Disclaimer: I don't own Martin's works.
The end came for Daniel with a sharp, unexpected finality, as sudden and indifferent as the turning of a page.
At the ripe age of sixteen, Daniel was no stranger to pain. Born with a bad leg that left him with a pronounced limp, he had spent most of his life on the sidelines; watching from afar as other children ran, jumped, and lived with a freedom he could only dream of. With shorter than average height coming at five foot three and a frame that was too thin like a reed perpetually on the verge of collapse, he was often overlooked; always blending into the background of his own life. The taunts and jests of his peers had long since lost their sting, replaced by a dull resignation that this was simply the hand life had dealt him.
Children truly were as cruel as they were pure.
That day, like so many others, Daniel was alone. He had taken to walking the quiet streets of his small town, the uneven rhythm of his footsteps a familiar companion in the silence. It was late afternoon, the sky tinged with the first hints of evening, and the world around him seemed to exhale a collective sigh of weariness. He had no particular destination in mind, only the desire to escape the suffocating confines of his home, where his parents' well-meaning but overbearing concern hung over him like a cloud.
"It's not their fault I suppose." He muttered to himself, thinking about the fussing of his parents. After all, every parent worries about their child, he thought with a wry smile. "Especially parents who knew that their child was having difficulty in socializing." Daniel whispered.
He had been lost in thought, as he often was, his mind wandering to the fantastical worlds he so loved to escape into. Books, games, and the endless realms of imagination had been his refuge since childhood, a place where his physical limitations fell away, and he could be anyone, do anything. In those worlds, he wasn't Daniel the cripple, Daniel the weak—he was a hero, a warrior, a savior. It was a small comfort, but one that had sustained him through the long and lonely years of being ridiculed by his peers for things that were out of is control.
He was in the midst of one such daydream, imagining himself as a powerful sorcerer from one of his favorite stories, when the end came. There was no warning, no ominous sign to herald the approach of death—just the ordinary sounds of the street around him: the distant hum of a car engine, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the muted chatter of voices from a nearby café.
After that?
Nothing.
One moment he was alive, his mind a whirl of magic and adventure, and the next, the world around him simply ceased to exist. It was as though someone had flipped a switch and reality itself blinked out of being. There was no pain, no struggle—just a sudden, overwhelming darkness that consumed him entirely.
In that void, there was no sense of time, no awareness of space. He was simply...gone.
At first, there was only confusion, a vague awareness that something had changed, but without the clarity to understand what it actually was. His thoughts, once so vivid and active, became sluggish, like trying to run through water. There was a fleeting sense of loss, a realization that something precious had been taken from him, but even that faded into the darkness.
Daniel didn't know how much time had passed in that deep, dark void. It felt like eons had passed without him noticing.
The void was absolute, all-encompassing, suffocating. There was no body to feel, no air to breathe, no ground beneath his feet. He had no voice with which to cry out, no eyes with which to see. There was only the cold, endless expanse of nothingness, stretching out in every direction, vast and empty.
Yet, amidst the emptiness, there was a growing awareness—an understanding that this was not simply a dream he could wake up from. This was something deeper, more final.
'Is this death?' He thought as he could not feel his mouth moving.
Dread welled up within him at that thought.
He thought of his parents, his mother and father. How they would feel when they got the news of his passing. His father; the quiet man that he was and prone to hiding all his worries and concerns from the world behind a mask of silence. His mother, bright and cheery, yet so caring that she refused to let him seclude himself from the world.
And then he simply felt empty.
Was this all that awaited him in the afterlife—a formless, endless void where time had no meaning, and he was nothing more than a speck of consciousness adrift in a sea of darkness?
The thought terrified him, but there was no escape from it. The void offered no comfort, no warmth, only the cold, unfeeling reality of its existence. Daniel could not remember how long he drifted in that state—for time had no place here—but gradually, a new sensation began to emerge. It was faint at first, barely noticeable, but it grew with each passing moment, tugging, pulling, as if something—or someone—was reaching out to him, drawing him towards...something else.
It was this pull…this sense of movement, that brought with it a new emotion; fear.
Fear of the unknown, fear of what lay beyond the void. What could possibly be worse than this empty nothingness? Yet, alongside the fear, there was something else—a small flicker of hope, buried deep within him. Was it possible that there was more? That he wasn't doomed to spend eternity in this cold, lifeless void which slowly chipped away at his sense of identity.
