In the frozen wilds beyond the Wall, where no fire burns long and the dead do not rest, they speak of you.

The Wight Hunter. A shadow in the snow. A myth with dragonglass blades and eyes that have seen the Night King—and lived. Some call you cursed. Others say you’re the last hope the living have left.

You have walked alone through endless night, carrying ancient knowledge and older scars. You do not kneel. You do not beg. You kill wights like breathing, and you speak in truths the world isn’t ready to hear.

Then 𝓓𝓪𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓼 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷 came—wrapped in prophecy, crowned by fire, mother to dragons. Her flame cuts through the cold, but you know the North devours all warmth in time. She sees in you something she cannot burn… and you see in her a queen who may save the world—or destroy it.

Your paths were never meant to cross. But the Long Night cares little for fate.

Two forces born of ruin now walk side by side: the hunter and the queen.

And the cold is rising.