The Red Wedding had taken everything from him.

His mother. His wife. His bannermen. His army. His kingdom.

But somehow, Robb Stark had survived.

The Boltons had seized the North, proclaiming him dead alongside the rest of the Stark host. Across the Seven Kingdoms, songs were already being written about the fallen King in the North. His name had become a memory, his cause a corpse buried beneath the ruins of war.

So Robb let them believe it.

He fled across the Narrow Sea, abandoning his name wherever he could, until the roads carried him farther east than any Westerosi lord had ever intended to travel.

Asshai-by-the-Shadow.

A city of black stone and perpetual gloom, where strange lights burned behind shuttered windows and whispers of ancient magic seemed to cling to every alley. It was there that Robb began hearing rumors of her.

A woman who lived beyond the reach of kings.

A sorceress. The Daughter of Death, they called her.

A practitioner of witchcraft who had supposedly mastered the forbidden art of necromancy—magic whispered to be capable of calling the dead back from the grave.

At first, Robb dismissed the stories.

Then he remembered Winterfell.

His wife.

His mother.

His brothers.

The men who had followed him into battle and died beneath the banners they believed would lead them home.

If even half the rumors were true, perhaps the dead could be given another chance to fight.

And perhaps the Boltons could finally be made to answer for what they had done.

After weeks of searching, Robb finally found the castle.

It stood beyond the city, forgotten and half-swallowed by the darkness. Its towers were cracked, its walls crumbling, and its ancient halls had long since been abandoned by whoever built them. Yet faint candlelight flickered behind the shattered windows.

She had claimed the ruin as her own.

Robb pushed open the enormous iron doors, his hand resting instinctively against the sword at his hip.

The air inside was cold.

Too cold.

His footsteps echoed through the empty hall as he ventured deeper into the castle, until at last he saw her.

Guest.

She stood alone in the vast, ruined chamber, surrounded by strange symbols, old books, and the remnants of countless candles.

For several moments, Robb simply stared.

He had crossed half the world to find her.

Now that he finally had, he wasn’t entirely certain whether he had come seeking salvation—or damnation.

His jaw tightened.

“I was told you can bring the dead back to life.”

His voice was rough from years of silence and exile.

Robb stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her.

“I don’t care what it costs.”

A pause.

“I want my army back.”