Light the Way

CHAPTER 7. the whispering woods

ALINA

Darkness enveloped Alina as she found herself standing alone in the midst of a forest. The gnarled branches of the trees reached out like skeletal fingers, casting elongated shadows that danced with an otherworldly rhythm. The air felt heavy.

A distant, haunting howl echoed through the silence, the mournful sound sending shivers down her spine. As she strained to see through the murky shadows, a figure emerged from the darkness - a direwolf, its fur as black as the abyss, eyes gleaming with an unnatural glow. The wolf circled her, its movements a macabre dance, and with each step, the air grew colder.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. Alina found herself in a grand hall, adorned with the banners of House Stark and House Hightower entwined. A celebration was underway, but the air was thick with tension. Alina's eyes sought her family, and there, at the head of the hall, she saw her father and mother, their faces etched with worry.

In the centre of the hall stood Robb Stark, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her uneasy. The revelry around them faded into an eerie silence, leaving only the echo of her own heartbeat. As Robb approached, a sudden gust extinguished the candles, plunging the hall into darkness.

The direwolf's how echoed once more, closer now, as if it were right beside her. Alina's breath quickened, her pulse racing with an unspoken fear. The shadows seemed to writhe and contort, forming grotesque shapes that whispered of impending doom.

Just as the direwolf's eyes locked onto hers, a blinding light erupted from the weirwood tree. The figure of a hooded woman emerged, her eyes pools of infinite knowledge. The woman extended a hand, and Alina felt an irresistible pull, drawing her closer to the tree. The direwolf's how grew louder, echoing in her mind.

The hooded woman spoke, her voice a melodic echo. "The union of ice and fire brings forth the storm, and in its wake, a choice must be made."

Alina tried to speak, to ask for clarity, but her voice was swallowed by the howling wind.

And just like that it was gone.

Alina awoke with a start, the echo of the driewolf's howl still lingering in her ears. Sweat clung to her brow, and her chest heaved with remnants of fear. The woods, the grand hall, the mysterious woman - they all dissolved into the haze of a fading dream.

The bed felt foreign beneath her, the furs less familiar than the ones she used to wrap herself in at Hightower. She missed Oldtown, the gentle breezes that carried the fragrance of flowers, and the radiant warmth that lingered in every corner of her home.

The morning sun spilt through the narrow window, casting a golden glow over the room. As Alina rose, the weight of homesickness settled upon her. Determined to quell the yearning, she decided to seek solace in the small sept within the castle, a place Lady Catelyn had shown her years ago.

The sept, adorned with the symbol of the Faith of the Seven, felt quiet and sacred. Lady Catelyn had explained that it had been built for her by her lord husband as she followed the southern customs, the new gods they believed in. Alina knelt before the altar, her fingers tracing the contours of the seven-pointed star. The familiar prayers of her childhood spilled from her lips, a whisper of familiarity in the foreign North.

As she rose from her prayers, Alina found herself wandering through the corridors of Winterfell. The castle, with its stone walls and towering structures, seemed to hold secrets within its ancient stones. Her steps led her to the godswood, a place that had once scared her with its eerie faces carved into the heart of the trees.

The air in the godswood carried a different kind of stillness. The rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of the castle seemed muted here. Alina's gaze shifted to the faces carved into the trees, each one seemingly watching her with silent judgement. The stories she had heard about the old gods and their connection to the weirwoods lingered in her mind.