(Extra chap)
....
"But still, this is not enough," Marwyn said. "We are talking about the work of my entire lifetime."
Marwyn was quiet for a long moment. Then he gestured to Alleras. "Give him the bag."
"I can't give you all of my knowledge but I can give you what she is caring."
Alleras heaved the leather bag onto my table.
I opened the bag and pulled out the first tome. The pages were covered in dense script, diagrams, and sketches. This was a treasure trove of knowledge.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me, Most of what's in there is incomplete or speculative. Magic doesn't follow rules." Marwyn's expression was grim. "But it might keep you from making fatal mistakes."
"Speaking of which," I said, pulling out the shadow catalyst. "This is why I really needed to talk to you."
I explained what I'd learned from the fire and water catalyst, but very vaguely.
Marwyn listened to my words, his face was growing more and more serious.
"You're right to be cautious," he said finally. "Shadow magic isn't like the others. It doesn't originate in our world. The shapes you're seeing, those impossibilities, all of that's because the catalyst is trying to create a bridge to somewhere outside."
"And if I activated it? Installed it in a living creature?"
"At best? The creature would gain the ability to manipulate shadows, maybe move through them. At worst?" Marwyn's voice dropped. "You'd create an opening. A tear in the boundary. And things on the other side might notice. Might try to come through."
I carefully wrapped the shadow catalyst back up and set it aside. "Then I won't be activating it anytime soon."
"Wise." Marwyn paused. "You mentioned an expanded trade. What else are you offering?"
"Those notes and information about magic are valuable," I said. "But if you have access to other catalysts, ones held by the Citadel, perhaps, I'm willing to trade."
I let that hang in the air for a moment.
"I can make you young again," I said quietly. "Use my abilities to reverse aging, restore your body to what it was thirty or forty years ago. Give you decades more life to continue your research."
Marwyn went very still. Alleras's quill stopped mid-word.
"You can… reverse aging?" Marwyn said slowly.
"I can. It's complex, and it would take time, but yes. I can rebuild tissues, restore cellular function, undo the damage of years." I met his gaze. "In exchange, I want access to every catalyst in the Citadel's possession. Even if that means stealing them."
Marwyn was silent for a long time. I could see the calculation in his eyes.
"There are several catalysts there," he said finally. "The Citadel doesn't acknowledge their existence, those bastards never let me study them, but I know where they're kept. Fire, water, shadow—those you already have. But there are others.
Even stranger ones that don't fit into elemental categories.
And other artifacts and things are closely related to magic, like the preserved bodies of children of the forest.
But getting them, or as you say, stealing them, would be dangerous. The Citadel guards its secrets. If they discovered the theft…"
"They already tried to have me killed today," I said. "I might as well take something valuable from them while I have the chance."
Marwyn's lips twitched into something almost like a smile. "You've got balls, boy. I'll give you that." He stood, leaning on his staff. "Let me make some inquiries. See exactly what's in the vaults and how well it's guarded. Then we'll discuss the logistics of… liberating those catalysts for the cause of knowledge."
"And the youth restoration?"
"We'll do that after the theft," Marwyn said.
"Fair enough."
...
POV: Catelyn Stark, Winterfell.
I sat in my solar, the afternoon light streaming through the window, reading Petyr's latest letter. His words were always so careful, so concerned for my well-being.
My dearest Cat,
I pray daily at the Sept of Baelor for your safety and that of your family. The Sept's stones echo with my prayers that the Seven might shield you from all harm, especially from those who wield unnatural powers.
Your bastard, forgive me, your husband's bastard, now legitimized by the King's decree—practices dark arts in Braavos, he is sacrificing children and young maidens to weirwood.
He has become something other than human dear Cat. He has become a demon wearing a man's face.
I fear for you Cat. I fear for your children, and for all good people who still hold faith in the Seven.
So please, please be watchful. Be careful. And know that I remain, as always, your only true friend.
—Petyr
I set the letter down with trembling hands.
Petyr, he'd always cared for me, even after all these years. Even after Brandon had humiliated him in that duel, even after I'd married Ned instead, Petyr had remained true to me.
And now he was warning me about Jon. That bastard who'd always been a stain on my marriage, a reminder of Ned's infidelity. Now legitimized and calling himself Stark.
And practicing sorcery and sacrificing innocents in some foreign city.
'Demon.' What else could you call someone who brought the dead back to life? After all, he's definitely not the stranger, one of the seven gods.
"Arya I want it…. You're holding it…."
A commotion from outside made me look up. Children's laughter, excited voices. I stood and moved to the window.
In the courtyard below, I saw Robb, Arya, and Bran,
But they weren't alone, three enormous birds perched with them.
They were brightly colored and far larger than any bird I'd seen before.
One sat on Arya's shoulder, preening itself. Another perched on Bran's extended hand. The third was on Robb's shoulder, looking around with unsettling intelligence.
Then the bird on Robb's shoulder turned its head toward me. Its beak opened.
"Who is this woman?" it asked in Ned's voice. Perfect, exact, and unmistakably my husband's voice! "Look at her, she doesn't look like a northerner, is she some kinda rare breed? Like my brothers?"
…