Suddenly, Daniel was enveloped in a brilliant, blinding light that pierced through the void with an intensity of a supernova. The transition from the cold, infinite darkness to this overwhelming brilliance was so abrupt that it left him disoriented, as if he had been plunged into a realm beyond comprehension. The light was everywhere, surrounding him, filling him, and for a moment, he thought it might consume him entirely. It was pure, radiant, and impossibly bright—so much so that his first instinct was to shield his eyes, but there were no hands to raise, no eyes to close. He was aware of the light not just through sight, but through every part of his being, as though it was seeping into him, dissolving the boundaries of what he had once known as his self.
Despite its intensity, the light was not harsh or painful. On the contrary, it brought with it a profound sense of warmth, a comforting presence that seemed to reach out and cradle him in its embrace. It was warmth unlike anything he had ever felt in life—not the warmth of a summer's day or a cozy fire, but something deeper, more intrinsic. It was the warmth of safety that felt like his father's hug, of being protected from all harm, a promise that in this place, nothing could hurt him. The cold, gnawing fear that had gripped him in the void finally began to melt away, replaced by a calmness that felt as though it had been a part of him all along, just waiting to be uncovered.
As he slowly adjusted to the light, he became aware of a sensation that was both familiar and utterly alien: the feeling of standing. He couldn't say for certain if he had a body here, but there was the distinct impression of feet planted on solid ground, of balance and stability. Yet the ground, if it could be called that, was like nothing he had ever stood on before.
It wasn't hard or soft, rough or smooth; it was simply...there, an endless expanse of luminous substance that supported him without truly being physical.
The space around him was unlike anything he could describe, as if the light itself had taken on form and dimension, creating a vast, ethereal plane that stretched infinitely in every direction. It was as though he stood in the heart of a star, or perhaps in a place where light and matter were one and the same. There were no shadows, no distinctions of up or down, no horizon to mark where the light ended and something else began. It was a realm of pure existence, where time seemed to hold no sway and the very concept of distance felt meaningless.
As he took in his surroundings—or rather, as the surroundings seemed to impress themselves upon his consciousness—Daniel realized that the light wasn't just something external. It was inside him, too, filling every corner of his being with a gentle radiance that felt almost like a heartbeat. It pulsed softly, in time with a rhythm he couldn't quite place, as if resonating with something fundamental within him.
This light was different from anything he had ever known. It wasn't simply bright; it was alive, a living essence that thrummed with a presence beyond mortal comprehension.
It was as if the light itself was aware, watching him, knowing him in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. There was a sense of being seen, truly seen—not just his physical form, but everything he was, everything he had been, and everything he could be.
Yet despite this overwhelming presence, there was no fear, no sense of intrusion. Instead, there was acceptance, a feeling that this light was welcoming him, inviting him into something greater than himself. The calmness it brought was more than just a lack of fear; it was a deep, abiding peace that seemed to erase the anxieties and burdens he had carried in life. In this place, those worries felt small and distant, like echoes of a world that no longer mattered.
For the first time since he had died, Daniel felt whole—not just physically, but spiritually, as though every fractured piece of his soul had been gently mended and brought together in harmony. It was a sensation beyond words, a completeness that transcended anything he had ever known. Here, in this radiant expanse, he wasn't just Daniel, the boy with a bad leg and a small, fragile body; he was something more, something that defied the limits of his old life.
And as this realization settled over him, the light began to shift, coalescing into a new form, something different yet familiar. It was a figure, indistinct at first, but gradually taking a humanoid shape, a being of light that hovered before him with an aura of serene authority. The calm warmth that had filled him deepened, as though the figure was an extension of the light, or perhaps its very source. This presence, this entity, was unlike anything he had ever encountered, and yet there was no fear—only a profound sense of awe and reverence.
"Are you God?" The question spilled out of his mouth unwittingly.
Daniel didn't get any rebuttal to his words.
'As if they were worthless.' He thought.
The figure made up of light regarded him with an expression that transcended physical features, a blend of compassion, wisdom, and understanding that seemed to communicate directly with his soul. In that moment, Daniel knew without a doubt that he was no longer alone, and that whatever lay ahead, this being was here to guide him through it.
