"Exactly the same?"
Lynn shot to his feet, a sharp glint in his eyes.
"We move."
Without a second of hesitation, Lynn issued the command.
He left fifty men to guard the camp and supplies.
Taking the remaining one hundred of his most elite Northern warriors, Lynn personally led them through the night, following Jason toward the mysterious river valley.
This way, if he didn't return, the remaining men could retreat to Castle Black and call for reinforcements.
Under the cover of night, the Haunted Forest was even more sinister than during the day.
Twisted tree shadows swayed in the wind and snow, like demons clawing at the air.
The cold wind moaned as it passed through the trees.
But not a single man in the column felt fear.
Following behind Lynn, the weapons in their hands and the torches they carried gave them boundless courage.
After passing through a dense forest of black pines and navigating around several treacherous cliffs, a long, narrow river valley, sandwiched between two towering mountain ranges, appeared before them.
Inside the valley, a frozen river wound its way forward, disappearing into the endless darkness.
The banks on either side of the river were covered in thick snow.
Scattered across the snow were dark shapes.
Lynn approached for a closer look, and his pupils constricted.
Bones.
Human bones.
Piles upon piles of human skeletal remains were discarded carelessly along the riverbanks.
Some bones still bore the marks of being gnawed on by wild beasts.
"This is..."
Torren sucked in a cold breath.
"Is this a slaughterhouse?"
"No," Lynn shook his head, his expression grave.
"This is a warning."
He pointed to the arrangement of the bones.
They were not scattered randomly but were deliberately arranged in strange, spiral patterns.
Lynn recognized that pattern from the descriptions in the original story.
It was the mark of the White Walkers.
"They... have been here."
Jason's voice trembled.
All the soldiers instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons, scanning the surrounding darkness with vigilance.
It felt as though countless ice-blue eyes might rush out from that endless dark at any moment.
"Press on."
Lynn's voice broke the suffocating silence.
There was no fear on his face.
Instead, there was a near-fanatical excitement.
The more dangerous and bizarre it was, the closer he was to the secret.
The column moved cautiously along the frozen riverbed, heading deeper into the valley.
Every step crunched on the bones that had slumbered there for who knows how many years, emitting a sickening snap-crack sound.
After walking for over an hour.
They reached the end of the valley.
Before them rose a massive cliff face, sheer as if cut by a knife.
At the base of the cliff lay a naturally formed cavern.
Found it.
The place marked on the human-skin map.
Standing at the entrance of the cave was a gigantic, black rock, jutting upward like a fang.
The rock was pitch black, its surface smooth as a mirror.
It was dragonglass.
A... colossal piece of dragonglass!
"Gods..."
Everyone was stunned by the unimaginable sight.
They had never seen such a huge piece of obsidian.
In this frozen world of white, the black monolith stood out abruptly, eerily.
Carved prominently onto the giant dragonglass rock was a blood-red eye symbol.
The symbol looked as if it had been poured from fresh blood.
Under the torchlight, it flickered with a demonic glow.
Beside the dragonglass, a figure on horseback caught everyone's attention.
He, too, was clad in black.
Benjen Stark!
What is he doing here?
Had Benjen already become the half-human, half-wight existence from the show?
Turned for unknown reasons, saved by the Children of the Forest, retaining his human emotions but fighting for the living?
Did Benjen fall here?
Better be careful!
Lynn's hand unconsciously drifted to the hilt of Longclaw.
Previously, Benjen had led his ranger squad northeast toward the Frostfangs.
Their goal was to investigate rumors of Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, gathering the tribes.
But now he appeared here, with his squad nowhere to be seen. Lynn had to be cautious.
Lynn led his men toward Benjen.
Getting closer.
Benjen suddenly whipped his head around, noticing the movement behind him.
Upon seeing Lynn, he was visibly stunned.
"Lynn?"
Only when Lynn got close did he see that Benjen's body was covered in wounds. He had clearly been through a fierce battle.
But one thing was certain: he was not a wight.
"First Ranger, how did you end up here?"
Lynn voiced the question on his mind.
A bitter smile crossed Benjen's face.
"My squad was wiped out by Mance Rayder's men. I was the only one lucky enough to escape."
"I was heading back to Castle Black to report, but stumbled upon this place on my way back."
Benjen's words allowed Lynn's tense body to slowly relax. Lynn and his soldiers walked up to Benjen, gathering around the massive dragonglass monolith.
"Do you know what this is?"
Benjen's voice was filled with awe for the unknown.
"It looks like... an altar," Lynn said slowly, circling the dragonglass.
"An altar?"
"Exactly."
Lynn stared fixedly at the blood-red eye symbol.
"A sacrificial altar."
He could feel it—just looking at this dragonglass made him uneasy deep down.
Was this place dedicated to the Great Other?
Was this where those strange wildlings who worshiped the Cold Gods communicated with their "deity"?
Lynn ordered his men to take Benjen aside to treat his wounds, while he carefully searched the massive dragonglass rock.
Soon, he discovered a cleverly concealed indentation at the base of the altar.
The shape of the indentation was like a small niche.
The entrance to the niche was sealed by a black stone slab of the same material.
Carved on the slab were twisted, ancient runes.
The language of the First Men.
Though Lynn couldn't read them, he could guess.
They were likely warnings or curses.
"My Lord, look here!"
A guard pointed to the ground around the altar.
Scattered on the ground were dried bloodstains.
And some... fresh footprints.
The footprints were messy, extending into the snow in front of the altar before disappearing.
There were also human skeletons nearby, stripped clean of flesh.
"They were here not long ago."
Lynn frowned.
Those wildlings who worshiped the "Cold Gods" had been here.
They had performed some kind of ritual.
And then, where did they go?
An ominous feeling rose in Lynn's heart.
He hesitated no longer.
"Torren, Harvey!"
"Here!"
"Take a few men. Pry that stone slab open!"
"Yes, my Lord!"
Several strong guards immediately stepped forward.
Using their longswords and axes as levers, they jammed them into the cracks around the slab.
"One, two, three! Heave!"
With a shout from Torren, the guards pushed together.
The heavy stone slab emitted a teeth-grinding scrape.
Slowly, a gap was pried open.
A breath of air, colder and more ancient than the wind outside, rushed out from the crack.
Everyone instinctively took a step back.
Only Lynn stepped forward instead of back.
His eyes bored into the dark fissure.
As if trying to pierce through to the secrets inside.
"Push harder!"
The guards exerted force again.
Boom!
The slab was finally pried loose completely, crashing heavily to the side.
A pitch-black opening appeared before everyone.
Inside, there was dead silence.
As if it connected to another world entirely.
Lynn raised his torch and was the first to walk in.