Chapter 168 – The Rope of Shadows
Warm sunlight lazily draped itself over the Wall, its brilliance reflecting endlessly off the massive ice barrier in dazzling, crystalline flashes.
Under the gentle warmth, the sound of dripping water echoed along the base of the Wall—like the quiet revival of life at the end of winter.
But here, it was nothing unusual.
"The Wall is crying again," a ranger muttered.
The Wall, that colossal boundary at the edge of the human world, was not entirely frozen. When the weather warmed, it melted; when it turned cold, it froze again.
After the Wall "wept," the Night's Watch would pour water over its surface during colder days, reinforcing it with fresh layers of ice.
Its core remained as solid as iron through the ages—but its surface had been replaced countless times.
So while the weather today was pleasant, not everyone was pleased.
Because good weather meant work.
---
"Bloody hell with the Night's Watch! What kind of stupid rule is this? Even a drillmaster has to do manual labor?"
Leaning against a wooden post in the training yard, Sandor Clegane grumbled under his breath. He raised a wineskin and took a swig—
—but suddenly froze mid-motion.
Cool wine dribbled from the corner of his mouth as his eyes widened, staring up at the sky.
"…What the hell…"
he muttered.
His already scarred and fearsome face was slowly swallowed by shadow.
---
The sky, once clear and bright, shifted in mere moments.
Dark clouds gathered rapidly, swallowing the sunlight and plunging everything into gloom.
From a narrow stone window along the King's Tower corridor, the sudden change was clearly visible.
Theo, a guard from the Bolton lands, blinked in disbelief and cursed:
"What kind of damn weather is this? Two days ago I was freezing my teeth off, yesterday I was sweating like mad—and now it's flipping between sunshine and darkness every few minutes!?"
"Maybe the gods are fighting up there," Gerren, the cobbler's son, replied absentmindedly.
But his attention was elsewhere.
"Theo… did you hear something inside?"
He pointed toward the door behind them.
Theo snorted.
"What could there be? Everyone saw what happened to those book thieves. Only an idiot would go in there looking to die."
Still, he turned back to the window, silently counting.
Sure enough, moments later—
the clouds parted, and sunlight returned.
"Damn it… sunny again," he muttered, clearly used to this by now.
This strange weather had been happening all morning—sun, then shadow, over and over again.
It wasn't normal.
But Theo had spent enough time around a certain mysterious individual to be somewhat immune to bizarre phenomena.
Watching the Night's Watch and northern soldiers below panic and scramble, he even found it amusing.
"Idiots…"
Just then, a shout came from behind him.
Theo spun around to see Gerren staring at the study door, face tense.
"I'm telling you—there's definitely something inside!"
Seeing his companion wasn't joking, Theo's expression hardened. He drew his weapon and fixed his gaze on the closed wooden door.
"Another thief?"
They exchanged a glance—
—and kicked the door open together, shouting as they did.
---
The study was empty.
Books filled the shelves, their strange script silent yet oddly imposing.
No intruder.
Theo shot Gerren an annoyed look, then turned and left without hesitation.
---
"You're imagining things! Where's the person, huh?"
"I swear I heard something…"
Their voices faded beyond the door.
Inside the study—
someone quietly shook his head.
---
White, spotless shoes stepped silently across the floor.
Tailored white trousers, perfectly smooth.
A white tailcoat, completely out of place in this era.
In his hand—a brown staff.
On his chest—a seven-pointed star badge, swaying gently as he walked.
Moving between the bookshelves, a small translucent turtle in the corner occasionally peeked at him with curious eyes.
There was no need to guess who it was.
Charles.
In spirit form.
His real body remained at the mountain where the Three-Eyed Raven resided. He neither had the time nor the opportunity to return to the Wall.
So to search for knowledge—
he had chosen this method.
---
At the moment, he was scanning the shelves, searching for a particular book.
"The ancient god's body has been destroyed. The Lady of Light will sense it. Your staff absorbed her power—she will come for you. And soon."
