[Winterfell - Library]
The next morning, in the library of Winterfell, Bran and Sam huddled together over a makeshift table, surrounded by parchments and scrolls. The fire crackled and spat, casting flickering shadows on the walls as they pored over the ancient texts. They were on a mission to decipher the meaning behind the symbols made from corpses left behind by the undead army, hoping to unlock the secrets of the Night King's creation.
"These symbols are unlike anything I've ever seen before," Bran muttered, his voice filled with frustration. "They seem to be some sort of ancient language, but I can't quite decipher them."
Sam nodded, his eyes scanning the pages nervously. "I've seen similar symbols in my studies of the First Men and the Children of the Forest. They're associated with the Old Gods, and the Isle of Faces is said to be where the Night King was made."
Bran's eyes widened. "The Isle of Faces? That's where the tree called Eye is, isn't it?"
Sam nodded. "The same. The ancient texts speak of a powerful tree that holds the secrets of the Old Gods. Some say it can grant visions and warging abilities to those who approach it."
Bran's brow furrowed. "But the Night King isn't human. He was once a man, and now he's something else entirely. Perhaps the tree's magic somehow played a part in his transformation."
Sam nodded in agreement. "It's possible. If we can find a way to reach the Isle of Faces, we might be able to uncover more about the Night King's origins and discover a way to defeat him."
The two friends fell silent for a moment, contemplating the dangers that lay ahead. They knew that reaching the Isle of Faces would not be easy, as it was said to be guarded by terrible creatures and protected by ancient spells. Bran's wheelchair would only make the journey more difficult.
"Sam, you have to warg into the tree and see if you can unlock its secrets."
Sam hesitated, his brow furrowed in concern. "Bran, I don't know if I can do that. I've never tried warging before, and I don't know if I can."
Bran's voice was firm, but gentle. "You have to try, Sam. We need your help to unlock the secrets of the Night King. I'll be here to guide you, and I'll do my best to help you control your warging abilities."
Sam took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, I'll do it. But promise me you'll be here to catch me if I fall."
Bran smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. "I promise. Now, let's do this."
Together, they delved into the ancient rituals and incantations, calling upon the powers of the Old Gods to grant Sam the ability to warg into the tree. As they worked, the air in the room grew thick with anticipation, and the shadows seemed to come alive with the power of the ancient magic.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He focused all his willpower on the tree, picturing its ancient bark and gnarled branches. Slowly but surely, he felt his consciousness begin to merge with the tree, its wisdom and power flowing into him like a river.
As he warged, the room around them seemed to fade away, replaced by the ancient memories of the tree. Sam saw visions of the First Men and the Children of the Forest, their rituals and sacrifices, and the creation of the Night King. He saw the tree's role in the creation of the White Walkers, and the secrets of the Old Gods that had been lost to time.
When Sam opened his eyes, he was shaken but exhilarated. "Bran, it worked! I saw so much. The tree granted me visions of the past, and I think I understand the Night King's creation now."
Bran's eyes were wide with wonder. "Tell me everything."
Sam took a deep breath and began to recount the visions he had seen, his voice filled with awe. "The Night King was created by the Children of the Forest, using the power of the Old Gods and the tree's wisdom. They wanted to create a weapon to defend themselves against the First Men, but they went too far and created a monster. The Night King was meant to be a weapon of last resort, but he became corrupted and sought to destroy all life in Westeros."
Bran nodded, his mind racing with the implications.
He had always known that the world was a dangerous place, but he had never suspected that the danger was so close to home.
As they sat there in the library, surrounded by the musty smell of old books and the faint scent of magic, Bran couldn't help but wonder what other secrets were hidden in the shadows of Winterfell.
Sam had spent countless hours within these walls, pouring over the stories of the past, seeking answers to the questions that plagued his mind.
As he delved deeper into his research, he came across a name that made his heart race - Bloodraven. The Three Eyed Raven, as he was known, was a figure shrouded in mystery, a man who had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only whispers and rumors.
Sam leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking onto the figure sitting across from him - Bran Stark. The young man, once the Prince of Winterfell, now sat silent and still, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the physical realm.
"Bran," Sam spoke, his voice low and urgent. "Do you know who Bloodraven really was? When you met him, did you know his true identity?"
Bran's eyes flickered, as if he was being pulled back from a far-off place. He hesitated before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I didn't know," he said. "I only knew that he was a strange, old man with a piercing gaze. He told me he was a servant of the Night's Watch, but I always sensed there was more to him than that."
Sam's mind raced as he pieced together the fragments of information he had gathered. Bloodraven, it seemed, was once known as Brynden Rivers, the bastard son of Aegon V Targaryen. He had been sent to the Wall as a member of the Night's Watch, but had disappeared on one of his missions. It was said that he had been driven mad by the horrors of the North, and had become the Three Eyed Raven, a being with the power to see into the past and the future.
But there was more to the story, much more. Bran's eyes seemed to bore into Sam's soul, as if he was trying to convey a secret message.
"Bran, do you remember when you met Bloodraven?" Sam pressed on, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember what he told you?"
Bran's face twitched, as if he was struggling to recall a distant memory. "He told me...he told me that he had been sent to the Wall to protect the realm from the darkness that was coming. He said that he had seen the future, and that the fate of Westeros hung in the balance."
Sam's heart raced as he realized the implications of Bran's words. Bloodraven, it seemed, had been trying to warn the people of Westeros about the coming darkness, but his warnings had fallen on deaf ears. They had believed him to be mad, driven by the Targaryen madness that had plagued his family for generations. And so, he had disappeared, leaving behind only the mysterious figure of the Three Eyed Raven.
Sam's mind was reeling as he tried to piece together the puzzle. Bloodraven, the Three Eyed Raven, was once a man named Brynden Rivers, a bastard son of Aegon V Targaryen. He had been sent to the Wall to protect the realm, but had been driven mad by the horrors of the North. He had disappeared, leaving behind only whispers and rumors, and had become the mysterious figure that had haunted Bran for so long.
As Sam sat there, surrounded by the dusty tomes of the Winterfell library, he knew that he had stumbled upon a secret that could change the course of history. He knew that he had to find a way to share this knowledge with the world, to make sure that the truth about Bloodraven and the Three Eyed Raven was known. For the fate of Westeros, and the future of the realm, hung in the balance.