Chapter 64 — Controlling the Human Body
Twenty-five days later—
They reached Craster's Keep once more.
The great hall of the keep was now filled with the wounded and the infirm—mostly children and the elderly.
It was Saelen's first time leading such a massive migration. Only now did he fully grasp the hardship of moving tens of thousands across the wilderness. Every single day brought losses—injuries, illness, accidents, exhaustion.
The road from the Fist of the First Men to Craster's Keep had been easier than the mountain passes before it, but fate had placed a river squarely in their path. Crossing that river alone had cost them six or seven days—and that was after abandoning large amounts of supplies. Had they insisted on carrying everything, they might have been trapped there far longer.
By the time the column finally reached Craster's Keep, nearly everyone was spent.
The able-bodied adults could still grit their teeth and push forward. But the wounded, the elderly, and the children could go no farther. No matter what was said, they needed at least two or three days of rest.
Saelen, Jon, Benjen, and Tormund sat around a campfire, speaking casually. From time to time, bursts of laughter broke through the tension—rare moments of relief in an otherwise grinding march.
It was then that Ethan approached with several free folk.
Saelen looked up first. "You're Ethan?"
Ethan nodded without expression.
Saelen paid the attitude no mind. He stood and walked to an open patch of ground, drawing a large circle in the dirt with a stick.
"This is the perimeter of our camp."
He then marked four points at the circle's cardinal directions.
"I want you to divide into four teams. One team for each direction. Patrol several leagues out. Watch closely for any unusual movement. If there's the slightest sign of trouble, report to me immediately."
He looked up at them.
"Understood?"
"Pah."
Ethan spat on the ground.
"Who do you think you are? The free folk don't take orders from outsiders. If we think we need to scout, we'll do it. We don't need some southern 'pretty boy' telling us what to do."
The other free folk nodded in agreement, their expressions defiant.
The laughter around the fire died instantly.
Saelen still wore a faint smile as he looked at Ethan. In his gray eyes, the reflection of the flames deepened—until orange fire seemed to fill his pupils completely.
Ethan's body suddenly jerked in an unnatural rhythm. His eyes rolled white for a split second before snapping back into focus. Then, without warning, he raised both hands and slapped himself hard—left and right.
Smack. Smack.
He lowered his head and bowed.
"Forgive me, my lord. I spoke out of turn."
The other free folk stared at him in shock, exchanging bewildered glances. They had no idea why Ethan had suddenly lost his senses.
At that moment, the fiery glow faded from Saelen's eyes, returning them to their usual calm gray.
Ethan stood frozen, confusion spreading across his face. He rubbed his swelling cheek with one hand while staring at the other in disbelief. Then realization struck him. He staggered back a few steps, pointing at Saelen.
"You… you…"
He swallowed several times before finally managing to speak.
"Even Varamyr—the so-called 'Six-Skins'—couldn't do that. And you just…"
His voice trembled with fear and awe.
Saelen's smile did not waver.
"Do you understand now?"
"I—I understand…"
Ethan forced himself to steady his breathing.
"Rest assured, my lord. I'll lead the free folk to watch all four directions."
He gave an awkward bow and left with the others, who were still utterly confused.
No one around the fire spoke. They had all witnessed something deeply unnatural—but not one of them chose to ask what had happened.
Saelen offered no explanation.
His identity as a skinchanger was already known. Revealing a little more would change little. Once they had grown accustomed to the strange things surrounding him, even the sight of him riding a dragon someday would not seem entirely impossible.
He let the smile fade and silently opened his system interface.
His Spirit value had dropped from ten to five.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Controlling Ethan for barely more than ten seconds had consumed five full points of Spirit.
When he possessed animals, there was no Spirit drain. Yet controlling a human body clearly required it—likely because humans possessed independent consciousness.
He thought back to the stories: Bran had controlled Hodor because Hodor lacked a functioning mind of his own. But Saelen's ability was different. He could override a conscious human—and afterward leave no lasting harm.
He rubbed his chin, pondering the mechanism, but no clear answer came. Eventually, he dismissed the panel. There would be time to study it later.
That night passed in uneasy silence.