Game of Thrones:Dawn of Ice and Fire.

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Chapter Eight: A New Seed of Hope

The ancient cavern beneath the earth was silent, its once-thrumming energy now faded into a somber stillness. The roots that once pulsed with vibrant life hung limp and quiet. The heart tree stood motionless, its pale bark streaked with crimson, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

Leaf knelt on the cold stone floor, her golden-green skin gleaming faintly in the dim light. Her sharp, leaf-shaped ears twitched as she listened to the slow creak of roots shifting. The pungent scent of decay lingered in the air.

The corpse of the last greenseer, Brynden Rivers—known to men as the Three-Eyed Crow—slumped against the twisted throne of roots. His pale flesh, once merged seamlessly with the heart of the tree, had begun to rot.

Leaf's amber eyes darkened with grief.

For centuries, they had pinned their hopes on him. He had seen the threads of fate, woven together across time and space, guiding them toward survival against the coming darkness. But now he was gone, his body lifeless and his consciousness severed from the world.

What now?

She rose to her feet, her small frame deceptively strong, and paced around the cavern, her thoughts racing.

Could they find another greenseer? Someone with the strength to be wedded to the heart tree, to carry the ancient knowledge and wield it against the night?

She shook her head. No. There wasn't time. The darkness was already stirring, creeping through the frozen lands beyond the Wall. The winds carried whispers of death, and the dead themselves walked.

There was no other choice.

Leaf took a trembling breath, steeling herself. She approached the ancient roots, their gnarled forms twisting like the fingers of a dying giant.

I swore I would never do this again.

Long ago, she had sat upon that throne of roots, merging her essence with the heart tree to guide her people. But the toll had been immense, draining her spirit until she had vowed never to connect with the tree again.

Yet desperation left no room for promises.

The roots stirred as if sensing her resolve. They twisted and coiled, forming a throne at the base of the tree. Leaf hesitated for only a moment before climbing onto it, her slender limbs folding gracefully as she settled into place.

The roots rose around her, wrapping around her arms and legs, merging with her flesh. A faint hum resonated through the cavern as the ancient power of the tree awoke once more.

Leaf closed her eyes, her consciousness slipping into the vast network of roots and branches that connected all weirwoods across the land.

She searched, her essence racing through the web of life until she found him—the boy who had touched the heart tree and returned from the brink of ruin.

Jon Snow.

He lay in his bed at Winterfell, his small body curled beneath thick furs. But his sleep was restless, his face contorted in anguish. Leaf's ethereal form hovered above him, watching as shadows twisted and writhed in his dreams.

Jon flinched, his breath ragged. The nightmare held him captive, showing him the same terrible visions over and over—his dead siblings, Aegon and Rhaenys, their lifeless bodies drenched in blood. His mother's desperate face, fading into darkness.

Leaf's heart ached for the boy.

He is so young, yet he carries the weight of so much pain.

She descended into his dream, the shadows recoiling from her presence. With a gentle wave of her hand, she banished the nightmare, scattering the dark tendrils into nothingness.

Jon's breathing steadied, though his expression remained troubled.

Leaf knelt beside him, her voice soft as the rustling leaves of the godswood. "You are strong, little one," she whispered. "Stronger than you know."

Jon's dream-self turned toward her, his grey eyes wide with wonder. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice small but steady.

"I am a friend," Leaf said gently. "I came to take away the shadows that haunt you."

He frowned. "Why would you help me?"

"Because the darkness is coming, Jon Snow," she said solemnly. "A darkness that will swallow the world if we are not ready. But you are special. You are meant to face it. And I will help you."

Jon's expression hardened with determination beyond his years. "I won't be afraid."

Leaf smiled faintly. "I know. But even the bravest need help sometimes."

She placed her hand on his brow, a warmth spreading through him like the light of the rising sun. "Sleep now, little wolf," she whispered. "Rest without fear."

Jon's eyes fluttered closed, his breathing slow and even. For the first time in nights, his sleep was peaceful.

Leaf lingered for a moment, her heart filled with a strange pride. This boy, born of ice and fire, carried a strength that even he did not fully understand.

As she withdrew from his dream, her vow echoed through the roots and branches of the weirwoods:

I will help you, Jon Snow. I will make sure you are ready to face what is coming.

The ancient tree hummed softly as Leaf's consciousness returned to the cavern. She opened her eyes, her body still entwined with the roots.

The corpse of Brynden Rivers lay unmoving, but hope flickered anew in Leaf's heart.

Their last greenseer might be gone, but a new seed had been planted. And Jon Snow, with her guidance, would grow strong enough to weather the coming storm.