The Three-Eyed Raven's warning echoed in his mind.
Charles smiled faintly.
"I'd be delighted if she did."
He glanced down at the staff in his hand.
After absorbing the "little sun," the staff had performed a miracle—
reviving his entire army.
After that, nothing unusual had happened.
At least, on the surface.
But Charles didn't believe it was that simple.
When he examined the staff afterward, he noticed something:
Inside the crystal orb—
the eyes representing the Father had begun to burn with two bright flames.
The Eye of Reality indicated that something was brewing within—
something that required time.
So Charles had no idea what this once-fake artifact—originally just a prop for deception—might ultimately evolve into.
"The Stranger… and the Father…"
he murmured softly.
"A fitting symmetry."
Lost in thought, Charles turned his head toward the window.
Outside, the once-clear sky began to darken again.
But only moments later, he withdrew his gaze with a hint of dissatisfaction.
His talent—Lord of the Long Night—could indeed summon darkness.
But that "long night" was anything but long.
In reality, it lasted only a few dozen seconds.
Like most abilities in this world, it didn't consume mana or mental energy.
Instead, what limited him was a peculiar kind of fatigue—like holding a heavy object until his arms gave out, forcing him to drop it.
After resting briefly, he could use it again.
It sounded convenient.
But in practice, this stop-and-start limitation made it far less useful.
"…Aside from looking impressive."
With a quiet sigh, Charles stopped dwelling on it and refocused on his task.
---
He hadn't returned to the Wall in spirit form to test abilities.
He came for one reason:
to find a way to deal with the Lady of Light.
The Three-Eyed Raven had warned him—
whether it was the Lady of Light or R'hllor, they would come for him.
And Charles had no intention of waiting passively.
Even if the gods of this world were relatively weak, he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could casually brush one aside.
"So… let's see whose methods are better."
Murmuring to himself, he stopped before a black-covered book titled:
The Rope of Shadows
With a flick of his staff, a burst of multicolored light condensed into an invisible hand, pulling the book from the shelf.
Under his control, the unseen hand began flipping through its pages.
This ability resembled his Shadow Servants, though it could only be used in spirit form through the staff.
In normal conditions, the staff could not produce such miracle-like prismatic energy.
---
In truth, thanks to the memories he had inherited from the bandaged man, Charles already knew how to avoid the curses within these books.
Unfortunately, in his current state, he couldn't physically touch them.
"No spatial rings in this world, huh…" he muttered.
Lowering his head, he began reading carefully.
---
Despite its name, The Rope of Shadows did not describe a literal rope.
It detailed a binding magic array—
One that consumed a large number of souls, but could be used even at relatively low levels.
Charles recognized it immediately from the bandaged man's memories.
That was why he had come here with a clear purpose.
The strength of the array depended entirely on the number of souls invested.
Which made it perfect for him.
After all—
he knew exactly what was stored inside his staff.
---
Moreover, the book mentioned an important detail:
If the souls used matched the nature of the target, the binding effect would be significantly stronger.
For example:
To bind a human → use human souls
To bind a non-human → use non-human souls
Simple in theory.
But when it came to gods in this world—
things became complicated.
Because in A Song of Ice and Fire, gods were essentially specialized spiritual entities.
They had no fixed physical form.
They couldn't be seen or touched under normal circumstances.
At most, they manifested through:
changes in natural phenomena
or ritual effects, like the Drowned God, who manifested through sacrificial spiritual fields
They had no true bodies.
But—
if they wished, they could possess vessels.
For instance:
The formless Other God could implant its will into a human infant, creating a White Walker, allowing it to walk the physical world.
In other words—
White Walkers were not separate beings.
They were fragments of the Other God itself.
If the Other God could do it—
then R'hllor could as well.
---
"So… what form will she take?"
Charles murmured softly as he flipped through the pages.
The answer was almost obvious.
And if he remembered correctly—
inside his staff…
there were quite a few "special souls" that had been stored for a very long time.