Chapter 15 – The Whisper of Ashes

Support me on patreon.com/c/Striker2025

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The cell beneath Winterfell was cold and narrow, lit by a single torch. The assassin sat chained to the wall, blood still dried along his tunic from Arthur's earlier strike. He had been caught in the act—dagger drawn, inches from Brandon Stark—before the guards had tackled him to the ground.

Now, Lord Rickard stood before the prisoner, Ser Colm and Maester Walys nearby. Two guards flanked the cell entrance.

"Name," Rickard said, voice sharp.

The assassin smiled. "Names are for the living."

Walys stepped forward. "You tried to kill the heir of House Stark. Speak now or lose your tongue."

The man's eyes gleamed. "Too late."

Suddenly, he jerked forward. His teeth clenched, and a crack echoed in the cell. Foam sprayed from his mouth as he convulsed—black spit spilling down his chin.

Ser Colm cursed. "He bit something."

Poison. Fast-acting.

Rickard knelt, grabbing the man's collar, but it was too late. The prisoner gave one final, rasping breath, then slumped against the stone.

Walys checked him. "Dead. Nightshade venom in the tooth, most likely."

Rickard's jaw tensed. "Whoever sent him didn't want him to speak."

Then they noticed it.

Scratched into the man's wrist, barely visible beneath the grime—two words.

"Red crow."

Ser Colm frowned. "A sigil? A code?"

Rickard stood slowly. "Find the meaning. Quietly. We do not speak of this outside this room."

Above them, the wind howled through Winterfell's towers. Snow fell again. Cold and silent.

And somewhere far beyond the Wall, in the roots of a great weirwood tree, the Three-Eyed Raven opened one more eye.