"Child! You're on fire!"
Lady Shella burst in and saw the white flas dancing across Roman's body. She cried out and tried to rush forward.
Old Jesse moved fast. He caught her arm before she could reach him.
"My lady! You can't risk yourself!"
Roman waved a hand and calmly snuffed out the flas.
"I'm fine, my lady."
He turned in a slow circle so everyone could see.
Aside from the scorched clothes where Harren's ghost had ambushed him, Roman was completely unhard. Even the burns on his skin had healed the mont the white fire appeared.
"Boy, what the hell were those things?" Old Jesse asked, still staring at the charred marks on the floor.
"Harren the Black and his sons. They're gone now."
The words hit like a hamr. Every guard and Lady Shella herself went pale.
"You actually destroyed them?"
Ghosts were everywhere in Harrenhal. Roman heard the stories constantly. People said Harren's burning shade hunted anyone it saw until they burned to death.
Old Jesse had watched the entire fight. He was certain that had been the real Harren the Black.
"I did. I promise you, my lady. Master Jesse."
Roman held out his right hand. Pale white fire blood in his palm at his silent command.
"This fire is what destroyed them. And I can see the other ghosts too."
He flicked his wrist. A jet of white fla shot into a dark corner. A hidden ghost ignited instantly and let out a piercing scream.
The guards' last shred of courage collapsed.
"Seven save us!"
"Don't co near !"
Faced with sothing they couldn't see or fight, the n broke down like frightened children.
Lady Shella's sharp voice cut through the panic.
"Quiet! Roman is still here. He killed Harren the Black. What do you have to fear from one more ghost?"
The n slowly cald. A few of the braver ones even leaned in to study the burning shade.
"Wait… isn't that the lake bandit from a few years ago? The one who used to raid God's Eye?"
After a quick round of recognition, they confird it. The ghost really was a minor criminal who had died years earlier.
Roman's interest sharpened. He had assud only famous nas beca ghosts.
Apparently Harrenhal's curse was stronger than that. Even naless scum could linger and keep harming the living.
The bandit's shade didn't last long. The white fire consud it completely.
Lady Shella watched the spot where not even ash remained. A new thought struck her.
"Child… if even n like that can beco ghosts, then others might have as well."
She hesitated, then voiced the hope she had carried for years.
"Child… if it's possible, could you look for my family's ghosts?"
Roman blinked. He had almost forgotten.
After Robert's Rebellion, Lady Shella had lost everyone. If small-ti criminals could linger, then surely Walter Whent and their children could too.
He smacked his palm against his thigh.
"I understand, my lady. Leave the rest of the ghost hunting to . I'll keep an eye out for Lord Walter while I work."
After absorbing Balerion's fire and being reborn in white fla, Roman's eyes could now see things ordinary people couldn't. He suspected it was another side effect of his dragon blood.
In the days that followed he systematically cleared Harrenhal of ghosts.
The truly evil ones he burned away without rcy. The uncertain ones he brought to the steward for identification first.
What he learned surprised him.
Many of the lingering shades belonged to servants' ancestors—old grandfathers and grandmothers, or people who had simply died tragically inside the castle.
When the white fire touched them they beca visible for a short ti. Families were given the chance to speak with their dead one last ti.
During the process Roman's control over the flas improved dramatically.
After burning several malicious spirits he learned to dial the intensity down. The ghosts could now be consud slowly and without pain, giving their loved ones longer to say goodbye.
Servants and soldiers alike lined up to ask for his help.
"Please! Let talk to my daughter one more ti. It's been ten years… You found old George's grandfather. You can find her too, right?"
The requests never stopped. Roman explained again and again that he couldn't create ghosts—only find the ones that already existed.
Grief and sudden hope drove people half-mad with desperation. Roman spent almost as much ti comforting grown n and won as he did hunting shades.
Lady Shella received no news.
She had given Roman detailed descriptions of her husband and children weeks ago, but nothing had turned up.
She sat by the tall window in the pyre tower, gazing out over God's Eye and the green lands beyond. Loneliness sat heavy in her eyes.
"My lady! I found them!"
Roman burst in, breathing hard.
"Child? What did you say?"
Her old heart hamred so violently she felt dizzy. Hope and terror warred inside her.
"I found them near the crypts. I can sense them!"
Lady Shella tried to stand. The room spun. Roman caught her before she fell and pressed one of Maester Tom's ergency powders between her lips.
It took several long minutes for her heartbeat to steady.
"Thank you, child. I'm better now. Take to the crypts. Now."
Roman wanted to argue, but the raw pleading in her eyes stopped him.
"Just promise you'll be careful, my lady."
They hurried to the family crypts.
Roman had never truly appreciated their scale until now. Grand tombs, statues, and urns lined the wide passages in perfect order.
Nothing like the cramped Stark crypts he rembered from the show.
He didn't waste ti. He led Lady Shella through the maze until they stood before the statue of Lord Walter Whent.
To her eyes the space was empty.
To Roman, five ghosts stood clearly visible—an old man, four grown sons, and one daughter.
He bowed respectfully, then pressed his palm to the stone floor.
Pale white fire spread outward in a gentle wave. It passed over Lady Shella without harm and washed across the ghosts, making them fully visible.
Lady Shella saw her husband and children for the first ti in over a decade.
Tears filled her aged eyes.
"Finally… we're together again."
User Comments
0 comments from readers