dream, an entire night seemed to pass in an instant.
The first rays of dawn shone through the window.
Garon suddenly opened his eyes.
He sat upright.
All fatigue had vanished.
His mind felt clearer than ever before.
Deep within his soul, he sensed a warm protective force connected to the very land beneath his feet.
"The dream... was it real?"
Garon stared at his hands.
His voice was filled with uncertainty.
"Of course it was real."
The door opened.
Hodor stepped inside carrying Bran.
"Bran?"
Garon looked surprised.
"You're awake?"
Bran motioned for Hodor to place him in a nearby chair.
Afterward, he dismissed him.
Soon, only Bran and Garon remained in the room.
Bran skipped all unnecessary pleasantries.
"You felt it, didn't you?"
His calm voice carried an urgency beyond his years.
"Last night, the old gods chose you."
"The entire North whispered your name, Lord Garon."
Garon's heart trembled.
Yet his expression remained unchanged.
"Bran, I don't understand what you're talking about."
Bran smiled bitterly.
Eyes that had seen countless secrets looked directly at him.
"You do understand."
"Just as I understand that I am destined to become the Three-Eyed Raven."
"Lord Garon, I am not here to test you."
"I am here to help you."
Garon's gaze sharpened.
He rose from the bed and walked over.
Kneeling before Bran, he looked him directly in the eyes.
"Help me?"
"You are Robb Stark's heir, Bran."
"If anything happens to Robb in the south, Winterfell becomes yours."
"The Glovers serve the Starks."
"There is no reason for a Stark to serve a Glover."
His words were deliberate.
Partly a test.
Partly a reminder.
Bran lowered his eyes toward his useless legs.
Pain flickered briefly across his face.
"Heir?"
"A crippled heir who cannot father children?"
His voice became calm once more.
"The moment I fell from that tower, I lost the right to rule."
"The North will never follow a lord who cannot wield a sword or leave an heir."
"My path lies elsewhere."
"In the green dreams."
"In the realm of the Three-Eyed Raven."
"That is my purpose."
"And it is the greatest contribution I can make to the North."
Bran lifted his head.
His voice became firm.
"According to the ancient covenant, the old gods have chosen you."
"You will become the new hope of this world."
Garon remained silent.
Looking into Bran's determined eyes, he knew the boy truly believed every word.
After all, he had already witnessed some of Bran's strange dreams.
"The old gods..."
He hesitated.
Then finally replied.
"Let's leave this matter for later."
"I need time to think."
Bran smiled.
He already knew the answer hidden within Garon's heart.
"In that case, Lord Garon."
"I wish you victory today."
Outside the chamber, the soldiers of Deepwood Motte had already assembled.
The army was ready to march at a moment's notice.
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