"Your time is up."

No matter how hard he tried, Torrhen was unable to move any part of his body. Even his eyes were fixed in place, and a sense of dread spread through his body.

Even his insides froze in place. His blood no longer flowed. His heart stopped beating. No air went in and out of his body. Nothing moved.

It was as if time was completely frozen.

The only thing that wasn't frozen was his consciousness, which he found strange. How was everything else frozen, but his consciousness perfectly fine?

"You who dared to kill your own parents are unworthy. Die."

With a single word of his, thousands of bodies disappeared in a puff of red mist.

With a look of displeasure on his face, he waved his hand ever so slowly, after which all the red mist dissipated slowly as well.

'How the hell does that work? He moved his arm slowly, so how did thousands of square meters of the stuff dissipate into nothing? Ha ha ha. Then again, why am I asking questions with the situation I'm in. It's not like any of this makes sense anyway.'

After the mist cleared, there were only a few people left in the expansive hall, a number small enough to count on your two hands. None of them seemed to be from Westeros though: some hat the brown skin and eyes of Asians, some had the dark skin of Africans and one of them even looked like a barbarian, with a height well beyond 7 feet and arms the size of Torrhen's upper body and a glistening, muscular body covered in bulging, pulsating veins criss-crossing under the tanned skin.

The giant being's ice-cold eyes stared down at them, his sombre gaze bearing down on them.

"Those of you that remain, salutations on you all for making it here. It brings me grief to force this burden on you all, but you shall now make your choice. Our race's survival depends on it."

'Wait wait wait wait! What's going on!? OUR race? You're HUMAN!!?? What the actual F**K is going on!

'Survival!? Is he talking about the Others? But that's Westeros. And what's with the Asians? Yi Ti? Leng? And the Africans as well. Norvos? The Summer Isles? Where do all these people come from!? And this frickin mammoth of a human too! Where in the world does such a human descend from!?'

Torrhen tried to look around and from what he could barely make out (given that his eyes couldn't move) was that no one else seemed flustered about what the giant before them was saying.

'CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME JUST WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON HERE!!??'

Loud tremors sounded out behind him as the giant waved his hand.

"Go and choose. Your fates await you."

And with the force of an explosion, Torrhen was propelled back. The wind resistance alone had torn the clothes on his back and ripped into his skin, his blood flowing around him. Everything blurred around him, rendering his vision pretty much useless. His surrounding darkened the further he went, until everything was pitch black once again.

'Okay, this is seriously unfair. How could something like this BE HIDDEN IN THE FUCKING LIBRARY OF ALL PLACES!!! OLD MAN GEORGE, I WANT TO KILL YOU! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS!!!'

As he was cursing to himself in his mind, a wolf appeared before him. It was majestic, with luscious fur. Even in this darkness, it was still very clearly visible, as if the darkness wasn't there to begin with. But the wolf was very familiar to Torrhen.

'Isn't that the same wolf?'

It was familiar for it was the same wolf he had seen in his dream when he first arroved in this world. Every detail was the same.

"Who or what are you?" Torrhen asked.

"What is power?" It replied.

'Fuck you! Can't you just answer the damn question!?'

"Where am I?" Torrhen asked.

"What is power?" It replied once more.

"What is going on?"

"What is power?" It asked again.

'Fuck your mother!'

Knowing that this wasn't going anywhere, he decided to try and answer the question being asked of him.

At first, the question seemed easy to answer, but as one thought deeper about the question, it was much more complex. There are many things in this world that could be said to be attributed to power. Wealth, authority, strength, religion, faith, love, monopolies, military and knowledge could all be said to be power. If all of these constitute power, what is power in and of itself?

It was at this point that he was reminded of a quote from Varys, a quote that is truly able to summarize all of these points.

'"Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less." Something that only resides where people believe it to, that could only be a dream or illusion. But saying that power is an illusion doesn't do the term justice. One can't just say it doesn't exist. It is as true as the existence of the sun and moon, an absolute truth.'

He stood there and pondered on the question for a long time, but was unable to think of an answer that could encompass everything, so he decided to say the best idea he could come up with.

"Power is an illusion that resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less. A shadow on the wall, a fleeting idea of human fantasy. Yet it is as essential to all living beings as sustenance and air to breath."

====================

Back in Winterfell, it's been a week since Torrhen disappeared. All news of what had transpired has been silenced, but news still got out that something mystical had appeared in the library at Winterfell. This prompted the Lord of Winterfell, Lord Eddard Stark to realize that there may be those in his retinue that could not be trusted. With this thought in mind, he had Lady Catelyn begin training maidservants that would be absolutely loyal to the House. He trusted the rest for now of his retinue for now, but this may change if there are issues in future.

There were many who asked to visit the library, but Lord Eddard had rejected any and all lords who requested entry into the library. Even King Robert expressed his intention to see the library, but Ned could only try his best to decline as respectfully decline, promising to send his gifts instead. Ned wouldn't mind allowing King Robert in, but knowing how his friend had a lifestyle steeped in debauchery, it was only a matter of time before he got too drunk one day and the secret in the library became common knowledge in King's Landing.

Ned himself sat at his desk in his study. Dinner had finished a couple of hours ago and the castle had already quietened for the night. Before him stood Maester Luwin.

"So you're absolutely sure that this is what we've been waiting for, Luwin?" Ned asked.

"Of course, my lord. The signs all add up," Luwin replied.

Within Winterfell, Maester Luwin was of the very few he could trust with the full information of what had taken place in the library. Even Lady Catelyn, his wife, didn't know the full story. The events were too sensitive and touched upon many of House Stark's secrets. But Maester Luwin was special, having being a maester only to facilitate the protection of these many secrets.

"Everything aligns with the prophecy of old. A boy of Stark blood, born without a soul, shall gain one and change at the most fundamental level. He will undergo the trial of the ancients and guide those of the First Men to its greatest heights, rediscovering the magic we have lost as a people," Luwin said.

Even though this sounded great, Ned still had a frown on his face as he tapped his desk in agitation.

"Yes, but it also means a period of great turmoil and peril is ahead of us. It's fine if he does as you said, but what will become of the rest of us?"

"I see, my lord. But it may not be him. How many in the North bear the blood of House Stark? Maybe it's young Torrhen, maybe it isn't. Prophecy is a double edged sword after all, it would only do us harm for us to try ascertain the details it speaks of."

"I see. That will be all, Luwin."

"Yes, my lord." With a bow, Luwin left the study, leaving Ned alone at his desk. Ned sighed deeply as he looked up at the ceiling, a weary look on his face.

'I hope Torrhen is okay.'