Godswood

If the heart of The North is Winterfell.

Then the heart of Winterfell is undoubtedly—

The Godswood!

This three-acre Godswood is said to have existed for over ten thousand years.

With the help of giants, Brandon the Builder constructed the entirety of Winterfell around this ancient Godswood.

The entire Godswood is enclosed by walls; to reach it from the Great Hall, one must first cross the training yard, pass through a long corridor to the guest chambers, and finally follow the passage to the iron gate entrance of the Godswood.

At this moment, the moon is bright and the stars are sparse, the night air as cold as frost.

The howling night wind of Winterfell makes Garon shiver uncontrollably.

In the dim training yard, he pulls his clothes tighter around himself and continues forward.

Along the way, Garon encounters several patrols of Winterfell guards.

However, because Ned Stark has already given the order, Garon is able to reach the iron gate entrance of the Godswood without obstruction.

A torch hangs on the wall on either side of the gate.

Garon stands beneath the torchlight, peering into the Godswood, trying to spot something unusual.

But this dark, primitive place is so silent it seems to swallow all sound.

The night is murky, and the thick, sturdy black trunks crowd against one another, their twisted branches weaving into a dense, towering canopy against the night sky.

At a glance, the entire Godswood looks like a hideous giant, waiting for someone to arrive.

"Is the Three-Eyed Crow really here?"

Garon observes for a long time, but finds no trace of any crows.

Of course, it is also possible that the Three-Eyed Crow is hiding deep within the Godswood, using the Weirwood to watch Garon in return.

"Whatever, I'm already here."

"Whether it's a blessing or a curse, I'll leave it to the Old Gods to decide!"

A sharp glint flashes in Garon's eyes. Having made up his mind, he rests his right hand on the hilt of his sword and strides into the Godswood.

The thick darkness instantly swallows Garon's figure.

He follows the forest path toward the pool of black water in the center of the Godswood.

Beneath his feet lies a millennium of accumulated humus; with every step, the sound of his footsteps is absorbed as if by a thick carpet.

Only a dull, oppressive silence remains.

This strange sensation makes Garon feel a trace of inexplicable discomfort.

He cannot help but quicken his pace.

Thus, only a moment later, Garon arrives beneath the Weirwood at the center of the Godswood.

Standing beside the black water, he stares at the face carved into the trunk; the deep eye sockets filled with dried red sap look extremely strange and terrifying in the night.

Garon even has the illusion that the red eyes of the face are staring back at him.

The gloomy environment, the eerie atmosphere, and the Three-Eyed Crow hidden in the shadows.

Every psychological suggestion keeps Garon's nerves pulled taut.

He rolls his eyes, trying to search for the presence of the Three-Eyed Crow, but in the dense darkness, he sees nothing but black when he looks up.

Finally, Garon can only stare at the melancholy face on the Weirwood and ask tentatively.

"I have come as agreed!"

"Who are you? It's time to show yourself."

His voice echoes between the black water and the Weirwood, but no one answers.

It is as if Garon is the only living person in the entire Godswood.

Garon frowns deeply. He scans his surroundings once more and threatens, "If you don't appear, I'm leaving!"

The surroundings remain as they were.

Seeing this, Garon cannot help but mutter to himself, "Could the time not be tonight?"

He circles the Weirwood once, but still finds nothing.

After a moment of hesitation, Garon decides to return for now and come back to check tomorrow night.

However, before leaving, Garon follows the customs of The North and kneels on one knee to pray before the Weirwood.

Yet it is precisely this action that causes a few "caw-caw" sounds of a crow to reach Garon's ears.

The next moment.

Countless green lights rise from the ground, instantly pulling Garon into a vision once again.

Whoosh—

Space inverts, time flows backward.

The familiar sensation surged once again.

Garon adapted within a few short breaths this time, then straightened his back.

He scanned the green space as he had before and said coldly, "Since I have come at your invitation, you should show yourself."

Instantly, green fluorescent light converged, and the figure of an elderly man emerged.

Garon fixed his gaze on him—

The old man's skin was deathly pale and gaunt, his two eyes consisting of one hollow, pitch-black socket and one blood-red eye. His left leg was intact, but his right leg was missing from the knee down.

He leaned on a cane made of weirwood, stared at Garon silently for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak.

"Glo...ver..."

The voice was slow and dry, as if the old man had not spoken in a very long time.

Garon's heart tightened as he recognized the old man before him as the Three-Eyed Crow—

Brynden Rivers!

He raised his guard to the highest level, carefully attempting to extract information.

"Who are you?"

"Why did you invite me here?"

The Three-Eyed Crow seemed to see through Garon's thoughts, a strange smile appearing on his pale face.

He did not answer Garon's question directly, but instead tapped his cane gently against the ground.

In an instant, the entire space froze.

Under Garon's horrified gaze, his body was bound within the space, unable to move a muscle.

Immediately following, the entire space manifested an illusion of Winterfell.

The next moment!

Under the manipulation of the Three-Eyed Crow, the historical timeline of Winterfell rapidly reversed, along with the figures living within it.

A prime-aged Eddard Stark, a young Eddard Stark, Rickard Stark...

The violent shifts in the illusion made Garon, who was merely a bystander, feel as if his brain had turned to mush, and he felt nauseated to the extreme.

But just as he was about to vomit, a cool sensation emanated from his eyes, dispelling the discomfort in his body.

His red eyes glowed slightly, and the magic that had bound him vanished without a trace.

Garon stumbled, then regained his footing.

He subconsciously looked at the illusion that was still reversing.

This time, Garon saw every change clearly and vividly!

Boom—

Winterfell vanished, replaced by a hill in a primeval forest.

"Wolfswood..."

Garon recognized the Wolfswood where he had lived for half a year at a glance. He looked at the Three-Eyed Crow opposite him in shock and suspicion, only for the Three-Eyed Crow to raise a finger to his lips, signaling him to keep watching.

At this moment.

A tall male First Man with brown-black hair appeared on the hill, and a short female Child of the Forest with red eyes appeared closely at his side.

The two held hands tightly and raised them high upon the hill.

Suddenly, countless First Men and Children of the Forest appeared below the hill.

They stood in distinct groups, shouting excitedly in an ancient tongue.

Harsh, clanging sounds echoed in Garon's ears, yet the meaning surfaced in his mind—

King of the First Men! And... Greenseer!

"This is..."

Garon's subconscious told him that the tall male First Man before him was the ancestor of the Glover line.

But what of the female Child of the Forest by his side?

Garon was utterly bewildered; he could not fathom the purpose behind the Three-Eyed Crow showing him this scene.

He raised his gaze, his red eyes—identical to those of the female Child of the Forest—fixed on the Three-Eyed Crow, seeking an answer from him.

And this time, the Three-Eyed Crow did not play coy.

Leaning on his cane, he slowly approached Garon while looking at the phantom with his remaining red eye, his voice dry and hoarse.

"Descendant of Glover, your guess is correct!"

"The First Man and the Greenseer before you are indeed the ancestors of your Glover line!"

Garon was shocked beyond measure; he had not expected the rumors of the Glover line possessing the blood of the Children of the Forest to be true.

The Three-Eyed Crow's body passed through the illusion, his long, drawn-out voice stirring Garon's mind.

"For countless years, you are the only one of the Glovers to be born with the red eyes of a Greenseer!"

"And because of this..."

The Three-Eyed Crow stared at Garon, a cryptic smile touching his lips, and revealed the prophecy of fate to Garon in a strange tone.

"The pact between the Glovers and the Old Gods shall be fulfilled by you!"