Katrina's Father's POV
The body was perfect.
Stronger than he had expected. More resilient. A mind sharpened by pain, a will forged in fire. Katrina had always been his greatest creation—whether she liked it or not.
And now, she was him.
Or rather, he was her.
He could feel it, the way her muscles moved beneath his command, the way her lungs pulled in the cold air, the way her fire still burned deep inside, waiting, resisting.
But it didn't matter.
Because he had won.
For years, he had existed as a shadow, as whispers in the dark, as remnants of something that refused to fade. But now—now—he had flesh again.
And soon, he would have everything.
He had waited for this.
Watched her grow. Tested her. Shaped her.
And she had proven herself worthy.
Now, all he had to do was finish what he started.
He could feel her mind screaming somewhere in the dark corners of their shared existence, clawing against the walls he had built around her, fighting him.
He smirked.
Of course, she was fighting.
She was his daughter, after all.
But it was futile.
Because he had already anchored himself too deeply.
He had learned from his past mistakes—he wouldn't just linger in the edges of existence, waiting to be burned away. No, this time, he had buried himself in her core, tied himself to the very essence of who she was.
If she destroyed him, she destroyed herself.
Checkmate.
They were moving toward the First Shadow.
Toward the source of all his power.
Jon Snow was watching him—watching her—so carefully, with those dark, storm-filled eyes, like he was waiting for something to crack.
He almost laughed.
How predictable.
Jon felt it. He knew.
He couldn't prove it yet, but oh, the little bastard knew.
Good.
Let him simmer in his own doubt, let him watch Katrina's body move and wonder if she was still herself.
By the time he figured it out, it would be too late.
The Stark girl—Arya—wasn't paying attention, too busy trading sharp words with Reynolds like they were playing some petty little game.
Reynolds—his other mistake—was too distracted by her. Too wrapped up in whatever pathetic connection he thought he was building.
They were blind.
Only Jon saw.
But Jon couldn't stop it.
Not now.
Not when he was this close.
The ruins loomed in the distance, the dark stone swallowed by frost and time, but beneath it, beneath the ice and shadows, was the place where everything began.
His power. His rebirth. His true victory.
Soon, he would sever the final ties binding him to the past.
Soon, he would stop being a shadow.
And when he stood at the threshold of the First Shadow, he would take everything his daughter had ever been—
And he would make it his.
Forever.
Deep inside the mind he had stolen, in the prison he had crafted, Katrina raged.
She beat her fists against the walls he had built, burning with all the fire that still lived within her.
"I am not yours."
Her father only smiled.
"You always were."