Book 3: The Fire That Remains

Chapter 1: The Whisper in the Dark

Katrina's POV

The fire crackled weakly in the center of their camp, casting long, twisting shadows against the ancient stone ruins. The cold was sharp, biting at Katrina's exposed skin, but she barely felt it.

Because she wasn't really here.

Not fully.

Her father's voice still lingered in her mind, curling around her thoughts like smoke, slipping through the cracks before she could force it out.

"Did you think it would be that easy, daughter?"

Katrina clenched her jaw, staring into the flames.

No. She hadn't thought it would be easy.

She had spent her whole life knowing that monsters didn't die just because you wanted them to.

But gods, she had hoped.

Jon sat beside her, silent, but watching. He always did that—watched her like she might break, like if he looked away, she might slip through his fingers like mist.

She didn't mind it.

Not anymore.

Reynolds stood a few feet away, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes, his golden eyes flicking up every so often. He hadn't said much since she told them about the final memory—about how their father had killed her mother.

She wasn't sure what was worse. The truth of it—

Or the fact that she could almost understand it.

Not forgive it. Never that.

But she had seen the moment her father had broken as a boy. She had seen how he had been shaped, how he had been twisted.

And now… now, she was the one left standing in the aftermath of it all.

Arya sat cross-legged on the other side of the fire, flipping the winter rose Reynolds had given her between her fingers. She hadn't spoken much either, but she was thinking. Katrina could tell.

Finally, Jon broke the silence. "What now?"

Katrina exhaled, tilting her head back, staring up at the endless black sky.

"He's still out there," she murmured.

Reynolds let out a low breath. "Yeah. We figured."

Arya arched a brow. "And?"

Katrina's jaw tightened. "And now, we finish it."

Jon's expression didn't change, but his dark eyes flickered in the firelight. "For good this time?"

Katrina turned to him, her golden eyes steady. "For good."

Jon nodded once. "Then where do we start?"

Reynolds leaned back on his heels, wiping his blade clean. "The First Shadow is still pulling at him. We need to sever that connection completely."

Arya smirked. "Sounds easy enough."

Reynolds snorted. "Says the one who hasn't had a demon whispering in her head for years."

Arya's smirk widened. "You should try being a Stark sometime. Comes with the territory."

Katrina almost smiled. Almost.

Then the wind shifted.

And the world went still.

Katrina's breath hitched.

She felt it.

The darkness, the presence, the weight of something waiting.

Jon was already standing, his sword in hand, his eyes scanning the ruins around them. Ghost let out a low growl from the edge of the camp, his white fur bristling.

Reynolds rose to his feet, his hand on his dagger.

Arya twirled her blade between her fingers, tilting her head. "Looks like we don't have to find him after all."

A chill ran down Katrina's spine.

No.

He had found them.

And from the ruins, from the black depths of the First Shadow—

A voice.

Soft.

Cold.

Amused.

"Did you miss me?"