Ned sat in his solar, sorting through provision numbers on parchment… the North was growing and stable, with more traders appearing on the roads. As he worked, someone knocked at the door. He kept his eyes on the numbers and told the visitor to come in.
It wasn't a guard… it was Old Nan.
Ned looked up, surprised to see her fidgeting like a young girl instead of the steady old woman he had always known.
"Old Nan, was there something you wanted to say?" Ned asked first.
"Yes," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I came to inform you that I am leaving Winterfell."
Ned finally looked up from the parchment and met her eyes.
"That's… I hope it is not because of what happened in the courtyard."
"Oh… no," she said quickly. "My son… There is a chance that he could be healed."
Ned frowned. As far as he knew, nothing could help Walder. Everything had already been tried, and Ned himself had helped. The Weir-Grip healers had treated many, but if they could heal those the Citadel could not, they were more than ordinary healers.
He studied her face.
"Are you sure of that?"
Old Nan only nodded.
She was more than a worker in Winterfell. She had been a mother figure to many, including Ned, who grew up under her care. It was hard to picture Winterfell without her, but she had her reasons to leave, and people had to move on.
"I see," Ned said quietly. "I will ask Maester Luwin to prepare everything for you."
"Thank you, Lord Stark," she said, bowing her head before exiting his solar.
Ned watched as the door closed behind her.
Erick stepped out of the gate and moved slowly, leaning on a wooden crutch and pretending to need it more than he did. He took careful steps, kept his breathing steady, and maintained his disguise.
His group waited for him near the wagon.
Mora sat on the driver's bench with the reins in her hands, sitting straight and patient. She looked at him as he approached but, staying disciplined, said nothing. She only shifted a little, ready to flick the reins and let Strike pull them forward.
Erick raised his hand. "Wait."
Mora froze mid‑movement.
"We have people joining us, so we need to wait a little."
She nodded once. Strike nodded as well, giving a big, slow dip of his head.
Erick looked at the horse. He wanted to say something, but he just sighed and let it go.
After a short while, Old Nan appeared, riding a horse with Walder beside her. Walder looked almost comical on the small northern mare. His legs nearly touched the ground, and the horse seemed to be praying to every god it knew.
Erick stepped forward.
"Let me introduce," he said. "This is Shiera… and Walder. They will join us."
Mora nodded respectfully. Dalla offered a small smile. Strike flicked his ears in acknowledgment.
Erick gave a quick explanation of the situation, just enough for them to understand.
Mora listened without interruption. Dalla's eyes softened when she looked at Walder. Strike snorted once, as if accepting the new additions to their strange little caravan.
"Where will we be going now?" Mora asked.
They could have continued their route, finishing their circuit, visiting the next village, and delivering herbs and salves. But Erick sensed a change. Everything was different now… this was no longer the world he knew.
He looked at each of them… "We… go home…"
---
Sereth sat at the front of the wagon, holding the reins… Tavian lay sprawled in the back, looking bored, while Jorren held a strange device that looked like a compass, except its needle wasn't pointing anywhere. At the moment, the needle spun in circles without direction.
Six knights rode ahead of them and four followed behind, their steel armor shining in the warm breeze… their blue cloaks flapped softly, and behind their helmet visors, their red eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking.
"Sereth, I need to tell you something. I think the magical needle is broken," Jorren said as he passed the device forward.
Sereth frowned as he took it. "It is strange. This specific magical needle has never shown wrongly. Did you do something to it?"
Jorren shook his head.
Tavian, still sprawled out, looked at them with mild interest. "If I understand how the magical needle works, there is one thing that changed. I thought you felt it too, so I didn't say anything."
Both men turned toward the young mage, waiting for an explanation.
"What changed? Just say it," Jorren snapped, eyebrow twitching as he looked at Tavian's lazy posture.
"The air," Tavian said.
Sereth and Jorren exchanged confused looks.
