The air was thick with tension as the group broke camp at dawn. The Wildlings kept their distance from Jon and Katrina, speaking in low murmurs and casting wary glances their way. Ghost prowled silently at Jon's side, while Dream perched on Katrina's shoulder, her tail flicking nervously. The shadows of the previous night's trial hung over them all like a storm cloud.

The group moved cautiously through the dense forest, the trees towering around them like silent witnesses. Thane led the way, his broad shoulders hunched as if bracing for another confrontation. Katrina walked beside Jon, her spear resting across her shoulders, her expression unreadable.

"You didn't have to step in last night," Katrina said after a long stretch of silence, her voice low.

Jon glanced at her. "He wasn't going to listen to reason. You saw that."

"I could've handled it," she replied, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

"I know," Jon said simply. "But you shouldn't have to."

Katrina opened her mouth to argue, but a sharp whistle from Thane cut her off. The group froze, every hand reaching for a weapon as Thane pointed ahead.

"There," he said, his voice low. "Something's up ahead."

Jon and Katrina moved to the front of the group, their eyes scanning the dense foliage. At first, Jon saw nothing but the shifting shadows of the trees. Then, through a break in the branches, he spotted it: a massive stone altar, weathered by time and covered in intricate carvings.

"That's Wildling work," Katrina said, her voice tight. She stepped closer, her golden eyes narrowing as she studied the carvings. "It's old. Older than any clan I've heard of."

The altar was surrounded by a circle of standing stones, each one etched with runes that seemed to shimmer faintly in the morning light. The air around it was colder, heavier, as though the very ground carried the weight of something ancient and powerful.

"This isn't just an altar," Jon said, his voice quiet. "It's a place of power."

Katrina nodded, her fingers brushing over one of the runes. "These carvings… they tell a story. About fire and shadow."

Thane stepped forward, his axe resting on his shoulder. "What does it mean?"

Katrina hesitated, her gaze flicking to Jon before returning to the altar. "It's a prophecy," she said finally. "One my father used to talk about. He believed it was about him."

"What kind of prophecy?" Jon asked, his voice steady.

"The fire and the shadow," Katrina said, her tone bitter. "Two forces that will either save the North… or destroy it."

The group fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them. Ghost let out a low growl, his ears flattening as he stared at the altar. Dream hissed softly, her green eyes fixed on the carvings.

"It's tied to you, isn't it?" Thane said, his voice accusing. "This is about your family. About him."

"Yes," Katrina admitted, her golden eyes hard. "But it's not my fault, and it's not my choice. He made this mess, and I've been cleaning it up ever since."

Thane's grip on his axe tightened, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned away, his shoulders tense as he muttered something under his breath.

Jon stepped closer to Katrina, his voice low. "What else do you know about this prophecy?"

Katrina shook her head. "Not much. Just fragments. My father believed he was the fire, and he thought he could use me to control the shadow. He said together, we'd reshape the world."

Jon's jaw tightened. "And the shadow?"

Katrina's gaze darkened. "It's not just a force. It's alive. It feeds on fear, pain, and death. My father thought he could control it, but I think it's been controlling him all along."

Jon reached out, his hand brushing against her shoulder. "We'll stop him, Katrina. Whatever it takes."

She looked at him, her expression softening. "You're too good for this world, Snow. You know that?"

Before Jon could respond, Ghost let out a sharp bark, his body tensing. The group turned as one, their weapons raised, as a figure emerged from the shadows.

It was an old woman, her face lined with age and her eyes milky white. She was draped in tattered furs, her movements slow but deliberate. She stopped just outside the circle of stones, her gaze fixed on Katrina.

"You carry the fire," the woman said, her voice rasping like dry leaves. "And the shadow follows you."

Katrina stiffened, her grip on her spear tightening. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled faintly, her teeth yellowed and crooked. "I am a keeper of the old ways. And I know your father, child. I know what he seeks."

Jon stepped forward, Longclaw raised. "What does he want?"

The woman's gaze flicked to him, her smile fading. "To finish what he started. To awaken the shadow and bind it to the fire. Together, they will consume the living and raise the dead."

Katrina's voice was tight with anger. "And how do we stop him?"

The woman's milky eyes returned to Katrina. "The fire within you is the key. But it is also the curse. If you cannot control it, it will consume you."

The air grew colder, the wind howling through the trees. The old woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "Beware the price of fire, child. For it is steep, and it spares no one."

Before anyone could ask more, the woman dissolved into ash, carried away by the wind. The forest fell silent once more, the weight of her warning hanging heavy in the air.

Katrina turned to Jon, her expression grim. "Well, Snow," she said, her voice tinged with bitter humor. "Looks like we're running out of time."