In Harrenhal's great hall, light fell through the high windows, cutting countless beams through the dust-laden air.
Dead silence.
Olenna Redwyne leaned on her cane.
On her wrinkled face, those sharp eyes never left Lynn for an instant.
Mace Tyrell stood behind his mother, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat.
His breathing was heavy, like a fat pig about to be led to slaughter.
The other vassals of the Reach stood well back.
Their faces were full of suspicion, along with a hint of morbid curiosity.
They were about to witness either a fraud or a miracle.
There was no third possibility.
Margaery stood beside Lynn, her hands clutching the hem of her clothes.
Her gaze was fixed on the Ice Coffin, as though she could melt its thick ice by staring at it.
Lynn paid no heed to their stares.
He simply walked calmly up to the Ice Coffin and extended a hand.
[Flame Resurrection has advanced to Legendary Rank]
A line of text only he could see flashed before his eyes.
Melisandre could resurrect Snow even at the beginner level. Now that the skill had reached Legendary Rank, using it was effortless, and it no longer even required king's blood.
He gently pressed his palm against the surface of the Ice Coffin.
There was no dazzling light, no surge of world-shattering energy.
An aura as warm and gentle as spring sunshine slowly seeped from his palm.
It carried a vitality beyond anything words could describe.
Crack.
A sound so faint it was barely audible.
A hairline crack appeared on the surface of the solid Ice Coffin.
Then a second, a third...
The cracks spread rapidly, covering the entire Ice Coffin.
Everyone in the hall held their breath, their eyes wide, afraid of missing even