Ethan did not answer immediately.
He had imagined this moment more times than he cared to admit.
Usually it involved considerably more fanfare, perhaps a glowing throne, an old man with a beard that reached his knees, or some impossibly beautiful goddess asking him to save a world.
Instead, he was speaking to a voice in absolute darkness.
It was…
refreshingly understated.
“So,” he said at last, “I’m assuming this isn’t one of those situations where I wake up as a random farmer and get eaten by wolves before my sixteenth birthday.”
“No.”
“Good.
I was never particularly fond of wolves unless they were carrying a Stark banner.”
The voice ignored the remark.
“You shall be reborn in the world you desired.”
“The world of ice and fire.”
“Yes.”
Ethan let out a slow breath.
He had expected excitement.
Instead he felt an odd calm settling over him.
This was no longer something to fantasize about on sleepless nights.
It was real.
And real things had consequences.
“There are conditions.”
“Of course there are.”
“There are always conditions.”
“You understand quickly.”
“I’ve read enough myths to know that anything offered freely usually costs the most.”
The darkness remained silent for a moment before the voice spoke again.
“You shall live five lives.”
Ethan nodded once.
“Not simultaneously, I assume.”
“No.”
“They will follow one another.”
“Yes.”
“Same family?”
“The same bloodline.”
That made sense.
It would have been strange to spend one life as a Stark and the next as a Martell.
Every life would build upon the last, each inheriting the world shaped by the one before it.
“Can I choose the bloodline?”
“You shall.”
“And the point at which my first life begins?”
“You shall.”
Ethan smiled faintly.
That answered several questions at once.
“The remaining lives?”
“They shall follow the course of history.”
“The course of history?”
The voice answered with patient certainty.
“Time is a river.”
“You may choose where to step into it.”
“But after that…”
“You drift with its current.”
Understanding dawned almost immediately.
“If my first life begins before the Andal invasions, the second might be centuries later, but never centuries earlier.”
“Correct.”
“If I begin with Torrhen Stark…”
“You shall never know a life before Torrhen Stark.”
“So I only choose once.”
“Yes.”
He liked that.
There was a certain elegance to it.
No hopping backwards because a later life had gone poorly.
History moved only one way.
“As it should,” Ethan murmured.
The voice continued.
“Each life grants one boon.”
Ethan’s expression became thoughtful.
“Define ‘boon.'”
“A gift beyond the ordinary.”
“Strength?”
“Possible.”
“Intelligence?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“No?”
“Intelligence is your own.”
“…Fair enough.”
“What you receive is opportunity.”
The words lingered.
Opportunity.
Not power.
Ethan found himself liking the distinction.
“Explain.”
“If you choose strength, you shall not awaken capable of felling giants.”
“I was hoping for slightly less than giants.”
“You shall possess extraordinary potential.”
The darkness remained silent for a heartbeat before continuing.
“If another man trains faithfully for ten years, and you do the same, you shall surpass him.”
“But if I spend those ten years eating pies…”
“You shall simply become a large man.”
Ethan nodded approvingly.
“That’s…
surprisingly fair.”
“It is intended to be.”
He considered that for a moment before asking the question he cared about most.
“And knowledge?”
The answer came immediately.
“You shall not awaken knowing everything.”
“I assumed as much.”
“Knowledge given without effort is seldom understood.”
“I agree.”
“You shall possess access.”
The words puzzled him.
“Access?”
The darkness shifted—not visibly, but in the strange way that made Ethan feel as though an idea rather than a thing had moved.
“Imagine an endless library.”
That immediately caught his attention.
“Every craft.”
“Every craft.”
“Every science?”
“Known to your world.”
“Medicine?”
“Yes.”
“Engineering?”
“Yes.”
“Metallurgy.”
“Yes.”
He couldn’t help smiling.
“So I simply think of something and instantly understand it?”
“No.”
The answer was so immediate that Ethan almost laughed.
“You search.”
He blinked.
“…Search?”
“As one searches through books.”
That was…
unexpected.
“You shall find texts.”
“Only texts?”
“Definitions.”
“Theories.”
“Methods.”
“No mastery.”
Ethan rubbed his chin.
“So if I wanted to make steel…”
“You would know where to search.”
“You would find the methods.”
“You would still need to understand them.”
“And remember them.”
“Yes.”
The implications unfolded rapidly.
If he spent twenty years studying agriculture, those twenty years remained his own achievement.
If he merely skimmed a few pages and forgot everything…
The boon could not save him.
“I like that,” he admitted.
“It prevents laziness.”
“It rewards diligence.”
More importantly…
It rewarded curiosity.
The voice spoke again.
“Only what truly becomes yours shall follow you.”
Ethan looked up.
“The boon ends with each life.”
“But what I learn doesn’t.”
“What you have genuinely learned cannot be taken from you.”
A slow grin spread across his face.
That…
That changed everything.
Knowledge wasn’t merely useful.
It compounded.
Every life could become a school for the next.
The fifth man would stand upon the shoulders of the first four.
Not because of magic.
Because of experience.
“There is another matter.”
Ethan nodded for the voice to continue.
“You shall not awaken as a stranger.”
“The language.”
“Yes.”
“You shall speak as your people speak.”
“So if my first life is among the First Men…”
“You shall know the Old Tongue.”
“And if centuries later the Common Tongue has replaced it?”
“You shall speak the Common Tongue.”
“No memories?”
“None.”
“No customs?”
“None.”
“No inherited knowledge?”
“None.”
“You are given only the means to live naturally within your own age.”
He appreciated that.
The last thing he wanted was someone else’s memories cluttering his own.
The silence returned for several moments.
Finally Ethan folded his arms.
“One question.”
“You may ask.”
“Why me?”
It was the first question that truly mattered.
The darkness remained still for so long that Ethan briefly wondered whether he would receive an answer at all.
At last, the voice spoke.
“Many desire another life.”
“I imagine they do.”
“Many believe they could rule wisely.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’ve met plenty of them online.”
“Few are willing to surrender their own life for another.”
The words carried no emotion.
Only fact.
“You acted without certainty.”
“You gained nothing.”
“You expected nothing.”
Ethan lowered his gaze.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“No.”
“You simply chose.”
He let out a quiet breath.
“I still think it was stupid.”
“It was.”
That answer came so quickly Ethan couldn’t help laughing.
“I appreciate the honesty.”
“Courage and foolishness have always shared a narrow border.”
The darkness seemed to stretch endlessly around him.
Then the voice spoke once more.
“You possessed both.”
For reasons Ethan couldn’t quite explain…
He found himself smiling.
“Yeah.”
“I suppose I did.”
The silence that followed no longer felt empty.
It felt like the pause before the first page of a very long story.