Chapter 18

[Chapter Size: 2200 Words.]

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The egg, which had remained dormant for over three years, finally hatched!

However, the birth drained Cornelia's power completely. All the power she had accumulated was transferred to give life to the creature, forcing her to start over from scratch.

Fortunately, this time, her body didn't become as weak or cold as before. She seemed more normal, which could be considered the only good news amidst everything. Additionally, since the creature's birth, it had not absorbed Cornelia's power anymore, allowing her to start regaining it, albeit slowly. Of course, this recovery was far from reaching her previous levels, but it was a start.

As for the bird she brought into the world with such effort...

The most special thing so far was that Cornelia could see it clearly, whether it was day or night. No matter the light or darkness, its ice-blue feathers glowed sharply to her, something she didn't fully understand.

Moreover, it didn't seem to have anything magical about it. It had been almost a month since the bird's birth, and, observing it, Cornelia couldn't identify any special ability or characteristic other than its impressive beauty. Its ice-blue feathers were extraordinarily beautiful.

The bird was growing quickly. When it came out of the egg, it was small, barely the size of Robb's thumb, but now, in such a short time, it had already grown to the size of a parrot.

Still, nothing else stood out. It didn't spit fire, it didn't create ice, and it seemed to behave like any other common bird.

But Cornelia still had high expectations. She remembered the violent fire that accompanied the creature's birth and believed that something powerful could still awaken. Rickon, in turn, was the most excited about the bird. His sadness and anxiety disappeared instantly when he saw the little being. He seemed happier than ever, and for Cornelia, that was enough to make the birth worthwhile.

Later that same day, Robb and Rickon suggested that the bird should be named. Cornelia thought about it deeply. She remembered that both when she found the egg and when it finally hatched, there had been fire. That's how she decided:

"Phoenix!"

The way it emerged from the flames that night reminded her of the Phoenix, the mythical bird that rises from the ashes, a figure from the legends and myths of her past life. Of course, she knew that the traditional phoenix was associated with red and fiery flames, not ice-blue flames. The phoenix's feathers were described as a vivid red, while her "Phoenix" had cold, shimmering blue feathers. But that didn't matter.

Cornelia just wanted her "Phoenix" to be as powerful as the mythical bird she remembered. That was her hope for the creature.

As Cornelia watched the phoenix jumping on her bed, lost in thought, she was suddenly interrupted. She heard anxious howls from the giant wolves and noisy voices from outside.

Quickly, she got up and ran to the window. What she saw was not the cold fire she knew, but a real fire, red and violent flames consuming part of Winterfell.

There was a fire!

Without thinking twice, Cornelia spun on her heels and ran to the door, ready to help put out the fire. But the moment she crossed the threshold, she stopped abruptly.

After her father, Ned, went south, Catelyn decided to follow him to King's Landing. On the way back, Tyrion Lannister, the little imp, who had been returning from the Wall and was planning to go to King's Landing, was captured and detained. He was accused of attempting to assassinate Bran by pushing him from the tower.

Cornelia remembered that incident, but in the past two days, she had thought a lot about it. She didn't believe Tyrion was responsible. First of all, her intuition told her that the "imp" wouldn't do something like that. Besides, on the day of the incident, Tyrion helped her get up from the ground, and she didn't notice anything strange about his behavior.

But why?

Why did Catelyn suddenly go to King's Landing? Why was Tyrion captured? How did she conclude that he was involved in the attack on Bran?

That's when Cornelia remembered something crucial: a dagger. Catelyn took this dagger to King's Landing. If it wasn't something extremely important, her mother would never have left Bran unconscious behind and traveled alone to King's Landing.

Where did this dagger come from? And what did it have to do with the south?

These thoughts quickly crossed Cornelia's mind, but she didn't have time to organize them. Suddenly, something alarming crossed her mind. She grabbed the sword her father had given her and ran, full of urgency, toward Bran's room.

Bran and her mother were in danger!

Cornelia thought that, after the king and his men left, the danger had disappeared. Until then, she hadn't known who pushed Bran from the tower and didn't have concrete evidence. That's why she had decided to stay silent and perhaps accompany Catelyn to King's Landing to investigate.

But now, remembering how her mother didn't even go out to say goodbye to Ned before his departure, a doubt grew in her mind. How could Catelyn, who was so consumed by Bran's condition, leave him behind and travel so far?

Cornelia blamed herself for ignoring those details. The events of the past few days had shaken her so much that her mind seemed frozen.

Filled with anxiety, Cornelia ran as fast as she could. Bran's room wasn't far from hers, and in the blink of an eye, she could already see the door. With the sword tightly in her hands, she took a determined step and pushed the door open with force.

"Mother, be careful!"

As soon as she opened the door, Cornelia saw her mother standing near the window. Behind her, there was a man in a black cloak, holding a dagger, ready to attack. She shouted to warn Catelyn.

Catelyn, hearing her daughter's warning, turned around and, upon seeing the man, instinctively stepped back. The stranger also turned when he heard Cornelia's voice. He looked at her with disdain, as if he didn't care about her presence.

"You shouldn't be here. No one should be here. Let him go, he should have died a long time ago!" the man growled angrily, casting a furious glance at Bran. Then, he looked at Cornelia, sizing her up with a mixture of pity and disdain. "It's a shame... A beautiful girl. But, unfortunately, you'll have to die too."

