athassprkr
patreon
(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 107: Hardened Earth
🕑 Added 2025-11-20 14:00:13 +0000 UTCChapter 107: Hardened Earth
123 AC, The Haunted Forest, Beyond the Wall
Leaf looked back at the Heart Tree, one of the oldest in existence, and the home of what remained of her people. She couldn’t help but feel wary about the journey ahead. Ash and Scales would protect them until her return, for the Singers shall return, if only for one last song in the face of the Cold Ones. Those were not their names, nor was her name truly Leaf. They were what the Last Greenseer called them, thanks to what little understanding he had of the True Tongue.
Alas, Leaf would go where she must, for she could not leave the fate of her people to another, especially not humans. She had roamed the world of men and found their best and their worst. Her kind disliked them almost as much as the Cold Ones, for men had short memories. Their pacts were always eventually broken. They could also be kind in a way that her kind were not, ambitious in a manner that she would have never thought possible, and far more dangerous and crueller than she had ever thought possible.
Every one of her kindred had been born with a purpose, one granted by the Gods themselves. Leaf had spent much of her life trying to understand her own and realised that it had been to travel. She was the last-born, by quite a large margin. Her existence was a miracle from the very Gods. They thought her chosen. A few even thought her to be their salvation and despaired at the fact that she left.
She did not know why the Old Gods bid her to travel the world of men so, but she knew that she was not her kindred’s salvation, nor was she some kind of weapon. In fact, she had almost killed most of her people this day. She should not have thrown the Black Stone, or as men called it, Dragonglass, spear at the humans.
The Cold Ones’ thralls have long attempted to break through the Gods’ protections or perhaps take them by surprise. She had been surprised when three figures arrived, especially one who radiated Death, for it was the Cold Ones’ domain.
Leaf had thought that she would die in that moment, and decided to do so, having at least attempted to attack the creatures who would slay her and her kin. What did she expect of a presence that overwhelmed everything around it, whose song was so foreign that she could not understand.
Her fingers trembled slightly at the memory, and despite her instinct, she couldn’t help but stare at the creature that falsely called itself a man. For what man could have stars for eyes, or have a realm within his soul? She had glimpsed briefly his song, before it had gone silent, and she still could not fathom the depths within. No human could bear such power. Even the greatest sorcerers she had seen in the East paled before him. He had not threatened them, nor shown hostility, yet every movement, every word, reminded her that he did not belong to their world.
His sheer presence warped the promised songs, and she was not sure if it was for the better. Each chosen Greenseer had worked for centuries trying to create a song where life would triumph against the Cold Ones. It had been a delicate melody, a sorrowful one, yet the path to Spring required it. Now, they did not know what was promised, not anymore, only darkness.
Stranger was what she called him in the depths of her mind, for it was fitting. He was Death given form, an eventual end that even Gods could not resist. In his song, she had witnessed the final wails of the Deep One, having gone silent many moons ago. She witnessed the thankful whispers of the Great Mother, whose cries had faded away. It had made him all the more terrifying in that single moment she had seen him, which had pushed her to throw that spear at him and his companions, knowing that it would likely achieve nothing, nonetheless.
And to pile misfortune atop misfortune, the Last Greenseer had kept it from her and her kindred. Her kin chose their Greenseer and offered a very simple exchange: to learn their magic and extend their lives at the service of the Gods, in exchange for protecting them during their great slumbers, to guide the world of man towards the path to spring. They trusted him, and yet, he had failed them.
Even his chosen successor had betrayed them, trapped her kindred within their dreams, spreading through the Gods’ veins like a poison, in a way that even the Cold Ones wished they could have. She did not know if they could trust another Greenseer after this, should they survive this, even.
Leaf had been born as the last of her waning people. She had walked the world of man, learning it, preparing for the last battle. If Death were to come for her kindred, then she would face it herself, even if she had to deal with the company of monsters and men.
She did not know how long they spent in silence and only marvelled as the very world warped around them, as if wishing to make their way far faster than it should have been possible, while somehow still hiding from the Cold Ones’ sight.
“Terrifying, aren’t they?” the human boy spoke up next to her, bringing her out of her contemplations.
She turned towards him, and the young Direwolf that walked calmly alongside him. Leaf would have long dismissed him, were it not for her travels in the world of man. His line was that of the Kings of Winter, though they wore no crown anymore, yet they were kings, nonetheless. Those who rode the drakes had little to no influence over them, yet seemed so sure of their dominion. Leaf found it to be strange, but then again, she had learned that men were rarely rational creatures.
As for the boy, he was their heir to their kingdom, a remnant of the people who had fought in the war for Dawn all those years ago. Stolen, his land might be, his blood now ruled it, as her kin slowly withered into obscurity, hiding away in her sworn enemy’s numbers, instead of fulfilling their duties to the Gods, a sad fate indeed.
She would have dismissed him utterly were it not for the small mark in his song, a subtle melody of a blade of ice forged to destroy the Cold Ones. It was a noble song, filled with sacrifice. She could almost hear the song that she had dreamt of so long ago, of a sword in the darkness, of a shield protecting the realm of the living, of an ever-watchful eye, ready to act, to protect at any moment.
