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KoW: Chapter 55
🕑 Added 2025-06-10 09:36:36 +0000 UTCRobb Stark
Now that the noise had faded and the memories no longer fought for control, Robb could think clearly—clearly enough to understand what had really happened.
The mindscape he had fought Thorns in hadn’t been a mere illusion. It was artificial, yes, but also real in its own way—shaped from the essence of a corrupted heart tree. That tree had been the foundation. The ritual required both of them—Robb and Thorns—to be encased in its sap, linking their minds together through the tree’s Force-touched nature. The tree acted as a conduit, a bridge.
The goal, at least for Robb, had been to survive the process, outlast Thorns, and harvest his memories as he wished to devour his. And he had. But Thorns hadn’t died without leaving a mark.
In his final act, Thorns gave up what remained of his life to forge a connection between his heart tree and the wider Weirwood Network. On its own, that wouldn't have been dangerous. The network had always existed across Westeros, even before the days of the Long Night, so it had no particular danger to the inhabitants in its “territory”.
The problem was the mindscape hadn’t collapsed. It still existed, and now it was tied to the network.
That meant the barrier between the dead and the living had been disturbed.
In Westeros, most people die within reach of the Weirwoods. And while few ever noticed, that made a difference. Those who were even slightly sensitive to the Force—or who prayed to the Old Gods—had a chance of lingering after death, becoming echoes or remnants, provided they held onto life enough. Not ghosts, exactly, but not gone either.
There had once been people who helped with that. The Children of the Forest, and later the Green Men, had ways of guiding the dead onward—keeping the network clean, in a sense.
But they were gone now.
After death their spirit remain, and as people who die and wish to remain often do so out of malicious intent, those echoes of men long dead were not exactly peaceful.
That was exactly why Bloodraven suffered, as his connection to the network, even if somewhat secured, brought their malice forth, attacking his psyche every time he attempted to exert his power.
But this space lacked even the bare protections offered to the Three Eyed Raven, so Robb was faced with the full brunt of their strength.
It was fortunate then, that he was not the Brynden Rivers.
‘Is this how it is done?’
As a Stark, northman, believer of the old gods, and one with the skills of a great jedi master with the knowledge and expertise of what one would call an ancient shaman of the children of the forest. Establishing a bond with the Weirwood Network was very much an easy thing to do.
And through this bond, one might resonate their own presence in the force with that of the many weirwood trees connected around the continent, only limited by their strength of will and resolve.
It is with that strength, that almost uncontrolled power, that Robb’s cracking barrier of light lit up even further, and suddenly morphed from a physical barrier meant to shield, into a shockwave of white flames meant to purify.
He could feel the immense weight of the network weighing on him, the cost of its support being borne through his will. And Robb knew then and there that he would not be able to maintain his renewed strength long enough for this space to collapse and free him.
As the white flames washed over the malevolent spirits, causing them to scream and shriek in abject pain, Robb realized that he must think of another way.
And it can only be due to the will of the force, that his solution showed itself to him.
Amidst the evil, petty, and selfish echoes of people too unruly and greedy to die in peace, were a few exceptions donning bone armor, leaf robes, and antler ears, who walked willingly into the white fire, finally free to let themselves go from their torment.
Amongst them was a familiar face, the first statue of bark and root he met on the island, the man who wished to escape from Thorns’ grasp and failed to do so.
Those men, those who held no evil and chaos in their hearts, walked through the purifying flame without any harm coming to them, and they bewilderingly found themselves in front of Robb untouched.
“It seems that Thorns’ failures are up to me to fix, after all.” He said. “I have a favor to ask, brave men, should you hold the line for me, I will send you to be one with the force, and grant you the peace that you seek.”
After a brief silence, a man walked forward, ironically it was the same one he knew.
“What about the others?” He asked, even as he faced eternal damnation, he worried of his comrades. “Those who are still among the living?”
Robb let out a small hum. “They shall know peace too, for I can purify their sap hearts as I do the ghost writhing before you.”
“Do you promise?”
“I do.”
An expression of determination painted the brave man’s face, and he turned around, lifting his bone mace to the sky, and let out a triumphant scream to all who could hear it.
“Salvation. Is. Here!” His screams were echoed by his companions, who briskly turned around and held their weapons, waiting for the enemies to come.
Robb raised a hand, and the flickering field of fire responded, folding inward into the gathered spirits at his side. The flames no longer burned the malevolent echoes of the dead, but they burned still, over the spiritual forms of the green men at his side.
The dark spirits saw their freedom, and surged toward them with greedy wails.
Robb held his lightsaber upright, eyes closed, breath measured. He gathered the Force in steady waves, channeling it through himself. The time bought by the green men will allow him to carry out a two part ritual, one that will shatter this artificial space before he gets overrun.
And so, in the quiet of his mind, he reached out.
Far beyond this corrupted place, past trees and rivers and stone, he touched a familiar presence, faint but enduring. Hidden beneath protections and snow, tucked away in the roots of a living heart tree north of the Wall.
“I need your help.” He sent out, sensing the trepidation of Bloodraven through the network. Clearly, he had sensed what is happening here. “Use what strength you can to strike at this space from outside.”
He felt no words in return, but he did feel a sense of acceptance.
Back in the mindscape, the battle had begun in earnest. The Green Men fought with quiet determination, but they were outnumbered many times over. When one fell, Robb took the lingering light from their form and passed it to the next, empowering them with their inner strength.
A steady rhythm took shape: one fell, another was strengthened, and they fought even harder.
He joined them soon after, his lightsaber humming with soft intensity, its glow clean and precise.
He zig zagged through the remnants with unfathomable speed, this time not only empowered by his own strength in the force, but also by that of the countless weirwoods he felt connected to.
But the numbers wore them down, they was simply too many of them.
Until, at last, the last of the Green Men was struck down.
In his place, a giant orb of pale light hovered in the air. It was the culmination of the green men’s resolve and willingness to sacrifice, he felt great amounts of trepidation as he gazed upon it. It felt like betrayal, to use such strength of will only to save himself.
Robb stepped toward it.
He reached out, took it in his hand, and pressed it gently into the ground beneath his feet.
The world cracked.