"You don't feel it? For the last few hours, it's been getting stronger the farther we travel."
"What is in the air?" Sereth asked, just as confused as Jorren.
"There is magic in the air."
Both men looked around, reaching out with their senses. Their eyes widened in surprise.
"Why did you say nothing?" Sereth demanded, anger rising.
"I thought you could feel it as well," Tavian replied with a shrug.
Sereth sighed and looked at Tavian. "Alright, next time say something when you notice something this important."
He thought for a moment. There were only a few reasons for such a phenomenon, and usually, they were good signs. He glanced at Jorren, who was already putting away the magical needle, now useless. It was meant to detect even the smallest magical disturbance, but with the air full of magic, it couldn't work.
"Do you have any clue?" Sereth asked, keeping eye contact with Jorren.
Jorren felt the surroundings carefully. "No… it could be some kind of magical plant, but the magic is all over the place, without any clear location."
Tavian shifted in his seat. "That's not quite right."
Both men looked at him again.
"Can you explain it in one sentence?" Jorren muttered, annoyed by Tavian's attitude.
"From what I can feel," Tavian said, "the magical energy at Torrhen's Square was weaker than it is here. As we travel toward Sea Dragon Point, it keeps getting stronger."
Both men looked even more annoyed.
"Are you telling me you sensed increased magical energy already in Torrhen's Square?" Sereth asked, furious.
Tavian shrugged again. "As I said, I thought you could feel it too."
Sereth was sure of one thing… one day he would knock the arrogance out of Tavian. Still, he knew that people born with the ability to sense magical energy were more sensitive to it. For them, it was normal. Sereth and Jorren had to make an effort to sense anything.
"What that means," Jorren said, "is that a region of no less than five miles is saturated with magic. I've never heard of such a phenomenon."
Sereth paused, then stopped the wagon. He jumped into the back, climbed over Tavian, and pulled a cloth aside to reveal a cage with a crow. He took a small slip of parchment from his bag and, kneeling, wrote a short message.
He took the crow from the cage, tied the message to its leg, and threw it into the sky. Tavian watched it fly away.
"Wasn't this crow needed when we finish our objective?" Tavian asked, confused.
Sereth looked at Tavian, who seemed confused, then at Jorren, who looked excited.
"You are still young," Sereth said, "and in the Order of Ink and Ash you joined only recently. You don't know, but because you are now part of us, I can tell you. For ages, one of our order's primary tasks has been to find a place where magical energy concentration is naturally higher."
"I still don't know if this is the place," he continued, "but finding something like this is our top priority to report."
Sereth climbed back to the front, pulled the reins, and let the horses move again.
"You said the magical energy keeps getting stronger. We'll continue our task and see if we can find anything along the way."
---
A gentle summer wind pushed against the wagon's canvas as Corwyn sat hunched on the wooden bench. He was lucky… with some coin, he had found a spot on a trader's caravan. The wheels creaked beneath him as the horses carried him deeper into the North. Every bump made his bones ache, but it was nothing compared to the shiver running up his spine.
He couldn't stop remembering Winter Town.
He thought he was safe there, hidden and blending in. But then he saw them… the Weir-Grip healers… passing through the street. Just seeing them made his skin prickle. He had hoped it was over, that he had escaped whatever nightmare happened in Ironpine, but seeing them again, even from a distance, made him shiver.
He was probably the only one alive who knew they weren't just simple healers, not kind women with herbs and salves, not wandering medics, but demons.
He had no real proof. Everything from that night in the forest was a blur… voices, speed, the crushing weight of fear. But he remembered enough… being carried like a sack, the corpses of his comrades, and two women holding those bodies as if they weighed nothing… he saw them again in the wagon, even though they didn't look at him, even though they didn't stop… he shivered. His breath hitched. His fingers dug into the wooden seat.
He didn't have a map, but he knew the Westerosi lands well. He also knew that the farther north he went, the fewer agents there were.