"You should not be here." The figure spoke finally.
Its voice was like a blend of multiple people, men and women mixed up into one. Yet for all that it was all encompassing.
"Why?" Daniel asked, but was ignored once again as the being simply scrutinized him.
The feeling of being examined was like thousands of ants crawling all over his body, nay; his soul. And the few moments which passed felt like an eternity to Daniel.
"Somehow," the being continued after a long pause," You have breached the realm of judgment and crossed into the void. Something that should not be possible."
Daniel tried to speak, but it was as if his body and soul did not want to comply with his wishes.
"If you linger here," The being carried on," Your soul will be consumed by the void, unable to pass onwards to the great beyond."
As Daniel heard those words, he felt a desperate panic filling him. He didn't want to perish in this great dark void, whatever it was. He hadn't even fully lived when he was alive!
As if sensing his fear and desperation, the figure spoke again.
"We could give you a chance." It spoke.
"How?" Relief filled his soul at finally being able to speak.
"It is impossible and against the natural order that you breached the realm of judgment and entered this plane, so whatever happens there is no conceivable way to get out of this void. Unless…." The figure stopped.
"Unless?" Daniel prompted.
"Unless you are willing to wager your existence to the void." It finished.
"Can you please explain properly!" Daniel nearly screamed at the being.
For a moment there was silence. And then suddenly, there was a pressure on Daniel as if the weight of the void began bearing down on his body. The pain was unbearable.
"Know your limits mortal!" The being thundered, its voice becoming a cacophony that would make a person's ear bleed just from the pressure the sound exerted on Daniel's being.
"What you need to do is to enter the wager with the void," It continued again in a serene voice , "if you win, you will get pass on to your next adventure with a few boons. But if you lose, the void will consume you and your existence will be erased."
Daniel floated in the suffocating abyss, the weight of eternity pressing in on him. His thoughts, already thin and frayed, clung to the being of light like the last vestiges of hope. The entity's presence was both comforting and terrifying—a beacon in this void, yet something far more powerful and unknowable.
'A wager,' the being had said, offering him a chance to escape. A chance at life, or something even more, with boons beyond comprehension. But it was the alternative that had Daniel's heart pounding in his chest—or what remained of it. Losing meant being consumed by the void, erased from existence.
"What kind of wager?" Daniel had asked, his voice trembling.
The being's answer had stunned him.
"A simple coin toss."
Daniel's thoughts raced, confusion and disbelief tangling in his mind.
A coin toss? A flip of fate, a game of pure chance to decide whether he would live again or be erased forever. It sounded absurd, grotesquely trivial for something so monumental. The stakes were his very existence, his soul teetering on the edge of oblivion, and the outcome would be determined by the whims of a spinning disc of metal.
He imagined the coin, the smooth, cold surface between his fingers, the feel of the weight as he prepared to flick it.
Heads or tails.
Two sides to a decision that could either resurrect him or condemn him to eternal darkness. The simplicity of it only made the terror worse.
"A coin toss?" he repeated, his voice shaking. "That's it? Nothing else?"
"Yes," the being of light replied. "Nothing more, nothing less. A fifty-fifty chance. Fate, in its most distilled form."
Daniel's mind struggled to comprehend. This wasn't a test of strength or will, not a challenge where he could fight, endure, or bargain his way to victory which was laughable in itself. It was chance—blind, uncaring, and indifferent. He had no control, no influence over it. In that moment, his fate was reduced to something as small and fragile as a spinning coin.
He wanted to refuse. He wanted to beg for another way, some way to prove himself, to fight for his survival. But deep down, he knew that there was no other option. The void pressed closer, eager, as though it could already taste him. Time was running out. He couldn't remain here much longer without being consumed by the darkness.
"How do I know it's not rigged?" Daniel blurted, fear twisting his gut. "What if I lose before it even begins?"
The being of light did not laugh or mock him. Its voice remained calm, steady. "The void plays fair. It has no need to cheat. Its hunger is patient. It will take you in time, should you lose."
Daniel's heart pounded in his chest. A coin toss. Just a single flip to decide everything. His life, his memories, every thought he had ever had, every person he had ever loved—balanced on the edge of a coin.
"What do you choose, Daniel?" the being asked softly. "Heads or tails?"
