"For Euron?" Willas looked at Lynd in confusion. "Explain in more detail."
Lynd replied in a low voice, "If the White Walkers can cross the sea, then what's the point of the Wall?"
"Impossible," Willas immediately countered. "The White Walkers cannot cross the sea. An ancient curse prevents them from entering the ocean, just as they are repelled by dragonglass."
"But what if someone helps them cross?" Lynd then told Willas everything—about Euron, and the Ironborn found turned into wights in the ruins of Valyria.
The commander's deputy listened with rapt attention. When Lynd began describing the events in the ruins, he even held his breath, afraid that the sound of it might interrupt the story.
"Euron…" Willas muttered to himself after Lynd finished, then fell silent in thought.
Lynd didn't disturb him. He simply stood before the ice pillar, waiting for a response.
After quite a while, Willas finally came back to himself and said, "The White Walkers can't cross the sea—this is a curse from ancient times, one that cannot be broken. But... there is a way to temporarily bypass it."
"What way?" the commander's deputy blurted out before Lynd could even speak.
Willas didn't blame him for interrupting and continued, "Only when the White Walkers are near a God-Hater can the curse be temporarily suppressed, allowing them to cross the sea by ship."
"God-Hater?" Lynd hesitated. "That doesn't sound too difficult to find. Many of the mages under my command don't worship any gods, and there are quite a few Maesters in the Citadel who don't believe in them either."
"No, you misunderstand. I'm not talking about unbelievers—I'm talking about God-Haters," Willas corrected him. "Unbelievers might not worship the gods, but they still hold a certain reverence or fear toward them. A God-Hater, on the other hand, is something entirely different. A God-Hater despises all deities—good, evil, true, false—any and all beings tied to divinity. They don't just disbelieve; they loathe the very concept. Their only purpose in life is to destroy all gods."
"There are people like that?" Lynd was clearly surprised. He'd read more books than most ever would, yet he had never come across any mention of such a person.
Willas went on, "Despite their hatred for the divine, a God-Hater's body is paradoxically the perfect vessel for divine power. Any religious rite can infuse them with a god's energy, and they hear the whispers of the gods constantly. Can you imagine it? Day after day, month after month, year after year—even a lifetime—with voices you hate more than anything else whispering in your ear. Anyone would go mad."
Now Lynd understood why Euron had lost his mind. It was clear his soul had been shattered by that torment.
"But you don't need to worry about the White Walkers using a God-Hater to cross the sea," Willas added. "The Long Night hasn't arrived yet. The deadly cold hasn't spread southward, and the Wall's power hasn't faded. Even if the White Walkers did manage to reach the southern lands by sea, their strength would quickly vanish. They'd be weaker than an ordinary man."
Lynd's expression hardened. "Regardless, I need to find Euron and stop him—fast."
Though he had already made locating Euron his top priority, he still had no idea where the man might be.
"I may know where Euron is," Willas said, as if reading Lynd's thoughts. "You mentioned he stole the corpse of an ancient survivor from the Sealord's Palace, destroyed the natural nodes at Greywater and Gods Eye Lake, and took the altar that once held the Dragon Horn from the ruins of Valyria. There's only one reason he'd do all that—to replicate the sacrificial ritual once performed by an ancient race, before they became White Walkers."
Lynd frowned in confusion and asked Willas to explain.
Willas took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. "With the power of the White Walkers, that ancient corpse could likely be awakened. Euron may have obtained the detailed sacrificial rites used to offer up the ancient gods. The natural nodes at Greywater and Gods Eye Lake were tied to the covenant between the gods and the natural world. The altar from Valyria was probably one of the original sites where those sacrifices were once performed. That's why I say he's trying to complete the same god-sacrifice as that long-lost race. All he lacks now is a suitable site—and as far as I know, there's only one place in the world where such a sacrifice can still be completed: Stygai, the City of Night at the far eastern edge of the world. That's where the ancient race performed their ritual and were cursed by the gods."
"Stygai?" Lynd echoed, visibly hesitating. He had heard that name before—vaguely. Maester Marwyn had once mentioned it in passing while speaking of Asshai, saying there was a city even darker and more dreadful than Asshai itself. That city was Stygai.
"What effect would Euron's sacrifice have on the White Walkers?" Lynd asked.
"None," Willas answered, unexpectedly. But then he added, "What it would do is bring forth a god of madness into the world. And we wouldn't have to wait for the Long Night—this world could be destroyed long before that ever comes."
Lynd was stunned. The commander's deputy looked even worse, leaning against the icy wall for support, eyes wide with shock, as if he had just overheard a secret he never should have known.
"If I'm right, Euron intends to sacrifice himself—not to a single god, but to every god that has ever existed." Willas elaborated further. "Think about it: a God-Hater, whose body is the perfect vessel for divine power, offering himself in sacrifice to all gods. The result would be every deity pouring their power into him. If he's lucky enough to survive that power without being instantly annihilated, he'll ascend—something that has never happened before—into a god above gods, a mad god. And then, he'll destroy the gods and everything in this world."
"Madman! He's a madman!" the commander's deputy was left speechless, utterly shaken by Willas's words.
Lynd, however, had regained his composure. "Are gods really so easy to kill?"
"Sometimes gods are great, capable of commanding all forces, performing miracles that defy nature. But sometimes... they are fragile. A mere breath could scatter them like smoke," Willas said, revealing a hidden truth. Then he turned solemn. "Lynd, you must stop Euron. His ritual is unlikely to succeed—but not impossible. We cannot allow even the slimmest chance."
"I understand," Lynd nodded. He didn't linger and turned to leave the ice cave.
The commander's deputy made to follow him, but Willas called him back, keeping him inside.
