Before coming to the godswood, Galon had already speculated about the Three-Eyed Raven's intentions.
Perhaps the raven had foreseen a fragment of the future. Perhaps he had overheard one of Galon's secrets through the heart trees.
Galon had spent six months in Deepwood Motte; he certainly hadn't sat idle all that time.
But what he never expected was that the invitation had come because of his bloodline.
The King of the First Men?
A red-eyed greenseer?
Children of the Forest blood? A pact between the Glovers and the Old Gods?
Stories that existed only as vague family legends had suddenly appeared before him, alive and undeniable.
"King of the First Men…" He brushed a finger across his red eyes, repeating the ancient title spoken by the vision. His heart surged uncontrollably.
Only when the Three-Eyed Raven's phantom came to stand beside him did Galon steady himself and meet its gaze.
He knew this version of the raven was an illusion, just as the First Men and the Children earlier had been. The true Brynden Rivers still lay far beyond the Wall, fused with a heart tree deep within the Ghost Forest.
So Galon wasn't afraid of being attacked—this illusion had no substance.
And ever since he had broken free of the earlier trance so easily, Galon had a strange certainty: if he wished, he could probably shatter this illusion at any time.
He considered this only briefly before pushing his doubts to the front.
"Who are you, truly?" Galon asked calmly.
"What pact between the Glovers and the Old Gods were you talking about? And surely you didn't invite me here just to show me visions and make conversation?"
The Three-Eyed Raven let out a rasping laugh.
"Of course not."
With a tap of his staff, the illusions dissolved, revealing once more the green-lit void around them.
Galon focused. Their true discussion was finally beginning.
"I am a servant of the Old Gods, what the Children of the Forest call a greenseer," the raven said. "Names no longer hold meaning for me."
"And my purpose…"
A faint, unreadable smile curled at his lips.
"…was simply to confirm whether you are the one the prophecy spoke of."
"Prophecy?"
Galon stiffened. The raven's answer was nothing like what he expected.
"What prophecy?" he pressed.
"The prophecy of the savior." The raven's tone was slow, patient. "But it is too early to discuss it."
"Too early?" Galon frowned.
The Three-Eyed Raven gave a strange, soft laugh.
"You have awakened the greenseer blood of the Glovers, yes… but talent takes time to become power."
"As for your questions—once you truly become a greenseer, the answers will come."
Galon stared at him in shock.
Never in his life had he imagined he could become a greenseer. For a moment an image of Bran the Broken flitted across his mind.
Was he destined to replace Bran's role?
Would he also lose his legs and spend his life bound to a weirwood throne?
The thought unsettled him, and he asked again, unable to help himself, "A greenseer? How do you know I have that gift? Just because of my red eyes?"
The Three-Eyed Raven shook his head.
"If you did not have the gift, you would not have seen any of what happened earlier today."
"Only those with green sight receive answers from the Old Gods—"
He didn't finish.
The green plain trembled violently. Small cracks opened beneath their feet.
"What—"
Galon stepped back, seeing the fractures spreading. The illusion was collapsing.
The raven frowned. "It seems our time is up."
"Glover, if you want answers, then come beyond the Wall. These past months… I believe I can offer help with what you've been planning."
As his voice faded, his body dissolved into a black three-eyed raven. It swept its wings and soared away, leaving Galon deep in thought.
Space twisted again.
As the vision unraveled, Galon heard the raven's final whisper: "The prophecy draws near. The final song of ice and fire will soon begin…"
Darkness swallowed his sight.
When his vision returned, he was once again kneeling in the godswood.
"Why is it always like this?" Galon muttered, clutching his throbbing head. He staggered backward onto a moss-covered stone and sat, breathing hard.
Only after several breaths did he steady himself.
He raised his eyes to the face carved into the heart tree. His expression grew troubled.
'What is this savior prophecy? Is it the Prince That Was Promised? And what does any of it have to do with a pact between my family and the Old Gods?'
The meeting had answered none of his questions—only created more.
He felt as though unseen shadows closed in around him.
'A greenseer… and he wants me to go beyond the Wall?' Galon stood slowly and touched his eyes, thinking.
What could the Three-Eyed Raven possibly offer?
The Children of the Forest? The giants?
There were too few clues, and the more he thought, the more tangled everything became.
At last he drew a slow breath and forced the confusion aside.
'Whatever this prophecy is, and whatever game the raven is playing… it doesn't matter. My main goal is still the same: marry Sansa Stark.'
With his focus renewed, Galon bowed briefly to the heart tree, then turned and left.
Behind him, the carved face seemed to watch him go. A cold wind rustled the leaves, whispering like a silent answer.
The way out was quick.
In only moments Galon reached the iron gate again. The torches there brought a welcome relief.
Perhaps it was the strain of the vision, but once he stepped out of the godswood, exhaustion washed over him. His eyes felt heavy, sleep pressing down on him.
He didn't linger and returned down the passage to his temporary chamber.
He shut the door and collapsed onto the bed.
Sleep overtook him immediately.
He had no idea how much time passed before the three-eyed raven appeared again—this time in a dream.
It flew ahead of him, guiding him through the sky. They crossed mountain peaks, passed over the Wall, and entered the Land of Always Winter.
As Galon followed the raven through the swirling snow, a vision struck.
Enormous roots twisted out of the void and pierced through his body. At the same time two mighty dragons burst forth—one breathing fire, the other ice.
Fire and frost collided, consuming the roots impaling him.
Above it all the raven hovered, wings beating softly, watching as if witnessing something destined long ago.
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