If Winterfell was the heart of the North, then the true heart of Winterfell was undoubtedly the godswood.
This ancient godswood, spanning nearly three acres, was said to have existed for more than ten thousand years. According to the legends of the First n, Brandon the Builder himself had constructed Winterfell around this sacred grove with the aid of giants. Even after countless years, generations of Stark lords, and the rise and fall of kingdoms, the godswood still remained untouched, ancient and solemn beneath the eyes of the old gods.
The entire godswood was enclosed behind thick stone walls. To reach it from the Great Hall, one first had to pass through the training yard, then cross a long corridor leading toward the guest chambers, before finally following the stone passage to the iron gate entrance of the godswood.
At this mont, the moon hung high above Winterfell, while sparse stars scattered faintly across the dark sky.
The northern night wind howled endlessly between the stone walls of the castle, carrying a chill sharp enough to seep through clothing. Even Garon involuntarily shivered slightly as he tightened his cloak and continued forward through the dim training yard.
Along the way, he encountered several patrols of Winterfell guards carrying torches and spears. However, because Ned Stark had already given instructions earlier during dinner, no one stopped him.
Thus, Garon reached the iron gate of the godswood without obstruction.
Two torches burned quietly upon the walls on either side of the gate, their flickering firelight illuminating only a small portion of the darkness ahead.
Standing beneath the torchlight, Garon narrowed his eyes and looked into the godswood carefully, hoping to spot so trace of abnormality.
Unfortunately, the entire place remained deathly silent.
The dense forest seed to swallow all sound completely.
Towering black tree trunks pressed tightly together beneath the night sky, while twisted branches intertwined overhead to form a massive canopy that blocked nearly all moonlight. At a glance, the entire godswood resembled so ancient beast crouching silently within the darkness, waiting patiently for intruders to approach.
"Is the Three-Eyed Raven truly here?"
Garon observed carefully for a long ti, yet he could not discover even the shadow of a raven.
Of course, it was equally possible that the Three-Eyed Raven was hidden sowhere deep within the godswood, quietly observing him through the weirwoods.
"Forget it. Since I'm already here, there's no point hesitating now."
"If this is fortune or disaster, let the old gods decide."
A sharp glint flashed through Garon's eyes. Having made his decision, he rested one hand upon the hilt of the sword at his waist and strode directly into the godswood.
The darkness instantly swallowed his figure whole.
Following the narrow forest path, Garon slowly advanced toward the black pool located at the center of the grove. Beneath his feet lay thousands of years of accumulated damp humus, so thick that every step he took was absorbed silently into the earth.
The only thing surrounding him was an oppressive stillness.
This unnatural silence made Garon increasingly uncomfortable.
Without realizing it, he unconsciously quickened his pace.
After a short while, Garon finally arrived before the heart tree standing at the center of the godswood.
The black pool reflected the pale moonlight beside it, while the great white weirwood towered silently above the water.
Garon slowly raised his head.
The carved face upon the weirwood trunk stared down at him silently. Its deep eye sockets were stained with dried red sap that resembled blood beneath the pale bark. Under the moonlight, the ancient face looked strangely lancholic and eerie.
For a brief mont, Garon even felt as though those blood-red eyes were staring directly at him.
The dim surroundings, the oppressive silence, and the hidden presence of the Three-Eyed Raven lurking sowhere within the darkness caused Garon's nerves to tighten completely.
His gaze swept through the surrounding woods once more, yet all he could see beyond the weirwood were layers upon layers of darkness.
Finally, Garon could only look directly at the face carved into the heart tree and cautiously speak.
"I ca as agreed."
"Who exactly are you? Since you invited here, you should show yourself now."
His voice echoed softly through the godswood before gradually fading into silence.
No one answered him.
It was as though he were the only living person within the entire grove.
Garon frowned deeply.
After scanning the surroundings once more, he coldly threatened,
"If you still refuse to appear, then I'm leaving."
Still, there was no response whatsoever.
Seeing this, Garon could not help muttering to himself.
"Could I have mistaken the ti?"
He circled around the heart tree once, yet still found nothing unusual.
After hesitating briefly, Garon finally decided to leave for now and return tomorrow night to investigate again.
However, before departing, he still followed the customs of the North and knelt upon one knee before the heart tree to pray to the old gods.
It was precisely at that mont that several raven cries suddenly echoed within his ears.
"Caw... caw..."
The next instant, countless green motes of light surged upward from the ground around him.
Before Garon could react, the familiar sensation struck again.
Whoosh!
Space twisted violently.
Ti seed to reverse itself once more.
The overwhelming dizziness assaulted his senses again, but this ti Garon adapted far more quickly than before. After only a few breaths, he forcibly steadied himself and straightened his body.
