The next day, before dawn.
The meeting hall at Castle Black was already packed.
The fire blazed in the hearth, but it did nothing to dispel the heavy, oppressive atmosphere in the room.
Every officer of the Night's Watch who could attend had gathered there.
Only the First Ranger, Benjen Stark, was absent.
The head builder, Bowen Marsh, the Master-at-Arms, Ser Alliser Thorne, and several other officers responsible for supplies and defenses were all present.
Their faces were grim and their eyes sunken. Clearly, none of them had slept all night.
The events of the previous night had utterly shattered their illusion of safety.
Lynn sat at the far end of the long table as well.
In the past, this would have been unthinkable.
A supposed deserter had no right to attend a meeting at this level.
But now, no one raised any objection.
Alliser Thorne did not even dare meet Lynn's eyes.
He merely stared down at the tabletop before him, his expression dark.
Jeor Mormont sat at the head of the table.
He had changed into clean clothes, but the livid fingerprints on his neck remained a horrifying sight, silently testifying to the danger he had faced the night before.
There was not a trace of fatigue on Mormont's face.
An unprecedented fire burned in his keen eyes.
"You all know what happened last night."
Mormont's voice was exceptionally steady.
"Othell and Jaffer Flowers turned into monsters."
"They feared neither blades nor pain."
"They... became the Wights of legend."
The word "Wights" made everyone present instinctively tense.
Even though they had seen them with their own eyes, hearing the Lord Commander speak that word still sent waves of dread chilling through them.
This was a fear etched into the bones of the First Men, a fear that had