Upon hearing this, Lo Quen's mind leapt to a shocking connection.
The Bloodstone Emperor and the Amethyst Empress.
Siblings. Husband and wife. The same ending.
Could it be… that they were the descendants of that Ice and Fire sibling pair, the "reincarnation" of those magical wills during the previous Long Night cycle?
The Old Gods watched the shifting expressions on Lo Quen's face and seemed to guess his thoughts.
"You're thinking about the last Long Night. In that era, the magical will of 'Fire' reincarnated as the Bloodstone Emperor, while the magical will of 'Ice' reincarnated as his sister, the Amethyst Empress. You already know how it ended. The Bloodstone Emperor killed his sister, and the Long Night was brought to a halt…"
Only then did Lo Quen truly grasp the essence of the so-called prophecy of the Lord of Light.
"So that's what it is. The 'Prince foretold in prophecy' is, at its core, simply the Lord of Light's own magical power searching for its next incarnation. The goal is to use that reincarnated individual to kill the incarnation of the Ice Magic Will. That's what the Lord of Light has been after all along."
His thoughts raced.
If Jon Snow was judged to be the reincarnation of fire, then on the side of the Cold God… who was the reincarnation of ice?
The Old Gods nodded, then shook their heads.
"That is only part of the truth. The more dreadful consequence is this: once one side completely destroys the other's reincarnated vessel, the two polar forces of ice and fire that sustain this world's fragile balance will be utterly broken… and this world will face a truly unimaginable calamity."
Lo Quen frowned.
"A calamity? What kind of calamity?"
"I have seen only fragments in the remnants of prophecy," the Old Gods replied. "A scale. A claw…"
Their voice grew weaker by the moment.
"No matter which side ultimately prevails, the world will march toward destruction. And you…"
That single eye suddenly fixed on Lo Quen.
"You will be the only one capable of stopping it."
Lo Quen let out a short, mocking laugh, his disbelief plain.
"Something even you couldn't deal with? You've lived for tens of thousands of years, and you expect me to solve it? Aren't you overestimating me?"
The Old Gods' tone, however, carried an unsettling certainty.
"My power has been worn down by the passage of time. This latest invasion of the Others is the reason I've clung to existence until now. I was waiting for you, so I could tell you all of this. Even so, I'm better off than the other six old fools. They were either completely annihilated long ago or are no different from the dead. Only I, through my symbiosis with the weirwood, retained a fragment of memory. If you do not stop this, the world truly is finished."
Lo Quen remained unmoved and pressed on.
"Then at the very least, you should tell me how I'm supposed to stop it. You've lived for tens of thousands of years. Don't tell me you only know the problem and not the solution."
The Old Gods shook their head with great difficulty.
"Most of my memories are gone. All that remains are the most essential fragments: the fate binding ice and fire, and the origins of the Long Night. Beyond that, I truly know nothing."
Lo Quen studied the dying Old Gods with a strange look.
"So in the end, you're nothing more than a lingering obsession of a soul, kept alive by magic. Your obsession is to prevent the cyclical fate of ice and fire and preserve balance. And the way you achieve that is by passing your memories and that obsession to each successive Greenseer, granting yourself a kind of 'eternal' existence."
He was almost certain that these so-called Old Gods were, in essence, powerful obsessions or programs trapped in place.
The presence on the throne neither denied it nor had the strength to respond further.
Its breathing became ragged and chaotic before it suddenly spewed several mouthfuls of foul, murky blood.
At last, its head slumped to the side, and that lone crimson eye went completely dark.
Brynden River's long-dead body, along with the "Old Gods'" will that had dwelled within it, seemed to have finally reached its end.
Lo Quen stood where he was, brow tightly knit, his mind filled with doubts.
To be honest, he did not fully believe the Old Gods' words.
A consciousness that had endured for tens of thousands of years was never something an ordinary person could truly comprehend, whether in its way of thinking or its ultimate aims.
If both the Lord of Light and the God of Cold could use magic to preserve their obsessions for so long, all while displaying such strong aggression and clear purpose, then could this seemingly "neutral" and "benevolent" Old God truly be waiting for a savior purely for the sake of world peace?
He would never underestimate the cunning or long-laid schemes of these ancient sorcerers.
He could not shake the feeling that behind this so-called "mission," there was likely an even deeper conspiracy.
Stepping forward, he carefully examined Brynden Rivers's body. Only after confirming that it showed absolutely no signs of life or any lingering energy fluctuations did he finally let out a small breath of relief.
Even so, the wariness in his heart did not fade.
Turning around, he retraced his steps out of the cavern steeped in death and secrets, returning to the weirwood forest lashed by wind and snow.
As he looked at the weirwood before him, standing as if it were silently mocking the world, a cold glint flashed through Lo Quen's eyes.
"Whatever schemes you may have, complete destruction is always the safest option."
He muttered to himself, then transformed once more into a golden dragon.
His massive body stretched out amid the howling blizzard. He opened his draconic maw, and a vast surge of magic rapidly gathered within.
This time, he did not unleash ordinary dragonfire. Instead, he reached for the newly acquired power.
[Explosive Dragonfire Projectile]!
A dazzling, condensed golden fireball instantly took shape within his mouth. Though only a few hundred feet across, it looked as though molten lava flowed endlessly inside it.
"Go!"
With a single thought, the highly concentrated Explosive Dragonfire Projectile shot forth like an arrow loosed from a bow, dragging a blazing tail of flame as it slammed precisely into the massive trunk of the weirwood.
"BOOM—!!!"
The deafening explosion echoed across the silent snowfield.
Blazing golden flames swallowed the pale trunk in an instant, crackling violently as they burned. The weirwood seemed to let out a soundless wail as the ancient human face carved into its bark twisted and melted in the inferno.
In the end, the entire colossal tree, along with its towering crown, was reduced to a heap of still-burning blackened charcoal amid surging firelight and thick smoke.
The explosion and flying embers ignited the surrounding forest within a thousand-foot radius, forming a small sea of fire.
Against the frozen, snowbound landscape, it created a scene of stark and devastating beauty.
Lo Quen, in his golden dragon form, hovered in midair, coldly watching the burning ruins below.
To ensure that this possible "Old God" had no hidden contingencies left behind, or any way for its consciousness to linger through the weirwood network, he resolved that from now on, any weirwood he encountered would be utterly destroyed.
With that decision made, he wasted no more time.
Beating his enormous wings, the massive golden figure shot skyward, tearing through wind and snow as he sped southward, toward Moat Cailin.