There was no light in the depths of the House of Black and White.
Theon Greyjoy followed Jaqen H'ghar, his footsteps amplified by the enclosed corridor, then swallowed by the darkness.
He felt as though he were walking toward the end of the world-or the beginning of another.
"A man must forget."
Jaqen's voice was flat.
"Forget his name, forget his sigil, forget hatred, and forget kindness."
At the end of the corridor stood a pool.
Its water was black as ink, utterly still, reflecting nothing.
"Drink it." Jaqen pointed at the pool.
"The Many-Faced God will wash away your past."
Theon stared at the water without moving.
Forget?
How could I possibly forget?
These things had already been carved into his bones.
Jaqen seemed to see through his hesitation.
"A man is afraid."
"No."
Theon shook his head, stepped forward, and without hesitation scooped up a handful of the black water and drank it down.
The water was cold and tasteless.
He felt nothing after drinking it, either.
No splitting headache, no flood of memories. Nothing happened.
Theon raised his head and looked at Jaqen.
For the first time, something like approval appeared on Jaqen's expressionless face.
"Very good."
"From now on, you have no name."
Theon knew this was the first test.
The water could not wash away memories at all. It tested his resolve.
Whether he dared drink this unknown liquid, whether he dared place his fate in the hands of the Many-Faced God.
His gamble had paid off.
"Yes, I have no name," Theon replied quietly.
From that day on, Theon Greyjoy was dead.
What survived was a nobody doing menial work in the House of Black and White.
Every day, he scrubbed floors, prepared the bodies of those who came seeking the "gift," and listened