He was far more interesting than any man she had met during her journeys, and were it not for his far more terrifying companions and the grave situation that they were in, she would have taken the time to study him.
For now, a conversation would do, even if she disliked speaking in Man’s Tongue, “They are, the Stranger more so.”
“Truer words have never been said,” the man answered while snorting, “Believe it or not, he’s even scarier when he starts talking. The man managed to convince me to take him into my family’s crypts, something that likely no man with Stark Blood has ever done before him.”
Leaf wished to shake her head. Magic might have been weakening, with history becoming nought more than myth and story, but for the King of Winter to be so blind as to who he was travelling with showed how much men had grown blind and deaf to the song of the world.
And to think that the boy had let him walk so close to his ancestors' resting place. There were a few places that held protections powerful enough to halt Leaf’s dreams, and each one was more sacred and more dangerous than the last. The Lands of Always Winter were an example of this, and Winterfell’s crypts happen to be one of them.
How could they not have noticed Stranger’s nature walking among them? How could they mistake him for a man, for he was not? How could they not shiver in fear with every step he took? Leaf did not know, for every breath he took near him was harder than the last. The being who spoke her kin’s tongue as easily as he breathed, while countless Greenseers before him had failed miserably.
The woman was not better. Leaf had seen her magic briefly, and she had commanded the Weirwood in ways that merited worry and wariness. She had used the very blood of the Gods to find their target, and that alone made her a threat greater than most men, even when magic roamed the lands freely. Yet, she could see traces of mankind in the woman’s existence, mixtures with nature that were eerily similar to Leaf’s kin, but that was overwhelmed by the sea of blood that seemed to swallow everything like an endless tide.
Had she thought that there had been even a spark of hope of success, Leaf would have killed her. Alas, she only knew that devastation could only follow, one that would spread to the rest of her kindred. And so, she halted her every instinct to protect the forest, one ingrained in her people, and she refrained from asking too many questions in fear of their retribution.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the boy asked another question, “Who is this raven that we are hunting? I confess that I understood very little from your conversation near the cave.”
“And yet you chose to come,” Leaf stated.
“Aye. Winter is coming.”
Those dreaded words reminded her of the man before her, and she couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Finally, she answered the question, “The Raven is a remnant of a time once promised, now fading. Bloodraven, he was once called, Kinslayer they often called him, a man with the blood of the dragons, and a thousand eyes and one.”
The young man spat out a curse at that, and she chose to change the subject, “It is rare for Direwolves to bind themselves to men.”
As if it had heard her intent, the creature turned towards her in interest, alongside its new master. The boy released an embarrassed chuckle, his former anger not gone, but hidden away, “I don’t know how it happened. I woke up lost, and he found me. I still haven’t even given him a name.”
Leaf closed her eyes and listened to his song and couldn’t help but smile at what she had heard, “His name is Ghost. A name once promised, now lost in the sea of possibilities, for blood and bond can cross even Time.”
The young wolf released a pleased bark, its crimson eyes almost glowing in delight, though its master seemed just as confused. He shook his head, muttering something about cryptic words, but agreed, “Ghost… He does move rather silently. It fits quite well, and he does seem to like it. Ghost it is.”
She felt a gaze on her, one that made her shiver in fright. Without even looking, she knew that it was the Stranger. She had done her best not to interact with him much, but it seemed that her conversation with the boy, short as it might have been, had taken his attention.
And so, she turned forward and continued walking to the confusion of her younger companion.
Leaf knew that the Stranger and the Blood Witch had come for answers; then again, men lived and perished with most of their greatest questions unanswered. Even her kin were not spared, for they often wished to know why the Gods had abandoned them, why so few of them were born, and why the men were allowed to steal their land.
Leaf did not know these answers and dreaded them, just as she dreaded the answers to the Stranger’s questions. There was never a limit to how much she could peer into the past, but there were places and times that were too dangerous to even attempt, places where the past could affect the future still. Hardhome was one of them, a constant war of grief, misery, and death, and so were the days before their forests grew from the earth. There was a reason why her people chose to dream of the peace that followed, despite most being born after the First Men cut down the first trees.
Leaf was so lost in their thoughts that she hadn't noticed the boy turn to the Stranger and ask, “Do you follow any gods, Potter?”
She stiffened at the question, a very dangerous one to ask a being such as the Stranger.
The Stranger hummed, “I can’t say that I ever have. Perhaps, in another life, I would have been a godly man, but I believe that it wouldn’t have changed much about who I am today.”
“How so?” the boy continued.
“When you have seen what I have seen or done what I have done, the veneer of godhood loses much of its shine, and you see the true creatures behind it. People often call other monsters through their deed or their thoughts and ideas, but I have found that people grow more inhuman with power. Without a chain, some obstacle to overcome, or a higher duty to perform, most find that consequences matter very little when they can outlive them, when they are eternal. Inevitably, even the greatest man would turn into a monster, a living demon.”
