Viserys wore a timely look of confusion: “The Long Night?
Winter?
But it is clearly summer right now, and the maesters say it will be a long time before the seasons change.”
“Appearances are always deceptive; beyond the North, winter is awakening.” Bloodraven’s voice grew urgent.
“You must go north, beyond The Wall.
There, you can gain the power to fight the darkness.”
“Outside The Wall?” Viserys shook his head fiercely like a frightened child.
“No!
What is there beyond The Wall besides savage, uncivilized wildlings, man-eating giants, and a cold that can freeze your bones to the core?
I won’t go to a ghost place like that.
I want to stay, learn masterful swordsmanship from Ser Barristan, and become a great knight in the future.”
“Swordsmanship?” Bloodraven’s tone carried a sneer.
“How can swordsmanship fight the winter?
What you need is an older power.
The heritage of the Greenseer can make you understand all things.
Although I cannot see through you, I recognize your bloodline, and I feel that you should inherit this power and responsibility.”
It was here.
Viserys’s heart stirred, but on the surface, he only blinked in confusion.
“Greenseer?
It sounds like some kind of forest witchcraft.
I worship the Seven; how could I possibly learn the things of the old gods.”
“This is magic, child,” Bloodraven explained patiently.
“One of the oldest powers.
It allows you to see through the eyes of the weirwood tree, lets you dive your consciousness into the dreams of beasts and birds to swim with them, and can even let you catch the fragmented reflections cast by the past and future into the river of time.”
Viserys pretended to be swayed.
“Magic?
Like how our Targaryen ancestors rode dragons?
Can I really learn it?”
“Dragons are magic of blood and fire, the ultimate of destruction and rebirth.
But the Greenseer is magic of roots and earth, the eternity of perception and memory.
Yet when traced back to their sources, they both belong to the same mysterious origin.”
The third eye of the raven on Bloodraven’s shoulder suddenly lit up.
“Close your eyes and feel this forest. This story is hosted at g.com.
Do not look with your eyes; feel with your heart, and perceive everything here with the tentacles of your soul.”
Viserys closed his eyes as instructed, but his heart was highly vigilant.
He did not completely open his body and mind to follow Bloodraven’s guidance, but instead tried to perceive and mobilize the soul power belonging to another world deep within his own soul.
At first, all he felt was darkness, but when he concentrated and tried to mobilize the soul’s deep perception of energy, the surrounding world began to present itself in a new form:
That huge weirwood tree was no longer just a tree; it turned into a deep and warm red-and-white ball of light, as if containing countless tiny whispers and sighs within.
That was the memory precipitation spanning thousands of years; the warm snow beneath his feet presented a cold, nearly transparent blue ball of light, like the deathly stillness of all things perishing; even in the air, countless tiny, vibrant green light spots floated about, which was the purest energy emitted by life itself.
“I…
seem to have seen some colors…” he said softly, and this time it was not entirely a disguise.
This wonderful visual experience truly shocked him.
A trace of surprise flashed in Bloodraven’s red eyes.
“Faster than I imagined.
Now, try to catch those green lights with your mind.”
Viserys tried to communicate with those green light spots once again.
At first, these light points scattered like a frightened school of fish, but when he held his breath and concentrated, the light points began to slowly converge toward him.
A cool current of consciousness flowed through his mind, and at the same time, he faintly heard the chirping of birds in the distance—not through his ears, but appearing directly in his mind.
“Very good.” Bloodraven’s voice carried a trace of exhaustion.
“But this is just the beginning.
To truly master this power, you still need…”
“Do you need to roll your eyes?” Viserys suddenly opened his eyes and interrupted, his face full of innocent curiosity.
“I heard that wizards have to roll their eyes when casting spells; they roll their eyeballs back and leave only the whites of their eyes, which looks extremely stupid.”
Bloodraven was clearly choked by this abrupt remark, and even the raven on his shoulder almost lost its footing.
He opened his good eye and stared fixedly at Viserys.
“Nonsense!” Bloodraven’s voice carried a sense of offended anger.
Getting angry just like that?
It seems this old monster’s mastery of cultivating composure hasn’t reached completion yet.
Viserys stopped fooling around and instead used his consciousness to communicate with the light spots in the air once again—let’s call them elements for now.
He fused his consciousness with the elements and probed toward the nearest weirwood tree.
In an instant, a complex torrent of information rushed into his mind: a snow-covered forest, blurred figures jumping beside a huge bonfire, The Wall towering into the clouds and emitting a cold blue light…
Countless fragmented images squeezed into his consciousness.
He groaned softly, turned pale, and hurriedly cut off the connection.
However, he knew that he had initially comprehended magic and even cast Greensight. New chapters come out on g.com first.
“You…” For the first time, shock appeared in Bloodraven’s red eyes.
“Just now you…”
Without waiting for him to finish speaking, Viserys immediately covered his head and groaned with exaggerated acting, “My head hurts so much!
There are so many voices calling out!
I’m not learning anymore!”
Bloodraven stared at him fixedly, the red light in his single eye flickering violently.
After a long silence, he slowly spoke, “Your talent is extraordinary.
But this power needs guidance, otherwise it will backlash against its master; you need the complete heritage.
Go north…”
“I won’t go north.” Viserys acted like a willful child.
“I already have a bit of a feel for this magic; what right do you, a bastard exiled by your family, have to try to command me?” Before his voice fell, Viserys utilized the ability he had just learned and unilaterally cut off the connection, not giving Bloodraven a single second to react.
King’s Landing, Red Keep
Viserys sat up suddenly from the bed, the sky outside the window faintly bright.
He was soaked in cold sweat, and his temples were still throbbing, but a glowing excitement burned within his pale purple eyes.
Heh, not only was he fine, but he had turned misfortune into a blessing and learned a bit of the Greenseer’s ability.
Moreover, he had already mastered the method and could completely explore these abilities slowly by himself, without having to go north to accept the memories of those past Greenseers.
Viserys looked out the window, and the excitement born from catching a glimpse of the threshold of magic quickly cooled down in his heart.
A Greenseer?
He thought of Bran Stark in the original work, who ended up sitting in a wheelchair with empty eyes, opening and closing his mouth with “we”.
Was that still Bran?
He was probably already pickled through and through by the thousands of years of memories of that old monster Bloodraven, turning into a jar container filled with aged past events.
“Heritage?” Viserys twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing a sneer.
Calling it something nice—isn’t it just finding a young body, stuffing one’s own moldy memories into it, and continuing to drag out an ignoble existence?
Swallowing the memories of the five-year-old Viserys now gave him no burden, since he was an adult after all.
But if it were the other way around, flushed over by a torrent of thousands of years of memories, how much of his own consciousness could remain?
By then, wearing the name of Viserys while thinking the thoughts of a Greenseer—what difference would that be from dying again?
Anyway, it was enough that the benefits were in hand now.
As for those historical memories smelling of earth and weirwood trees, they should be left to that fool of House Stark who craved a “great mission.”
He was quite satisfied with his current little life and the thoughts belonging to “Alex” in his head; there was no need to rush up and become someone else’s container.
Furthermore, Bloodraven still had the Valyrian steel sword passed down by House Targaryen—Dark Sister.
When he counterattacks Westeros in the future, he must go find him and take this sword back.
For now, let’s just leave it with him for safekeeping.