"My conditions are simple. The first one actually benefits you. Once the dragonglass infused with magic is embedded into your body, you'll naturally inherit the power of the Greenseer.
This will sever your connection to the Night King. From now on, you won't need him to survive."
That was exactly what Kael came here for.
The Night King was doomed to die sooner or later, and Kael had no intention of going down with him.
"The second condition isn't difficult either," the Seer continued. "All I ask is that once you gain control over Westeros, you grant the Children of the Forest a place to live in the warmer South.
It can be a forest, a mountain range, even a swamp. Anywhere they can survive and rebuild. For you, it'll be no more than a flick of the wrist."
"Oh..." Kael chuckled. So that was it. The old man must have seen no future for the Children of the Forest through Bran, which is why he'd given up on him.
And that was true. When Bran inherited the Greenseer's power, he wandered the past and future carelessly. One night, in a dream, he got too close—and the Night King marked him.
The Night King also had the power to walk through dreams. With a single touch, he linked himself to Bran and traced him all the way to the Greenseer's hidden cave. The massacre that followed nearly wiped them all out.
In the end, Bran only escaped thanks to the sacrifice of Hodor—the loyal servant with giant's blood—who held the door at the cost of his life. But the Children of the Forest? Wiped out. The last spark of their kind, extinguished.
And Bran? He inherited everything and ascended to the throne of Westeros in the body of a cripple, while the Children paid the price.
Kael tugged at the half-decayed flesh hanging from his skeletal face and let out a laugh.
"That's really not too hard. Even if I never sit on the Iron Throne, if all they need is a patch of land, I can make that happen."
Compared to the Seer's gift, what he asked in return felt small—insignificant, even.
And yet, that small thing was something the Children had been denied for thousands of years. Humanity never welcomed them. The First Men had driven them beyond the Wall and sealed their lands, forbidding their return.
Which eventually forced the Greenseer's hand—to create the Night King, a monster meant to protect, that turned against them instead.
Seeing Kael agree, the Seer's ancient face softened with relief. He didn't fear betrayal—not anymore.
Once burned, twice shy.
He hadn't placed any failsafes on the Night King's dragonglass dagger. That was his greatest regret.
But this new dagger? Very different. Should Kael break his word, it would strip him of everything it granted. The Seer wouldn't say that aloud, of course—no need to sow doubt in Kael's mind.
"I trust you," the Seer said simply, eyes calm as he reached into a hollow in the roots beside him and drew out a dragonglass dagger.
Deep blue and glowing with an eerie, ethereal light, it looked like something born from the abyss.
"This is not like the Night King's dagger," the Seer said. "Ordinary dragonglass daggers are fatal to White Walkers. But this one… this one carries the hope of turning back into a human."
Kael froze.
He hadn't expected that. The Greenseer had such a power? A way to turn a White Walker back into a man?
Of course. If they had a way to create White Walkers, why wouldn't they have the means to reverse it?
But before Kael could revel in hope, the Seer continued:
"I said it's possible, not guaranteed. I've only ever crafted two of these special daggers—each one forged with blood and soul. Each with unique powers.
The one you hold now, it's only half the key. To truly become human again, you need the other. Only when the two are fused will you be able to switch freely between man and White Walker."
"The dagger's power is vast beyond measure. Even I cannot fully predict what it might become when united. You'll have to discover that on your own."
"And you already know where the other one lies—inside the Night King. Retrieving it won't be easy."
Not easy? That was an understatement. If he'd arrived centuries ago, he might never have stood a chance.
But now? Things were different.
Kael knew the ending. He knew the Night King's days were numbered. The ultimate villain with a god-tier entrance—only to be wiped off the board in a few short scenes, like some disposable NPC in a videogame.
Kael nodded without hesitation. That dragonglass dagger? As good as his.
From what he remembered, when Arya and Bran finally took down the Night King, his body shattered into ice, and no one bothered to dig through the remains.
That second dagger was probably still lying there, untouched, forgotten.
"I understand," Kael said, pounding his skeletal fist against his chest in a warrior's salute.
"I will keep my word. Once I have both daggers and the full inheritance, the Children of the Forest will be under my protection. From that day forward, they are my people."
The Seer's wrinkled face showed true satisfaction. He tossed the dagger to Kael.
"Pierce it into your chest. From that moment, it's yours."
Kael caught the dagger. It felt smooth and warm, more like soft jade than a weapon. A gentle blue halo pulsed from within.
He admired it for a moment, then didn't hesitate. He thrust it straight into his chest.
It wasn't difficult. He had no nerves to feel pain. His body was a patchwork of decay, bone, and scraps of sinew. Moving made him shed chunks of rotted meat as it was.
He simply guided the dagger between two exposed ribs—deep into where his heart should have been.
The moment it embedded, a flood of power surged through him. It was like being baptized in fire and lightning. A divine energy swept across every corner of his undead form.
Kael stood still, awestruck, as his mind was consumed by visions—visions of Westeros from its birth to its end.
He saw it all.
The rise of empires. The fall of kings. Every laugh, every cry, every battle etched into the land.
The Seer led him through the vision. They traveled through towering peaks and deep forests. Saw all the beauty and sorrow of the mortal world.
It felt like millennia passed, or perhaps only an instant.
When Kael opened his eyes again, they were not the same.
Now he understood.
The calm, all-knowing gaze of the Greenseer. The cold, unstoppable presence of the Night King.
It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't an act.
It was the weight of time. The indifference of eternity.
Kael had always been a common man at heart. Even with the power of another world, he carried the habits of a petty mortal.
But now, with the inheritance of the Greenseer flowing through him, he finally understood.
They weren't pretending to be gods.
They had simply outgrown fear, anger, and even death.
He remembered how both the Greenseer and the Night King met their ends. No panic. No despair. No rage.
Just calm acceptance.
Because for beings like them, death wasn't the end—it was just another page turning.
Everything dies. Even themselves. Even the land beneath their feet and the sky above their heads. The Night King only ever sought to bring that ending a little closer.