The chamber smelled of smoke, blood, and fear. Castle Black was no longer one brotherhood but a splintered carcass, wildlings in confusion, Stannis’ men holding the yard and the walls under the orders of Lady Melisandre trying to gain control of the situation, Night's Watch mutineers had taken to the mess hall. Melisandre’s chants had filled the room where some black brothers had taken Lady Commander Jeyne Snow's body. The red woman's voice rising like fire’s crackle in the dark. Some Night's Watch members watching in caution as she performed the ritual in the name of some foreign god.

Then Jeyne Snow gasped, the breath tearing into her chest like knives, her body arching as if wrenched back from the grave itself. Her hair, once black, spilled in a white tangle across the table, her grey eyes now a unnatural red. The brothers who had stayed loyal flinched, half in awe, half in terror. She remembered. The faces, the knifes. She also remembered who she was. Lady Commander of the Wall. It was her duty to deal with dissent.

She sat up, pale hands trembling before steadying into iron resolve. Her voice rasped like she was hoarse. She held out her hand.

“Longclaw.”