That was good. That was safety. That was distance from the organization that would kill him the moment they realized he was still alive.
But deep down, he knew the truth… he could survive three months in the wild with his provisions. Three months, and then what? He needed a place where he could sleep without looking over his shoulder, eat without worrying someone would slit his throat, and a place where he could hide from the organization.
And in all the North, only one place fit that description… a place he knew the Citadel found least interesting: Bear Island.
---
In the imperial palace, Prince Bu Weichen sat in his court. He was strikingly handsome, with sharp, aristocratic features that made him look like a marble statue. His long, straight silver-white hair fell past his shoulders, a trait his family said marked him as having divine blood. His pale gray eyes were cold and calculating, always judging those around him. His skin was fair and almost flawless, and he stood over six feet tall with a lean, athletic build.
Hall was vast and imposing… built of polished black stone veined with gold… pillars shaped like coiling dragons lined both sides, their open jaws holding lanterns that cast warm amber light on the floor.
Silk banners in deep crimson and imperial blue hung from the ceiling, embroidered with the imperial house's sigil… an eight-headed serpent encircling a sun…
Air smelled faintly of lotus oil from braziers near the throne.
The prince sat elevated… a pedestal throne carved from pale jade, its back shaped like unfurled wings…
Beside him stood a servant girl in soft white robes… whenever the prince lowered his head, she placed a grape gently into his mouth.
Below him, Minister of State Shen Guozhi knelt patiently on the polished floor. In the imperial court, unless someone of higher rank gave permission, one could only kneel and wait. Shen Guozhi looked frail, with a bent back and a long white beard reaching his chest. He wore simple dark blue robes instead of fancy court silks, carrying only a jade seal and a bamboo fan. His eyes were soft and almost sleepy, so many mistook him for a harmless scholar. Only those who knew him well saw the sharp intelligence behind his calm smile.
Bu Weichen sighed and lazily waved his hand, granting the minister permission to speak.
"Thank you, your highness," Shen Guozhi said. His voice echoed faintly through the hall. "I received news of your sister Bu May‑Lin's recent dealings with one of the traders… specifically House Qianhai. As you know, it is one of the biggest trading families in Yi Ti. Their reach stretches as far as the Summer Sea. They mostly trade in silks, precious gems, and rare books. Thanks to our spies in the house, we were able to obtain unusual specifics of the princess's request. She was looking into obtaining fossilized dragon eggs…"
Bu Weichen took a cup of wine from a nearby stand and slowly swirled it, the liquid catching the lantern light. He smirked at the minister.
"And what is so strange about that? She can do whatever hobby she likes. If she wants to collect dead lizards, let her."
He turned his head, and the servant placed another grape in his mouth.
"Yes," Shen Guozhi continued, "but her activities in recent times are all unusual. And her guard Khen‑Zai is nowhere seen… for the last five moons now. I was able to find out that five moons ago the princess purchased a batch of Light Magi from the Thousand Lantern Pavilion, but just like Khen‑Zai, they vanished."
At the mention of Khen-Zai, a flicker of greed crossed Bu Weichen's face. But he knew Khen-Zai was too loyal to his sister. Besides, he controlled the First Regiment, the White Tiger Army. Even if she was planning something, Bu Weichen was sure everything would end up in his hands.
"I understand your worries, Minister Guozhi," he said, waving dismissively, "but I don't see any issues with my sister's hobbies."
Shen Guozhi wanted to say more, but Prince Bu Weichen waved him away. The old minister nodded reluctantly and left the prince's court, his posture bent and his steps slow. The echo of his sandals faded beneath the tall pillars and silk banners.
Seeing Shen Guozhi's posture, Bu Weichen couldn't hold back a smirk. Once, this high-and-mighty minister was out of reach, but now even he was under Bu Weichen's control.
'Just a little bit more,' he thought.
