"Huh?"
The young maester frowned.
After speaking to his companion for several moments without receiving any response, he instinctively looked up from the floor. He had been struggling to remove his boots and had paid little attention to his surroundings.
What he saw next froze the blood in his veins.
The corpse.
The very same corpse that had been lying motionless on the wooden examination table only moments ago.
It was standing.
For a moment, his mind refused to process what his eyes were telling him.
That was impossible.
The body had been dead for days. Its internal organs had been removed and preserved in specially prepared solutions. Large sections of flesh and skin had been cut away during examination.
The corpse's chest had even been split open with a hand axe.
Yet there it stood.
The cavity of its chest gaped open like a dark, blood-soaked cave. Pale ribs protruded through torn muscle tissue that hung loosely from its frame. There was no heart. No lungs. Nothing that should have allowed it to move.
And yet it moved.
The maester's mouth fell open.
No sound emerged.
It felt as if an invisible hand had wrapped around his throat and squeezed.
Unable to breathe, he stared upward.
The corpse's neck had been dissected as well. Charred flesh hung from both sides of the open wound. The tongue dangled from its mouth, limp and unsupported.
Then he met its eyes.
Two brilliant blue eyes.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Glowing like sapphires beneath the candlelight.
The hammer they had used to split open its chest rested firmly in its hand.
At that moment, the maester finally understood.
Cold sweat erupted across his body.
His robes clung to his back.
Every instinct screamed at him to run, but terror had rooted him in place.
The sight before him was so far beyond human understanding that his thoughts simply stopped functioning.
His brain refused to accept reality.
Only when the corpse slowly raised the hammer above its head did survival instinct finally break through his paralysis.
The maester turned desperately toward his companion.
He wanted to scream.
To warn him.
To beg for help.
Instead, another nightmare greeted him.
Beside his companion stood a second corpse.
This one was even more horrifying.
The top of its skull had been removed during examination. Half of its brain had already been scooped out for study.
Yet it stood.
Alive.
Or perhaps something far worse than alive.
A crescent-shaped hand axe rested in its remaining hand.
Unfortunately, the axe was no longer where it belonged.
It had been buried deep into the side of his companion's neck.
Blood poured from the terrible wound.
The man's head lolled sideways at an unnatural angle as life rapidly drained from his body.
The examination table beneath him turned crimson.
That was the final thing the young maester ever saw.
The hammer descended.
A scream echoed through the night.
"AAAAAH!"
---
Outside the building, panic exploded.
"What in the Seven Hells is that?!"
"Help!"
"Someone help us!"
"They're killing people!"
The peaceful silence of Castle Black shattered instantly.
Cries of terror.
Shouts of anger.
Pleading screams.
The sounds blended together into a chaotic symphony of fear.
Men who had been sleeping moments earlier awoke in confusion.
Night's Watch brothers and Lannister soldiers alike scrambled from their beds.
They threw on cloaks, grabbed weapons, and rushed into the freezing darkness.
What greeted them left them utterly bewildered.
The snowy courtyard had descended into madness.
Figures chased one another through the darkness.
Some fought desperately.
Others fled in terror.
Several bodies already lay motionless in the snow.
At first glance, everyone appeared to be fighting their own comrades.
The confusion was complete.
No one understood what was happening.
Then a terrified voice cut through the chaos.
"The corpses!"
"The corpses from earlier have come back to life!"
"They're wights!"
"They serve the White Walkers!"
The shout echoed across the castle.
"They're hunting the living!"
"Kill them!"
"We have to kill them!"
The Westerland soldiers exchanged confused glances.
White Walkers?
Most of them had never seen one.
Most had never believed they existed.
To them, White Walkers were stories told to frighten children.
Ancient legends buried beneath thousands of years of history.
Meanwhile, many of the original Night's Watch brothers immediately recognized the significance of the name.
Yet recognition did not bring courage.
How could it?
The enemy standing before them belonged to nightmares.
Creatures thought extinct for eight thousand years.
Horrors that should have remained in old stories.
And now those stories were walking among them.
Blue eyes gleamed throughout the darkness.
One after another, living men fell.
The snow turned red.
But the horror did not stop there.
Some of the fallen began moving again.
Slowly.
Unnaturally.
Shakily.
The dead rose from the snow.
Their eyes opened.
Blue.
Cold.
Hungry.
They turned toward their former brothers and joined the slaughter.
The panic intensified.
The situation spiraled out of control.
Men awoken from sleep could not immediately comprehend what they were seeing.
The darkness concealed details.
Fear clouded judgment.
Some thought they were witnessing a mutiny.
Others believed wildlings had somehow infiltrated Castle Black.
Few understood the truth.
And by the time they did, it was often too late.
Within minutes, nearly two dozen wights rampaged throughout the castle.
Only thirty or forty brave souls dared stand against them.
Yet they struggled to form a coherent defense.
The enemy had once been their friends.
Their brothers.
Their comrades.
Now those same familiar faces attacked without hesitation.
Every casualty strengthened the enemy ranks.
The battle became increasingly hopeless.
---
Elsewhere within the Commander's Tower, Tywin Lannister awoke abruptly.
His eyes snapped open.
The sounds of chaos reached him even through thick stone walls.
Frowning, he sat upright in bed.
Why was there so much noise?
Instinctively, he glanced toward the window.
Outside, the world remained pitch black.
The night had not yet ended.
Yet the sounds of battle continued to grow louder.
Then—
BANG!
A violent impact struck his bedroom door.
Tywin instantly stiffened.
The entire door frame rattled.
It sounded as if someone had thrown themselves against the door with reckless force.
Another crash followed.
BANG!
Years of experience immediately sharpened his senses.
Someone was trying to break into his room.
Someone intended to kill him.
Tywin moved without hesitation.
Throwing aside his blankets, he crossed the room in seconds.
Longclaw rested nearby.
The Valyrian steel blade slid silently from its scabbard.
Tywin positioned himself beside the door.
His back pressed against the wall.
His grip tightened around the hilt.
He did not waste time asking who stood outside.
People seeking conversation did not smash down doors in the middle of the night.
The enemy intended violence.
That much was obvious.
So Tywin waited.
Perfectly still.
Perfectly silent.
Listening.
Outside, he heard movement.
Footsteps.
Heavy breathing.
Someone struggling to rise after slamming into the door.
Then silence.
The attacker had retreated.
Tywin narrowed his eyes.
Every muscle in his body tensed.
His left hand slowly reached toward the iron bolt.
Quietly.
Carefully.
The lock slid open.
Almost immediately, the footsteps outside accelerated.
Closer.
Closer.
Faster.
Then—
BANG!
The door burst inward.
But unlike before, there was no resistance.
The charging figure stumbled through the doorway and crashed into the room.
At that exact moment, Tywin moved.
Instead of attacking immediately, he slipped past the intruder and exited the bedroom.
Sword raised.
Eyes searching.
Expecting additional attackers.
Yet the study outside was empty.
Almost.
One figure lay motionless on the floor.
His personal guard.
The man who should have been protecting him.
Tywin paused.
No second attacker appeared.
No ambush followed.
His mind rapidly analyzed the situation.
Perhaps this was a mutiny.
Perhaps someone within the Night's Watch had attempted assassination.
If so, the threat might be smaller than he initially feared.
Allowing himself a brief breath of relief, Tywin lowered Longclaw slightly and turned back toward his room.
Then everything changed.
The intruder was standing again.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)