The endless green void once more surrounded him completely.
Garon coldly scanned the mysterious space before speaking in a low voice.
"I've already co as invited."
"It's ti for you to show yourself."
As soon as his words fell, the floating green lights rapidly gathered together.
An aged figure slowly erged from within the phosphorescence.
Garon narrowed his eyes imdiately.
The old man before him possessed deathly pale skin and an emaciated fra. One of his eyes was nothing more than a hollow black socket, while the remaining eye glowed blood-red beneath tangled white hair. His left leg remained intact, but his right leg ended below the knee.
The elder leaned heavily upon a pale weirwood staff as he silently observed Garon for several monts.
Then his cracked lips slowly opened.
"Glo... ver..."
His voice sounded dry and hoarse, as though he had not spoken aloud for countless years.
The mont Garon saw the elder clearly, his heart tightened violently.
The identity of the person before him instantly beca obvious.
Brynden Rivers.
The Three-Eyed Raven.
Garon's vigilance imdiately rose to its highest level. Every muscle in his body tensed as he cautiously attempted to probe for information.
"Who are you exactly?"
"Why did you bring here?"
The Three-Eyed Raven seed to see through Garon's thoughts completely.
A mysterious smile slowly appeared upon his pale face.
However, instead of answering directly, he lightly tapped the ground with the weirwood staff in his hand.
Instantly, the entire space froze.
Under Garon's horrified gaze, an invisible force bound his body in place so thoroughly that he could not move even a single finger.
At the sa ti, an illusion of Winterfell suddenly appeared throughout the green void.
Then the scene began rewinding rapidly.
The history of Winterfell itself seed to reverse before Garon's eyes, along with every person who had ever lived there.
Ned Stark in his pri.
A younger Ned Stark.
Rickard Stark.
One generation after another flashed past at incomprehensible speed.
The rapidly changing scenes made Garon feel as though his mind were being torn apart. His vision spun violently, while nausea surged upward from his stomach.
Just as he felt he might vomit, a cool sensation suddenly spread from his eyes throughout his entire body.
His crimson eyes faintly glowed.
In the next mont, the invisible restraints binding him shattered completely.
Garon staggered backward several steps before barely stabilizing himself.
Then he subconsciously raised his head to look at the illusion still rewinding before him.
This ti, however, he could finally see everything clearly.
Boom!
Winterfell vanished entirely.
In its place appeared a hill surrounded by an endless prival forest.
"Wolfswood..."
Garon instantly recognized the familiar forest where he had lived for the past half year.
He looked toward the Three-Eyed Raven in shock, but the old man rely raised one finger to his lips, silently signaling him to continue watching.
At that mont, a tall man of the First n appeared upon the hill.
He possessed dark brown-black hair and a powerful physique.
Standing beside him was a small female Child of the Forest with blood-red eyes.
The two stood hand in hand upon the hilltop with their clasped hands raised high together.
Below them, countless First n and Children of the Forest appeared.
Though the two races remained clearly separated, they were all shouting excitedly toward the pair upon the hill.
Ancient and incomprehensible voices echoed continuously through the void.
Yet strangely enough, Garon understood their aning instinctively.
"King of the First n!"
"And Green Seer!"
Garon's pupils contracted violently.
An indescribable instinct rose within him.
The tall First Man before him...
Was the ancestor of House Glover.
But then...
What about the female Child of the Forest standing beside him?
Garon's mind descended into complete confusion.
He could not understand why the Three-Eyed Raven was showing him this scene.
Slowly, Garon turned his gaze toward Brynden Rivers.
At this mont, his own crimson eyes looked eerily similar to those of the female Child of the Forest within the illusion.
This ti, the Three-Eyed Raven no longer kept him waiting.
Leaning upon his weirwood staff, the old man slowly approached Garon while gazing quietly at the illusion before them.
His remaining red eye reflected the images as his dry, hoarse voice echoed softly throughout the green void.
"Descendant of Glover..."
"You guessed correctly."
"The First Man and Green Seer before you are indeed the ancestors of your bloodline."
Garon's heart shook violently.
The ancient rumors surrounding House Glover had actually been true.
The blood of the Children of the Forest truly flowed through the Glover lineage.
The Three-Eyed Raven slowly passed through the illusion itself as his ancient voice continuously echoed through Garon's mind.
"For countless generations, only you among the Glovers have been born with the eyes of a Green Seer."
"And therefore..."
The old man turned toward Garon.
A strange smile slowly spread across his pale face as he revealed a prophecy in an almost whispering tone.
"The covenant between House Glover and the old gods shall be fulfilled by you."
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