---
As soon as Shen Guozhi left the prince's court… he changed immediately… when the heavy wooden doors closed behind him, his back straightened, his shoulders lifted, and the frail old minister disappeared. Now, a man with light, purposeful steps moved through the palace corridors with quiet confidence.
Palace corridors were vast… his steps echoed… lined with tall pillars carved into serpents and phoenixes. Sunlight streamed through latticed windows, casting patterns on the polished obsidian floors.
Silk banners fluttered gently overhead like clouds, moved by a faint breeze from the open arches. Servants bowed as Shen Guozhi passed… none spoke… his reputation for calm authority followed him everywhere.
Leaving the palace, he stepped into the open courtyard where the summer sun blazed overhead. The heat pressed down on him, making his robes stick to his back. At his age, he hated this kind of warmth. Luckily, a light breeze swept across the courtyard, carrying the scent of lotus ponds and cooling his skin just enough to keep him going.
His quarters lay in a quieter wing, separated from the main courts by a long stone walkway shaded by flowering trees.
He was welcomed into a space far simpler than the grandeur he had just left, with a carved door standing open…
Shen Guozhi's quarters were modest but tidy. Shelves lined the walls, filled with scrolls, ledgers, and old records. A large desk stood in the center of the room, topped with a tall, wobbly stack of documents waiting for him. Wide windows let in sunlight and the soft sound of garden leaves. A single incense burner sat in the corner, its smoke curling upward. Of all the ministers in the palace, Shen Guozhi was one of the few who truly did his work well. Even so, the workload was sometimes too much for him. Before starting, he poured himself a cup of tea and watched the fragrant steam rise. Looking at the pile of parchment, he sighed.
Then the air changed.
A sudden drop in temperature swept through the room. Moments before, a warm breeze had come through the window, but now the air felt much colder. It was strange. Shen Guozhi looked around, but no door had opened, and no window had moved.
He scratched his head, feeling uneasy. But seeing nothing unusual, he just shrugged.
Approaching his desk, he froze.
A letter lay atop the documents.
He was certain it had not been there before.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. The room was empty, but he knew better.
Shadow Magi.
Just thinking about them made his hand tremble around the teacup.
He sat down slowly and opened the letter. Its seal was a simple M, but seeing it made his posture straighten instantly.
'Minister Shen Guozhi, as promised, your family is safely extracted from Yi Ti. They have been provided with enough funds to last their lifetimes.
Thanks for all your hard work over the past years, and again, thank you for supporting me.
… M.'
His gamble all those years ago had been right. He let out a shaky breath.
When the Azure Emperor declared his seclusion years ago, the powerful went mad. Shen Guozhi was no better. But unlike other ministers who clung to power, his only fault was wanting a family. As an imperial minister, that was forbidden, but his heart was weak.
He had been raised from childhood to serve the imperial palace, but as a man, he had his own dreams. He fell in love with a servant girl. They hid their relationship carefully. Eventually, they had children… a smart son and a beautiful daughter.
The first time he received a letter with the seal M, he quickly realized it was from Princess Bu May-Lin. Back then, she was just a brat. He thought it was a joke, but the letters' content made him reconsider. He believed some hidden power was behind her. Even now, he still thought so. But as the years passed and he hid more of what Bu May-Lin did, he became less certain.
While her siblings grabbed power openly, she built hers quietly, in the shadows, right in front of the whole imperial court.
Today, as always, he had told the truth… but only part of it. He understood how Bu May-Lin played her cards. She did something, but hid its scope, pretending to buy dragon eggs. He smirked. It wasn't so simple, and he knew it. And when he told the prince, he already knew what the response would be... arrogance and self-importance.
The imperial court was blind. Power had been divided long ago, yet the empire still stood. No one dared to ask why the fragile order still held.
After reading the letter, Shen Guozhi felt a bittersweet relief. Even if he would never see his children or the love of his life again, at least he knew they would live well.