Newton rode through the gates of Snowland as the weekend sun dipped low behind the towers. The castle did not feel the same. It stood where it had always stood. The same cold stone. The same banners hanging from the walls. The same guards at attention.
Yet something had shifted. Or perhaps, it was him. The green armor rested firmly on his body now. It fit him as though it had always belonged there. The cloth beneath it bore the faint scent of the monastery. Smoke, iron, and something older.
The moment he entered the courtyard, the guards straightened. Word had already spread. He had returned. Not as a boy. Not as a son. But as something else.
Newton dismounted. His boots hit the ground with a quiet thud. He walked forward without hesitation. Edmond stood at the center of the courtyard, waiting.
John stood beside him. Newton stopped a few steps away. He did not bow..He stood straight.
Still.
John frowned immediately. "You stand before the Warden," he said, his voice low but firm. It sounded like a warning. "A reminder of custom."
Newton did not look at him at first. Then slowly, he turned his head toward his younger brother. "Forgive me, little brother.".His voice carried no mockery. Only certainty.."But I no longer serve any Warden, or king."
His eyes shifted back to Edmond. "I bow only before the gods." The courtyard grew quiet. Some of the guards exchanged uneasy glances.
John opened his mouth slightly, unsure what to say next. But Edmond simply nodded. He understood. "You were meant to become a knight after eight months," Edmond said calmly.
His gaze swept across Newton's armor. "Not two weeks." A faint smile appeared on Newton's lips. "They were eager." He adjusted the strap on his shoulder. "So they knighted me early."
For a moment, silence lingered between them. Then Edmond stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace..Newton returned it without hesitation. But even in that moment, something felt different, and less familiar.
Edmond pulled back and studied his face briefly..Then without another word, he turned. "Come."
Newton followed him. They moved through the halls in silence until they reached the study. The door closed behind them. The room smelled the same. Old parchment. Burning wood. Steel. Edmond picked up the blade used for shaving.
Newton sat without being told. He lowered his head. The sound of metal brushing against his scalp filled the room. Strands of hair fell slowly to the floor. Neither of them spoke. The ritual remained the same. But the space between them felt wider.
When it was done, Newton stood. He bowed slightly. Then he left. The castle corridors felt longer than he remembered.
Colder, and quieter. He stopped in front of a familiar door. Sonia's room. He hesitated for only a moment. Then he knocked.
Once. There was no response. He knocked again. Only silence came.
His jaw tightened slightly. "Sonia." He waited. But nothing happened. No movement. No voice. No sign that she had even heard him. He stood there for a few seconds longer. Then he turned away. John found him later in the corridor.
"She hasn't come out much since you left," John said quietly. Newton stopped walking. "Her maid says she barely eats." For a moment, Newton said nothing. Then he exhaled. "She will get used to it." The words came flat. He resumed walking. John watched him go.
The weekends began to repeat themselves.
Newton trained in the monastery. Harder than the others. Faster, and sharper. Steel clashed in the training yard day after day.
He moved like he had something to prove. Or something to bury. Then the weekends came..And he returned home. And Edmond shaved his head.
Again, and again. The cycle continued. Time passed. One weekend, as Newton rode back toward the monastery, something caught his attention.
A group of riders ahead. They moved casually. Dressed like ordinary men. But Newton's eyes narrowed. He recognized them. Even without the armor. Tywin Mansfield. And several of the knight brothers.
Newton slowed his horse. "What business could they have here?".He kept his distance..Following quietly. The riders entered a nearby city. The streets buzzed with life.
Merchants shouted. Children ran between stalls. Music drifted from taverns. Newton dismounted and continued on foot. He watched them carefully. They turned into a narrow street. Then stopped in front of a building.
Newton's brows furrowed. A brothel..He froze for a moment.."What are they doing here?" He moved closer..Carefully. Keeping to the shadows. He watched as the men entered.
Laughter echoed from inside..Music followed. Newton's expression hardened. He lingered outside longer than he should have. Then a voice broke his thoughts. "What are you looking for?"
He turned. A girl stood behind him. Her clothes left little to the imagination. Her eyes studied him curiously. Newton hesitated. Then asked quietly. "The men who just entered," He glanced toward the door. "What are they doing here?"
The girl smiled faintly. "They are customers.".She crossed her arms lightly. "They come here often." Newton's jaw tightened. "Every weekend." The words settled heavily inside him.
He said nothing more. He turned. And walked away. By the time he returned to the monastery, night had already fallen. He went straight to Grand Master Aemon. The old man listened without interruption. Newton finished speaking.
Silence followed. Then Aemon nodded. "You have done well." That was all he said. He did not summon the knights. He did not question them. He did not punish them. The matter ended there.
At least, on the surface. Newton returned to training. His focus sharpened. His strikes grew faster, and stronger. And also more precise.
Steel rang louder when he fought. One by one, the knights fell before him in training duels. None could hold him for long. Not even the senior knights. Word spread quickly. One afternoon, Master Kelly stood beside Tywin as Newton finished another duel.
The defeated knight struggled to rise from the ground. Kelly shook his head slowly. "The boy." His voice carried quiet awe. "He is the best I have ever seen." He crossed his arms. "He might become Grand Master one day."
Tywin did not smile. He did not look impressed. He simply shook his head. "He is a bastard." His voice came cold. "Born of an unholy union." His eyes followed Newton as he walked away from the yard.
"Such a vessel cannot represent divinity.".He turned and walked off without another word. That night, Newton lay on his bed. Sleep came slowly.
Then, darkness. He stood inside a vast library. The same one. Tall shelves stretched endlessly into the shadows. Dust floated through the air. And there it was. At the center.
The egg. The dragon egg. Newton stepped forward. His footsteps echoed softly. His hand reached out. He touched it. The shell cracked instantly. A sharp sound split the silence. Light spilled through the fracture.
Newton's breath caught. The shell broke open. And something moved inside. A small creature emerged. Scales, wings.
A baby dragon..Its eyes opened. It looked at him.
Newton gasped, and woke up. He sat upright in his bed. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Sweat clung to his skin. This was not the first time. He had seen this before.
The same place. The same egg. The same creature. He ran a hand across his face. "Why?" His voice came low. "Why do I keep seeing this?".He stared into the darkness. "Why am I dreaming of an extinct creature?"
Silence answered him. His fingers curled slowly. "What does it have to do with me?"