"If it is true, no child of the north will die from hunger." I looked up at the eagle. The bird cocked its head, as if it understood our words.
I walked to the pouch and carefully untied it from the eagle's legs. The bird did not move, did not flinch. Inside the pouch were dozens of small silk pouches labeled in Jon's neat handwriting.
I pulled out the pouch marked "Apple"
"Stand back," I told the others.
I knelt near the heart tree, dug a small hole in the earth with my bare hands, and placed a single seed inside. Following Jon's instructions, I covered it with soil, poured water from my waterskin over it, and added a handful of horse dung we had brought from the stables.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the soil shifted.
A green shoot pushed through the earth. It grew rapidly, an inch, then a foot, then three feet in the span of heartbeats. Branches sprouted. Bark thickened and darkened. Leaves unfurled in a rustling wave.
Then the wind came.
It hit us all at once, a powerful gust that made the men stagger backward. The leaves of the heart tree thrashed wildly. Smaller branches snapped and flew through the air. The wind howled through the godswood, pulling at our clothes, making the ancient weirwood creak and groan.
"Seven hells!" Ser Rodrik shouted over the roar.
The growing tree stood at the center of it, pulling the wind toward itself like a lodestone draws iron. The air rushed past us, cold and fierce, all flowing toward the expanding trunk and spreading branches.
The men behind me clutched at nearby trees to keep their footing. One of the younger guards fell to his knees. Maester Luwin's chain clattered against his chest as he braced himself against the heart tree.
The wind grew stronger. I could hear shutters banging in the castle above. Shouts of alarm from the yards. Something metallic clanged in the distance, torn loose and sent tumbling.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the wind stopped.
The tree stood before us, twenty feet tall with a thick trunk and spreading branches heavy with ripe red fruit. The godswood fell silent except for the nervous breathing of men and the settling creak of disturbed branches.
I stood slowly, my cloak still settling around me. The others straightened, looking shaken.
"What in the name of the old gods was that?" Ser Rodrik asked, his hand still gripping his sword hilt.
Maester Luwin stared at the tree, his scholarly composure badly shaken. "The speed of growth… wind moving towards it…. It must have required something from the air…" He trailed off, shaking his head. " Forgive me, my lord, this is beyond my understanding."
"It doesn't matter, " I reached up and picked an apple. It was solid, perfect, the skin smooth and cool in my hand.
I bit into it. Sweet, crisp, better than any apple I had tasted in years.
The men watched me, waiting.
"It is good," I said simply. I looked at the remaining packets in the pouch. "And we have enough to plant orchards across the North."
I turned to Luwin. "Send ravens. I want Lord Mormont of Bear Island, the Umbers, the Reeds, and the Glovers here. Tell them it is urgent but give no details. This knowledge stays among those I trust completely."
"And the Boltons, my lord?" Luwin asked carefully.
"We will start with more loyal houses that have proven their loyalty beyond question."
Luwin nodded and hurried back toward the castle, his robes still disheveled from the wind.
'I hope those parrots and my kids aren't causing any problem in Wolfswood'
…..
POV: Euron Greyjoy, The Smoking Sea
The Silence cut through dead waters. No birds flew here. No fish swam. Just ash grey waves and the distant ruins of Valyria rising from the mist like broken teeth.
I stood at the prow, feeling the heat rising from below. My crew moved silently behind me, mutes all of them, their tongues cut out years ago. Better that way.
We were close now. I could feel it. The ruins ahead held secrets the Citadel would kill to possess. Power the Targaryens had lost. Magic that could reshape the world.
Suddenly, I felt pain in my head; it was sharp, like a blade through my skull. I staggered, gripping the rail. The dead sea blurred before my eyes.
Voices filled my head, not one voice but many, overlapping, and speaking in a familiar tone.
Turn back..... Go to Braavos. Open the shadows....
I knew those voices. The Drowned God had spoken to me before, when I first set sail for Valyria. Whispered promises of power, godhood, and dominion over seas and storms.
"I am here," I growled through clenched teeth. "At the place you sent me. Why turn back now?"
Braavos. The shadows wait. Open them. Or the Storm will come.
"What storm? Speak plainly, damn you…"
The vision hit like a wave.
I saw a boy. Young, northern-looking, with a massive white wolf at his side. They stood in the great hall of Pyke, on the Seastone Chair itself. Around them lay corpses, ironborn warriors, priests, even the broken tentacles of a kraken larger than any ship I had ever seen.
The boy's eyes were cold. Empty. He raised one hand.
Above Pyke, the clouds began to spin. A vortex formed, purple lightning crackling at its edges. And from the center descended something that made my blood freeze even in vision.
A dragon.
Not like the Targaryen beasts I had read about in stolen books. This thing had four legs and two massive wings. Black scales that seemed to drink light itself. Eyes like burning voids.
It descended with the storm. Lightning wrapped around it, purple and violent, striking the sea and the rocks. When its claws touched the earth, the explosion was beyond sound, beyond fury. A wall of force that erased everything in its path.
When the dust cleared, the Iron Islands were turned into glass. Smooth black glass that was reflecting the white sky above.
And the boy with the white wolf stood untouched in the center of it all. I can't see his face, but from reflection, I can see his eyes, one green like wildfire, and the other violet like the valyrians of old.
The vision released me.
I collapsed against the rail, gasping for air. My mutes stared at me but said nothing, could say nothing.
"Turn the ship," I rasped.
They did not move, confused by the order.
"TURN THE DAMN FUCKING SHIP!"
…..
(A/N: I will upload extra chapters according to the power stones received.)