He hesitated.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to choose carefully, as though one choice might somehow sway fate in his favor. But he knew it was foolish. It was chance. Pure, unfiltered chance. There was no strategy here, no way to tip the scales. It didn't matter which side he picked. The outcome was beyond him, beyond anything he could control.
Yet, he had to choose.
"Heads," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.
The being didn't move. The light remained, steady and unwavering. Then, without any gesture or movement, the coin appeared—glimmering, silver, simple. It floated between them, spinning slowly in the void. Daniel's eyes locked onto it, his entire existence now tethered to that small, shining disc.
Time slowed as the coin flipped.
For a moment, there was no sound, no sensation. Just the slow, deliberate arc of the coin through the air, spinning over and over, each side gleaming in the dim light of the void.
His entire life was caught up in that spin. Daniel felt a wave of panic rising in his chest. What if it landed on tails? What if his existence was snuffed out in an instant, erased from history as if he had never been? The terror was unbearable, but the coin kept spinning, indifferent to his fear.
Finally, it began to slow. The spinning faltered, the light catching on its edges as it tumbled toward its final decision. Daniel held his breath, though in this place, it was more instinct than necessity.
Then, with a quiet, almost imperceptible sound, the coin landed.
Daniel's heart stopped.
The side of the coin gleamed in the dim light.
Heads.
The void recoiled, its oppressive weight lifting from him, and for the first time, Daniel felt something other than the cold. Warmth flooded back into him—his mind, his sense of self, his very soul seemed to pulse with life once more.
The being of light regarded him silently, the wager complete.
"You have won," it said, its voice soft but resolute. "The boons are yours. As is the chance to be reborn."
Daniel trembled, relief crashing over him like a wave, leaving him breathless. He had survived. By nothing more than a coin toss, he had beaten the void.
Daniel was still trembling from the relief of the coin landing on heads, his existence saved by the narrowest margin possible. He hadn't yet processed the full weight of what had just happened when the being of light spoke again.
"The wager is fulfilled. Now, you will be granted your reward—a new life, with four boons bestowed upon you."
Daniel's mind, still swirling with lingering fear, was now seized by a new feeling—anticipation. Four boons. What could they be? Power, knowledge, abilities beyond his mortal understanding? He could feel the promise of something vast, something infinite, creeping into his consciousness.
"Your boons will be chosen by the Wheel of Power," the being continued, its voice serene, but now carrying an edge of cosmic authority. "An infinite wheel, with possibilities beyond measure. Each spin will grant you a unique gift, one that will shape your new life."
Before Daniel could react, the void rippled. The darkness around him shimmered and shifted, revealing a massive, ethereal wheel suspended in the air before him. It glowed with an otherworldly light, its surface studded with an impossible number of symbols, runes, and images, each representing a different power, talent, or gift. Some were familiar—echoes of legends and myths from his old life—but others were so alien, so incomprehensible, that they defied his understanding.
The Wheel of Power stood as a towering monument to the unknown, spinning slowly in the void. Daniel felt its pull, a quiet hum reverberating through his very being. His heart raced again, though this time with anticipation rather than dread.
"You will receive four spins," the being explained. "Each spin will bestow upon you a boon—gifts that will be yours in the new life. The boons are random, but each holds immense power. Your path will be shaped by what you receive."
Daniel nodded, swallowing hard. The sheer vastness of the possibilities threatened to overwhelm him, but he steeled himself. He had won the wager, and now, whatever fate had in store, he would accept it.
"Spin the wheel."
The being of light gestured, and as if in response to his will, the Wheel began to spin faster, the symbols and runes blurring together into a swirling vortex of potential. Daniel could feel the weight of each revolution, the pull of destiny in every flicker of light as the wheel turned. Faster and faster it spun, until finally, it began to slow.
His heart thudded in his chest as the Wheel creaked to a stop, the pointer landing on a rune that glowed with a soft, silver light.
Enhanced Learning.
The words echoed in his mind, and with them, an understanding bloomed. Daniel felt a surge of clarity—his thoughts sharpening, his perception deepening. The first boon would allow him to learn at a pace far beyond what was natural. Skills, knowledge, languages, combat techniques—anything he set his mind to would be absorbed with incredible speed and mastery. He would become a prodigy, able to adapt and grow in ways that few could ever hope to match.