“I cannot believe that!” Cregan protested.
“There were creatures in my home who were all but immortal. They were not born with a purpose, just the ability to use the blood of others to empower themselves, to create thralls and grow in power. They were faster than any man, could revive themselves from the greatest wounds, and had grown to have entire legions under their command. These people, over thousands of years, brought down empires and kingdoms, precipitated wars that lasted for decades, if not centuries. They were monsters in the human definition of the word. What makes you think that gods would be any different? They can make mistakes and often have designs of their own. Pray for your own sake, Cregan Stark, for your peace of mind, but do not expect the gods to answer. Faith can give you strength, but in the end, you stand alone with your choices. No god will bear them for you.”
That answer did not appease the young man, and a part of Leaf wished dearly to interfere, but the reminder of the Stranger’s song stopped her from voicing her protests. For her people were ancient, and they had not turned into monsters, despite their grief and justified anger towards mankind. Yet, she could not fully deny the truth of this statement. She had seen it in the Greenseer in their cave, how little of the man he once was, remained, as he lost himself in his Dreams, not that he dreamt much as of late. The possibility of mankind being as long-lived as her kind was quite the frightening prospect.
And yet, she remained silent, even as Cregan tried to argue, only to be interrupted completely as the Stranger spoke up, “We’re here.”
Leaf stiffened as she took in the world around her and froze as she noticed that they stood near the edge of a great cliff. The rocks were dark, layered with dark marks and the sign of erosion. Even the sea around them felt too still, as if it had frozen over, something that made her stiffen. She could faintly hear a song of sorrow, of fear, of death, but not the frozen horror of the Cold Ones. It was a sinister place indeed, one that dearly wished to leave. Yet, she would stomach it for the sake of her kindred, to save them from their endless dream.
The sorcerer slowly turned towards a section of the cliff where the rock jutted out in a sharp vertical line. It was too smooth, and she could barely parse its subtle song compared to the misery that spread across this place. It was her people's work; she could recognise it anywhere.
And so, she opened her mouth and released a song, one asking for the very earth to let them through. Just as it always had for Those Who Sing the Song of the Earth, the stone moved, revealing a doorway that they could walk in.
The young Stark gave her an impressed look, and even the Stranger and the Blood Witch gave her thankful nods. They walked in front in silence, with Leaf having used a small knife of Dragonglass that lit up the dark cave.
She had never ventured to this place before, in her Dreams or in the physical realm. She couldn’t help but marvel at the drawings around the caves with her ancestors, and yet that didn’t change the fact that she felt unnerved.
Leaf had visited a few of the remnants of her kin, and there was a warmth, a song that showed their purpose, in case anyone would find it. It was a manner of communication that could occur thousands of years apart, something that she marvelled at, even if Dreams were far more effective.
They found themselves near a very large cave, and Leaf gasped as she recognised what she saw. It was an egg, one that was far larger than she had ever seen before. She knew of it, of course, but she had never seen one with her own eyes. An egg of the Old Ones, a race that her ancestors treated with, protecting their young in exchange for their aid. It was a noble burden, one that had turned the tides against the Cold Ones.
And yet as she approached, she couldn’t help but feel like the egg felt dead. There was no searing heat, no sea of molten stone, just an unsettling coldness.
She turned towards her companions and gasped as she followed the Stranger’s gaze. It was the remains of a Weirwood tree, one that looked almost burned away.
The Stranger spoke up calmly, yet that did not detract from the terror that these words evoked in her: “This is a trap.”
As if the world had been waiting for his words, the cave shook, and Leaf despaired as she saw the Old Ones’ egg crumble away into dust. Around them, hundreds of ravens appeared, cawing as they flew around, akin to bats. The walls themselves shifted, with giant scales starting to appear on their surface, and finally, giant eyes opened, their glow illuminating the cave far beyond Leaf’s Weirwood torch. She could move in sheer fright as the beast’s giant maw opened and everything was swallowed by dark, blue flames.
AN: That was an especially hard chapter to write, especially given that I sort of screwed up the last one. Sorry about that, by the way. I don’t have a big excuse. I just didn’t plan things out properly and got overwhelmed by a lot of things happening in my private life. Anyway, I hope that this one makes up for it a bit.
It was interesting writing Leaf and sort of showing how terrifying the Potters are for someone who could feel this kind of thing. I don’t think I’ve done a non-human POV chapter in this story, so that was fun. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Garri Sarkisov
Ghost is here.
athass_prkr
Most of these happened in front of Rhaena and Helaena, who just knew how bullshit Harry could be. It's sort of an 'In the Know' title, I guess, where only people who are strong enough in magic can hear it, or Harry's 'companions', who learned that asking questions will only make things worse. At least, that's how I meant to write it. Of course, titles do actually have meaning, something that will be explored in the next couple of chapters.
Joshua
So my question is why no one ever seems to comment or try to ask or look into why different beings keep calling him “Stranger” or “Lord of Time and Space” especially in a society where titles are so important.
