The Wolf Of The North

"Whoa! What the heck is this!?"

The wall trembled violently as a burst of cold wind began rushed out of it, blowing out all the candles in the library and plunging it into darkness. Torrhen heard windows shattering from the sheer force of the blowing wind. The wall seemed to open up down the middle and dust seemed to explode out of it.

Torrhen had to cover his eyes to protect them from the dust flying everywhere and the piercing winds around him. The whole process only took some seconds, but the air in the entire library was filled with dust and the temperature of the room became much colder. He began to cough and his eyes felt like there were ants crawling all over them as his limbs began to shiver.

Doubled over, he quickly made his way to the door and burst through it. He immediately took a deep breath, feeling grateful for the fresh air outside the library. He walked a few paces down the staircase before coming to a halt and sitting on the steps.

'Okay, there is definitely something important there. You don't make a secret door for nothing. Do I go by myself or tell my father?'

Torrhen was caught in a dilemma. He could choose to go back and explore whatever secret there was, but he would be liable to risk and may harm himself. He had no idea what was in there, and whatever he found could end up killing him.

He wasn't naive. This wasn't a game where he could respawn after dying, nor was it some story where the main character is surrounded by plot armour. Even if the life he's living was just a part of the books or TV show, he knew well enough that there was no such thing as plot armour. He had seen too many so-called 'main characters' die to know that.

His other choice of telling his father, in comparison, wasn't as dangerous as going in alone. He would go in with his father and maybe some of the guards. They were all veterans in battle, so they would be more alert towards danger.

The only downsides to this was that he may not be allowed to go in and he may not be allowed to keep whatever was found within. Winterfell is thousands of years old and, given by the sheer volume of dust that came flying out, that door hadn't been opened in at least hundreds of years. There had to be something powerful inside, something mythical.

'You know what, screw it! I'll go in alone. If it's too dangerous, I'll come back out and tell father about this place.'

He got up and quickly made his way back to the door. He knew he didn't have a lot of time as someone would be coming to the library soon. The books had to be well maintained, so people would have to regularly dusk them, clean any dirt from them and so on. Maybe maester Luwin may come to read a book. Either way, someone would be coming soon, so he didn't have much time.

He opened the door and was greeted by the general darkness that now engulfed the library. The stale smell of all the dust in the air wafted into his nose and his throat, making him cough a little. From the direction of the hidden door, there seemed to be an eerie white light shining very faintly, almost non-existent.

Turning to face it, he saw the opening in the stone wall. It opened up to reveal a face made of pale wood. Carved into the wood was a face not dissimilar to those of the Heart Trees of the old gods.

Its nose was arched and crooked. Its face was aged and covered with wrinkles, seemingly half dead. It was dangerously pale, making it look as if it were already dead. Its expression was forlorn, its open mouth bent downwards in its supposed sadness. Red shining trails came down from its closed eyes, resembling tears of blood.

'A weirwood gate!? Why is there a weirwood gate here?'

Torrhen couldn't be blamed for his confusion. The only other weirwood gate should have been in the abandoned Nightfort up at the wall. It's existence was dubious at best and surrounded by dark tales of human sacrifices related to the 13th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, the Night's King.

It's eyes suddenly opened and an oppressive aura weighed down on Torrhen as he stood before it. Its eyes were a very pale blue, the pale blue that could be seen in the irides of the blind. It was almost milky, and seemed very clouded.

'The one at the Nightfort never had bleeding eyes! What is this?'

"Who are you?" It began to talk, it's deep voice rumbling throughout the library.

'What do I do? Do I have to say something? Some kind of oath? At the Nightfort, you recite the oath of the Night's Watch to go through, what do I say here? Do I just say who I am?'

"I am Torrhen of the House Stark, son of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell," Torrhen said. "Winter is coming, and forgotten monsters come with it."

"Then enter," the door said. its lips opened, wide and wider and wider still, until nothing at all remained but a great gaping mouth in a ring of wrinkles. Only darkness could be seen within.

'Wow. That actually worked.'

Slowly, Torrhen made his way into the hole, fearful of what he may find.

--------------------

Torrhen's father Eddard was seated in his study, going through the revenue and writing down where the funds would go to when he felt something pressing down on him. There was nothing around him that did so, yet he felt it nonetheless.

He looked out the window to see if there was anything wrong. Looking towards the library tower, he saw something hazy floating out of one of its windows, and he saw no lights from any of the windows either. He had a feeling something was wrong.

He quickly put on his cloak and rushed out to the courtyard, where he was greeted by Jory and Rodrik Cassel. There were guards running around with weapons drawn, all of whom wore serious looks on their faces.

"What's going on over here?" he asked.

"I don't know m'lord. There was just a loud boom and dust started coming out of the windows," Jory replied. "We haven't gone inside yet and have only closed off the perimeter."

"Good," Ned said. "I want you to get a few men together, no more than 10. You'll accompany me to go in and see what's inside."

"M'lord, is that necessary?" Ser Rodrik looked concerned as he spoke.

"Normally it wouldn't be. But something doesn't sit well with me about this," He said.

"Aye, something feels wrong. Something powerful must be in there,I can feel it." Rodrik said. "M'lord, can you feel it too?"

Eddard didn't reply, only ruminating on Ser Rodrik's words.

'So I'm not the only one who can feel it. There must be something afoot. But what exactly could do this?'

Before he could think any further, he was interrupted by shouts from behind him.

"My lord!"

"Father!"

Eddard turned around and saw his ward Theon and his son Robb walking towards him. Theon held the ancestral sword Ice within his hands. They both looked very worried. Behind them, he could see Arya and Bran rushing out, followed by Sansa, Septa Mordane and Catelyn. All of them seemed to have some form of disp.l.e.a.s.u.r.e on their faces

"Father, what happened? What's this weird pressure?" Robb asked.

"I don't know. You kids stay with your mother while I go check," he said.

He took Ice from Theons hands and went to the door leading into the tower. He waited there for a few moments before Jory Cassel returned with 10 guards following him.

"We're ready, m'lord," Jory said.

"Alright then. Let's go, shall we?" Without waiting for a response, Eddard turned and walked into the tower.