#####Chapter 1

“They’re savages,” Royce said grimly, the cold wind biting through his cloak as the three Rangers rode cautiously through the dark tunnel that led away from the Wall. “One pack steals a deer from another pack, and soon enough, they’re tearing each other apart.”

Will shook his head, voice tense. “I’ve hunted wild packs all my life, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Not like what we found.”

Kaelyn Stormguard, riding at the front, kept his eyes sharp. “How close did you get, Will?”

Will swallowed hard. “As close as any man could without losing his head.”

Elara Stormguard urged her horse onward. “We should turn back to the Wall. This is beyond us.”

Royce’s icy eyes glinted. “Does the dead frighten you, Elara?”

“Our orders were to track the wildlings,” Kaelyn reminded her, voice steady. “We tracked them. They won’t trouble us again.”

“You don’t think someone will ask how they died?” Royce’s voice dropped into a sharper tone. “Mount up. I won’t say it twice.”

Grumbling, Elara obeyed.

Will’s voice lowered, haunted. “Whatever did this... it could do the same to us. They even killed the children.”

Royce sneered. “Good thing we’re not children. If you want to run south like a coward, be my guest but you’ll be beheaded for desertion. If I don’t catch you first.”

The three Rangers spurred their horses forward, their breaths misting in the frigid air. Soon, they returned to the clearing where the campsite once lay but now, it was almost empty.

“Your dead men have moved camp,” Royce muttered.

Will frowned. “They were right here.”

Kaelyn scanned the ground. “See where they went.”

Their swords were drawn, the silence broken only by the whistle of the wind and distant howls. Elara’s gaze caught on a splash of crimson caught in the snow, a scrap of red cloth.

“What’s that?” Royce asked, leaning in.

Elara hesitated. “It’s... a piece of a banner.”

Suddenly, a creature with piercing blue eyes emerged from the shadows behind Royce. The alpha wolf’s breath caught as it lunged forward. Royce spun, but the beast struck fast. The scene blurred to Will, who heard a man’s desperate cry. Horses stampede past him. A figure stood in the distance, frozen, its eyes glowing icy blue. The child that had hung from the tree was alive and changed.

Kaelyn ran, heart pounding, with Elara close behind. They stopped to catch their breath, panting in separate hiding spots. Kaelyn’s gaze caught a horrific sight; the beast severed Will’s head and tossed it toward him like a cruel warning.

Riders from Winterfell approached the shaken Kaelyn. The scene shifted to the castle courtyard where Bran, the young heir, pulled back an arrow and fired, frustration lining his face. Kaelyn Stormguard stood nearby, patting Bran’s shoulder with encouragement.

“Come on,” Kaelyn said. “Father’s watching.”

From behind, Alaric Stormguard and Elira Stormguard observed quietly.

Inside the great hall, Seraphine Stormguard practiced her embroidery with delicate precision, while Elara Stormguard struggled with her needlework, distracted by the laughter and sounds of archery practice outside.

Outside, Bran lined up another shot, this time hitting the bullseye dead center. He beamed, and Kaelyn and Robb laughed.

“Quick, Bran! Faster!” they called.

Rodrick Cassel and Joran Ironhart approached Alaric and Elira on the balcony.

“Lord Stormguard, my lady,” Cassel said urgently. “A guardsman from the hills has captured a deserter from the Night’s Watch.”

Alaric’s face tightened. “Ready the horses.”

Joran nodded and rode off.

Elira’s voice softened but firm: “Does he have to go?”

Alaric’s reply was hard: “He swore an oath.”

Cassel nodded in agreement. “The law is the law.”

“Tell Bran he’s coming, too,” Alaric added.

Bran stood beside Kaelyn and Robb, watching quietly as the prisoner was brought forward. The man trembled, muttering words that chilled them all.

“Moonborn. I saw the Moonborn. Moonborn came for us.”

Alaric’s gaze was heavy.

“I know I broke my oath. I should have warned the Wall. But what I saw ”

He struggled to speak. “Tell my family... I’m no coward.”

Alaric nodded solemnly and stepped forward.

The prisoner was placed on the chopping block. Alaric drew his gleaming blade, a family heirloom named Icefang. Bran looked away but Kaelyn gripped his arm.

“Don’t look away,” Kaelyn said softly. “Father will know if you do.”

