[Day 8: Dream] Gathering of Crows

[Dyana Marsten]

The valley was a gauntlet. The cliff walls seemed to rise higher at every moment, in the dark of the night, and she could see a tower burning at the far end of it.

A tower burning, and the charge. The screams, the glinting axes, the sound of their feet stomping the ground as they came closer.

Filthy men, with filthy hair and filthy beards, dressed in filthy rags and with filthy breaths smelling of filthy ale. They raised their filthy blades at her, a chopping ax each, and she knew she had a shield, and a sword. She had to hold the pass.

And the filthy men came, one by one, and she cut them down, one by one. They didn't touch her. They screamed, and swung their axes at her, and spit on her face, but if she'd just paid attention... they never touched her. Like they were trying not to, while trying to. And she cut them all down.

And they weren't filthy men anymore. Each was a dark shape moving in the night, nearly unseen. They had suits of dark plate, covering them from head to toe, and wicked maces lined with spikes. They advanced silently, stepping over the bodies of their fallen to attack her, but they too seemed to never be able to touch her. Her sword cut through their steel like butter, but their blood was as dark as the sky. The sky, which had no stars, and no moon - the only light was the fire, in the distant tower, but it was somehow enough to illuminate it all.

She felled a hundred, two hundred, three hundred and more of them, and a pile of the blackguards blocked the valley, a wall of bodies. She walked up to one, and lifted his visor, and he was the Wrecker, Jon Cobb. And a second one, was a face she didn't recognize. Another one was Daveth Coldbrook.

Another was Corrine, and another was Gwyneth. Their bodies, inside the armor, were the strong bodies of seasoned warriors, but their faces were those of the girls. She kept lifting the visors, and another one was Corrine, and another Gwyneth. Most of them were Corrine and Gwyneth, and some were different faces she didn't recognize, all male. Stern-looking men, kind-looking men, bearded men and shaved men, some with big noses, others with small eyes, and she knew none of them, and she realized they were all Mikael. She knew, then, she didn't know Mikael's face. However much she tried, none felt right.

And when all visors were lifted, the mound of bodies of Corrines and Gwyneths and Mikaels, led by a single Jon and a single Daveth, stirred. The corpses stood up, and stared at her, and it was darker. There was no light, no fire in the distance, but she could still see. There was no sound but the shuffling of greaves on the dirt, and the army of wraiths came for her.

Her sword broke on the first armor she hit, and melted. She no longer had a shield, or clothes. She was naked in the valley, and she realized the valley ended behind her. The pass she was holding led to nowhere.

One by one, the wraiths came, and pierced her with black blades that were no longer maces, and walked past her to disappear into the night. They came, one after the other, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred and more. All blades went through her, and no two pierced the same flesh, but she did not die. She felt the cold steel each time, but her senses wouldn't be numbed, and she wouldn't succumb.

And as the last Mikael pulled his blade free of her, she had no skin;
a flayed corpse, but a living one. And she screamed into the night.

[Septon Arlyn]

She hears a chokleing sound. Something between a laugh and a cry, she turns behind her and sees a small form hunched and naked. Running over to the form, leaving a painful trail of bloody footprints. She turns the small form towards her, leaving a bloody handprint from her flayed flesh on its shoulder. She sees the wreakers piercing blue eyes look up at her accusingly from her nose and cheek bones. A scowl that she recognizes as her own glaring at her, bloody tears running down its cheeks. you failed your duty lady Isobel's voice trumpets down into her brain, bypassing her ears entirely. you where meant to bring strength into this House, instead you liked it

"
It that my ..."
The question is most on dyanas lips

YESSSSSSSSSSSS hisses the lady's voice as she turns into a dragon. Green scales rattling in the moon lights surrounding her. Enveloping her. Suffocating her.