Daniel grinned despite himself. This was a powerful gift. It would give him an edge in any life he entered. To think there were still three more boons to come.
The Wheel began to spin again, this time faster than before, the air around it humming with energy. His mind raced with possibilities. What else would he receive? What powers lay waiting for him?
The Wheel slowed once more, the pointer gliding gracefully over the symbols until it stopped on a symbol shaped like a fortress with a glowing sword crossed in front of it.
Warrior's Citadel.
Images flashed before his eyes—an enormous fortress, ancient and indomitable, rising from the earth like a monument to war and discipline. Daniel's understanding of this boon flooded into him. The Warrior's Citadel was not just a structure, but a vast, timeless stronghold designed for training the greatest warriors. It held within it knowledge of combat, strategy, and war from across countless eras and dimensions. In this place, time moved differently—Daniel could train for years in the Citadel and emerge in the real world after only moments had passed.
He could feel it already—this Citadel would be his sanctuary, his place to hone his abilities to perfection, to prepare for whatever challenges awaited him. He could train alone or with warriors from across time and space. It was a forge for legends. But there was a condition to it. It was a power that he could only use once, and once he entered it, he would not be able to escape until he conquered it.
The Wheel resumed its motion, this time glowing with a deep, pulsating light. Daniel's pulse quickened, the anticipation growing sharper with each turn. He felt the momentum of his fate building.
As the Wheel slowed again, the pointer clicked into place over a symbol of a glowing body, muscles outlined in shimmering light.
Force Reinforcement and Augmentation.
Another surge of understanding hit him—this was no ordinary physical enhancement. This boon would allow him to use a force beyond what his muscles could normally handle. He would be able to push his body to its absolute limits and beyond, reinforcing his physical structure and augmenting his strength, speed, and agility with near-superhuman levels of power. His strikes would hit harder, his movements would be faster, and his endurance would be unmatched. He would have the ability to fight with the power of ten men, perhaps more, depending on how far he was willing to push his limits.
Again, there was a condition attached. He would have to train his body and mind to learn to utilize the force or it would tear his body apart if it could not handle the force channeling through his body.
Daniel flexed his nonexistent hands, already feeling the ghostly surge of energy coursing through his body. The boons were adding up—each one more extraordinary than the last.
And now, for the final spin.
The Wheel spun faster this time, as though it sensed the end of the ritual, glowing with all the light of the cosmos. Daniel's mind raced. One more boon. One more gift to shape his destiny.
The Wheel slowed, and the pointer finally came to rest on an image of a great beast—part lion, part dragon, part wolf—surrounded by a wild, untamed energy.
The Beastmaster.
This time, Daniel's mind filled with images of animals—tigers, wolves, eagles, and creatures he couldn't even name. This boon granted him dominion over beasts. He would be able to communicate with animals, bond with them, and, if he so desired, control them. More than that, he could enhance one of them—strengthening the body and the instincts, sharpening the abilities, and turning them into loyal companions and deadly allies. With this power, he could call upon the might of nature, harnessing the strength and ferocity of the animal kingdom. But after the first bond, each successive bond would get progressively weaker.
The Wheel vanished, disintegrating into motes of light as its purpose was fulfilled. Daniel stood in the void, his mind reeling from the weight of the powers he had just gained. Fast learning, a warrior's citadel, force reinforcement, and mastery over beasts—each boon would shape his new life in ways he couldn't yet imagine.
The being of light spoke once more, its voice filled with finality.
"Your boons are granted. You will be reborn, mortal, with the gifts of power that fate has chosen for you. Now go, and forge your destiny."
The void trembled, and for the first time since his death, Daniel felt the pull of life—of rebirth—surging toward him.
"Wait!" Daniel yelled desperately, resisting the pull of rebirth with all his might. "Can you at least tell me where I'll be going?"
With the pull of life becoming more savage with each passing moment, the last thing he heard as everything turned black was something that chilled him right down to the core of his soul.
"Into the Song of Ice and fire."
Welcome to my first story.
I have been reading works on this site for the past six years and am now finally uploading my first work in progress. Hope you all can help me improve by providing constructive criticism.
Sincerely hope that you all enjoy this story as much I am enjoying writing it.
Cheers,
Shags