Lynd glanced over his shoulder and felt a surge of magical energy ripple through the cave. It was clear that Willas was wiping part of the man's memory, likely to prevent the sensitive information from spreading and causing panic.
...
After leaving the ice cave, Lynd didn't waste a moment. He mounted the lava dragon and flew south from the Wall.
It took nearly the entire night, but by the time the first rays of sunlight touched the land, Lynd had returned to Castle Summerhall.
Early that morning, Jon and the others were already waiting in the council chamber. As soon as they saw Lynd return, they rushed to report a major development: the day before, Robb Stark, Renly Baratheon, and Stannis Baratheon had each declared themselves king.
To Jon and the rest, this was a monumental shift. It meant that the war could no longer be resolved peacefully. What had begun as a struggle among various lords for the Iron Throne had now escalated into a four-way war of kings. None of them would recognize the legitimacy of the others—each one would try to eliminate the rest.
For example, Stannis, who had previously focused his efforts solely on the Iron Throne, immediately denounced Robb Stark, the self-proclaimed King in the North, as a traitor, and called Renly a usurper. Joffrey, meanwhile, had become a secondary concern. From Stannis's movements, it was clear that his attention was shifting toward confronting Renly.
Renly, in turn, refused to recognize the North's independence. He didn't attack Robb Stark directly, but instead accused Stannis of conspiring with Eddard Stark to usurp the throne. His "evidence" was Eddard Stark's public confession before his execution, which Renly claimed amounted to an admission of collusion. He demanded that Stannis come to Storm's End, bow before the rightful heir of House Baratheon, and repent his crimes—in other words, humiliate him in every possible way.
The situation was spiraling into chaos. Jon and the others didn't know what to do—whether to issue a formal condemnation of these royal claims, or to ignore it entirely and stay focused on their own work. That's why they had gathered early at the castle, waiting for Lynd's return to settle the matter.
"Don't bother with them," Lynd said dismissively, clearly unfazed by what others would consider a major political crisis. He shared with Jon and the rest the collaborative plans he had discussed with the Night's Watch at the Wall and instructed them to immediately organize a team to send north.
He also informed his trusted subordinates that he would be leaving for a while, and that the governance of the territory would fall to them in his absence. If any issues arose that they couldn't handle, they were to send a letter to the Kingdom of Lorne and defer to Nymeria for the final decision.
Jon and the others didn't understand why Lynd was suddenly leaving Summerhall for an extended period, but they didn't ask. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
Thanks to the structure now in place at Summerhall, even if Lynd were to be gone for half a year or more, the system would continue to function just fine.
Jon suddenly remembered something and asked, "My lord, didn't you promise to attend Lord Renly and Lady Margaery's wedding? If you leave now…"
"No. It's not the right time for me to go to Storm's End. If I went, it would be seen as endorsing Renly's claim to the throne." Lynd shook his head. "I can't go, but the proper courtesies still need to be observed. After all, I am nominally a vassal of Highgarden. Choose someone to attend in my place. As for the wedding gift—give them the Valyrian steel jewelry set I prepared earlier."
"Yes, my lord," Jon replied.
Just as Lynd was about to give further instructions about how to handle certain matters in his absence, the officer in charge of ravens and hawks stepped quietly into the council chamber doorway and said in a low voice, "My lord, there's a letter from King's Landing."
"A letter from King's Landing?" Lynd paused, then gestured for the letter to be brought over. With a smirk, he added, "Don't tell me it's a reprimand for taking Lord Eddard's body yesterday."
Mus chuckled as well. "Knowing Queen Cersei and King Joffrey's minds, it just might be."
In truth, ever since Cersei had publicly broken off the betrothal with Highgarden, they had stopped taking her seriously. And after Joffrey I had Lord Eddard executed—right on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor after a public confession, no less—they'd more or less lumped him in with the ranks of mad or incompetent kings.
Lynd took the letter and skimmed through it, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
"Something happen?" Jon asked curiously.
Lynd handed him the letter. Jon read through it quickly, then said, "They want to send Princess Myrcella to live at Summerhall?"
The others looked up, equally taken aback.
Bert, ever perceptive, picked up on the strangeness of it right away. "Until now, they never once considered sending Princess Myrcella to Summerhall to meet Prince Augustus. And suddenly they're doing it now? Looks like all these new kings have really shaken them."
Everyone laughed.
Mus, however, frowned slightly. "Do you really think Queen Cersei and Joffrey I could come up with something like this?"
Everyone shook their heads almost in unison.
"It must be Tyrion's idea," Lynd said calmly. "Our people in the Westerlands reported that Lord Tywin has called Tyrion back to King's Landing to act as Hand in his place. He hasn't officially taken the post yet, but he's already giving advice. Making a spectacle of sending Myrcella to Summerhall reminds everyone that we're still allied with the Iron Throne—so when others move against King's Landing, they'll hesitate. That little imp is clever, no doubt about it."
"What should we do, my lord?" Jon asked.
"We in Summerhall still recognize King Robert's betrothal agreement. So Princess Myrcella is, in name, my daughter-in-law," Lynd said, glancing around the room. "But she can't stay at Summerhall Castle. I'll take her to the Kingdom of Lorne to stay with Nymeria. Once she's there, she'll have nothing more to do with Westeros."
"That's a smart way to handle it," Bert nodded. "Once you're gone, we should make sure word gets out that Princess Myrcella is settling in Lorne. It won't completely cut our ties to the Iron Throne, but at least it'll stop them from trying to use her for something they shouldn't."
Lynd nodded in agreement with Bert's plan, then instructed Jon to go and personally receive Princess Myrcella on his behalf.