"Don't even think about it!" Cornelia replied firmly, drawing the sword. She stepped forward, moving closer to the man.

The stranger sneered at her, drawing his dagger before launching an attack. To him, Cornelia was just a young girl, easy to defeat.

But Cornelia was quicker. With a swift move, she dodged the attack by leaning to the side. Then, she raised her sword and positioned it accurately, disarming the enemy's dagger with a precise strike. The man recoiled, surprised by the speed and skill of the girl.

Cornelia didn't give him time to react. After knocking the dagger away, she attacked the man's lower body with a series of quick and calculated moves. He tried to dodge, but was caught off guard when Cornelia spun around and kicked him hard, throwing him backward. The impact made him stumble and fall to the ground before he could stabilize himself again.

"Lia! Be careful!"

Catelyn's heartbeat almost stopped as she watched the scene. She wanted to help, but she was behind Cornelia, while the man was in front of her, ready to attack.

With few options left, Catelyn grabbed a vase that was nearby and threw it with force at the man.

The assassin, however, was clearly experienced in combat. With quick reflexes, he dodged the vase and then lunged at Cornelia, dagger in hand. His goal was not just to incapacitate; he wanted to finish the attack quickly, kill Bran, and disappear.

But Cornelia was faster. Her sword was already in motion, aimed directly at the man's heart. However, at the crucial moment, something unexpected happened: her hand involuntarily veered off course, as if guided by forces beyond her control. The strike that should have been fatal ended up hitting the man's arm. He roared in pain, but that was not enough to stop him. His dagger passed dangerously close to Cornelia's neck.

"Lia!"

Catelyn screamed, her heart tightening, thinking she would lose her daughter at that very moment. She tried to move forward, but it was then that something unexpected happened. Bran's direwolf, Summer, charged fiercely. In one swift motion, the wolf bit down hard on the man's head, throwing him to the ground.

The assassin's scream of pain echoed through the room. He tried to free himself, but Summer held his jaw firmly, immobilizing him completely.

"Clang!"

Cornelia's sword dropped to the floor. She stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the scene before her. The man's blood now stained the floor, and some droplets had splashed onto her dress. Unable to control herself, tears began to fall from her eyes.

She didn't want to cry. In fact, she wasn't feeling any particular emotion at that moment. It was as if her body was reacting on its own, with no control.

It was like the movement of the sword, something that simply escaped her will.

Cornelia knew she could have killed him. All she needed was to keep her hand steady. The man wouldn't have had another chance to strike. But in that critical moment, her mind went blank.

Suddenly, memories of that day at the execution ground returned with force. The pungent smell of blood seemed to invade her nostrils again, and the sound of a blade cutting off a head echoed in her ears.

Her thoughts became jumbled, and in the end, her hand moved uncontrollably.

And that's when she realized the truth: she couldn't do it.

Even now, her hands were trembling. Summer had returned to the bed, lying beside Bran as if guarding the unconscious boy. The man's unrecognizable body lay on the floor before her. Cornelia felt a wave of nausea growing, a sensation even worse than what she had experienced at the execution ground.

Over the years, she had trained relentlessly – in fighting, archery, fencing. But when the moment came, she finally understood that she wasn't ready to take someone's life.

If she had died today, it would have been her fault. She would deserve it.

"Lia! My daughter! Are you alright?"

Catelyn rushed to Cornelia, embracing her tightly, as if holding a treasure she almost lost. The terrifying moment had shaken her mother deeply. The thought of losing another child would be more painful for her than death itself.

"Mother!" Cornelia whispered in pain, closing her eyes and burying her face in Catelyn's arms. The smell of blood in the air was strong, so strong it felt like it was suffocating her. For some reason, that smell reminded her of that night at the execution site – the smell was eerily similar, even though the situations were different.

Obviously, it was all blood. Right?

What was the difference?

Cornelia couldn't understand. But in the state she was in, she had no energy to reflect deeply. Her mind had been confused since the moment her sword veered off course. She could only pretend to be calm.

Soon, she grabbed the sword her father had given her and put it away, trying to keep her composure. Even with the nausea growing inside her, Cornelia suppressed the discomfort and asked for help to collect the assassin's body. When Robb returned, she reported everything that had happened, her voice controlled and seemingly calm.

Later, Catelyn, still concerned, insisted that Cornelia return to her room and rest. After much effort, Cornelia managed to persuade her mother to leave. However, as soon as she was alone, she could no longer hold back her emotions. Tremors took over her body, and while she was bathing, she began to sob uncontrollably.

The image of the man's body was etched in her mind.

The disfigured face. The eyes ripped from their sockets. The shredded flesh exposing only blood and bones.

All of that was just two steps away from her.

Every time Cornelia closed her eyes, those images resurfaced, clear as day. It was as if the scene was imprinted in her memory, impossible to erase.

The nausea rose again. Cornelia grabbed the edge of the bathtub, trying to vomit, but nothing came out. After long minutes, all that remained were gasps. Weak, she curled up in the bathtub, hugging her knees and trying to stop crying, but it was useless.

She couldn't continue like this.

If Summer hadn't acted in time, it would have been her, her mother, and Bran who would have died.

If she couldn't use the sword, she had to accept that responsibility.

Cornelia realized, with brutal clarity, that if she continued like this, "hesitant, vulnerable," she and her family would always be victims. They would always be at the mercy of enemies who wouldn't hesitate to take their lives.

And the enemies showed no mercy.

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