Alaric spoke with grave authority:

“In the name of Hadrian Blackthorn, Alpha of the Moonborn and Protector of the Realm, I, Alaric Stormguard, Alpha of Northwatch, sentence you to die.”

The blade swung, and the head fell. Bran watched, wide-eyed.

Kaelyn’s voice was steady: “You did well.”

Kaelyn and Robb gathered arrows while Elira watched Kaelyn coldly. Kaelyn met her glare, then turned away.

Robb put an arm around Bran, leading him to their horses.

Alaric approached Bran.

“You understand why I did it?”

Bran swallowed. “Kaelyn said he was a deserter.”

Alaric’s voice was heavy. “The wilds are dangerous. But winter is coming.”

The cold night settled over Winterfell as whispers spread of the Moonborn legendary wolf spirits said to return in the darkest times. The wolf packs sharpened their claws, sensing a storm on the horizon.

The gates of Winterfell shut behind the riders as the prisoner’s headless body was taken away. Inside the great hall, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken fear and the weight of grim duty.

Elira Stormguard broke the silence. “Must Bran see such things? He’s barely a teen.”

Alaric met her eyes steadily. “He won’t be a boy forever, Elira. The wilds will be no gentler to him than to us.”

Kaelyn, still watching Bran, added, “He must learn. Winter is coming, and with it, things none of us can stop.”

Bran shivered, not from the cold but from the burden settling on his young shoulders.

The following morning, the great hall buzzed with preparation. Elira trained with Seraphine and the other young women, their needlework sharp and precise, but her mind was elsewhere. Outside, Kaelyn and Robb sparred with wooden swords, their laughter echoing against the stone walls.

Suddenly, a rider burst through the gates, breathless.

“Lord Stormguard!” he called. “Another has come from beyond the Wall. He claims to have seen the Moonborn alive.”

Alaric’s expression darkened. “Bring him to me.”

The hall quieted as a hooded figure was led forward. His face was gaunt, eyes wild.

“The Moonborn,” he whispered, voice trembling. “They’re real. They walk the land beyond the Wall. And they hunger.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened. “We will not let the wild packs claim our lands. Ready the wolves. Prepare the defenses.”

Bran’s curiosity got the better of him, and later that day, he slipped away to find Kaelyn.

“Kaelyn,” Bran said quietly, “what are the Moonborn?”

Kaelyn looked out over the courtyard, gaze distant.

“Legends say they’re ancient spirits, wolves born from the moon itself. They watch over the wild packs, but when angered, they become hunters of men.”

Bran swallowed. “Are they the ones who killed the men at the camp?”

Kaelyn’s voice was low. “Some believe so. Others think it’s worse. The wild packs are restless. A storm is coming.”

That night, as the moon cast silver light over Winterfell, Elira stood at the battlements beside Alaric.

“Do you believe the Moonborn will come for us?” she asked.

Alaric’s gaze was steady. “I don’t know what’s coming. But we must be ready.”

Suddenly, a howl echoed through the night long, mournful, and terrifying.

Elira’s hand tightened on the stone.

“They’re out there.”

The next day, in the training yard, Kaelyn took Bran aside.

“You must learn to fight,” he said firmly. “Not just with sword or bow, but with your mind and your heart. The wilds will test us all.”

Bran nodded, determination blooming in his eyes.

Elsewhere in Winterfell, Seraphine approached her brother Robb.

“Do you think Father knows what we face?”

Robb shrugged. “He’s a leader. He must always seem strong. But I see it in his eyes. He fears what’s coming.”

Back at the Wall, the Night’s Watch prepared for patrols beyond the ice. The threat of the Moonborn hung heavy, a shadow growing larger with each passing day.

Days later, Alaric summoned his closest counsel.

“The wild packs grow bolder. We’ve lost too many men. We must strike before they reach our lands.”

Rodrick Cassel spoke up. “A preemptive strike could spark war. Perhaps there’s another way.”

Alaric shook his head. “The wild packs will not negotiate. They hunger for our lands and our blood.”

In the quiet of the night, Bran dreamed of wolves with glowing eyes, their howls calling him to the dark woods beyond Winterfell.

He awoke with a start, heart pounding.

Then at the highest cliff stood a lone wolf beyond the Wall, its eyes reflecting the full moon, a symbol of an ancient power stirring once more.