Day Four – Evening

The path to Moat Cailin wasn't much of a path at all just mud, moss, and shallow water pretending to be a road. Jory walked ahead, humming under his breath, boots squelching with each step. Levi followed, doing his best not to slip.

The swamp pressed in around them. Trees arched overhead like withered old men, their branches draped with moss. Frogs croaked in the distance, and something large splashed far off to the left. Levi glanced toward the sound but didn't slow his pace.

"Still think this is a good idea?" he muttered.

"No," Jory answered with a grin. "But if we're lucky, we'll see ghosts."

Levi groaned. "If we're lucky, we won't."

They climbed a slight ridge, and for the first time, Levi saw it Moat Cailin.

It rose like a half-buried skeleton. Cracked towers leaned like they'd had too much to drink. Vines choked stone walls. Most of it was rubble, as if time itself had given up trying to hold it together. But parts still stood tall enough to catch the last gold rays of the setting sun.

Levi stopped. "So this is the place?"

Jory nodded. "What's left of it. Old fortress. Real old. My da says it was built by giants."

Levi squinted. "Giants? How'd they carry the stones?"

Jory shrugged. "Same way you carry a trout. One in each hand."

Levi couldn't tell if that was a joke or not.

They crossed an ancient stone causeway, most of it submerged in shallow water. A mist had begun to rise, clinging low to the ground. As they stepped between two broken pillars, the air grew colder.

"Creepy," Levi said. "Ten out of ten for atmosphere."

Jory gave him a look. "Ten out of what?"

"Never mind."

Suddenly, the wind shifted and Levi heard something.

Hooves.

Not many. But enough.

He froze. Jory heard it too he grabbed Levi's sleeve and pulled him behind a chunk of collapsed stone. They crouched low as the sound drew closer: horses walking slow, steady. No talk. Just armor creaking and hooves sucking in the mud.

Levi peeked around the rock.

Three riders.Cloaked. Armed. Careful.

Guards? Scouts?

They passed close enough for Levi to see one had a direwolf stitched into his cloak.

He held his breath. This was not part of the plan. He had come to explore, not to stumble into whatever this was.

Once the riders were gone, Jory whispered, "That's the sigil of House Stark."

Levi blinked. "the Sigil of what? and they're here for?"

"Or passing through," Jory muttered. "Either way, we need to be careful."

Levi hesitated. "We should leave."

But Jory was already walking forward. "Or we find out why they're here."

Levi muttered a curse and followed.

They kept low, weaving between stone and shadow. The deeper they went into the ruins, the more intact the structures became ancient halls with broken archways, staircases leading to nowhere, doors long since rotted away.

And then they saw it: a camp.

Hidden inside the largest intact tower, torches lit a perimeter. Men in cloaks moved in and out. A banner hung above a doorway weather-worn, but unmistakable.

A gray direwolf on white.

House Stark.

Levi's mouth went dry.

Jory tugged his arm. "We go back. Now."

But it was too late.

A voice called out.

"You there. Step forward."

Two men emerged from the mist, spears in hand, eyes sharp.

Levi froze. Jory cursed under his breath.

"State your names," one of the guards said.

Levi looked at Jory.

Jory looked at Levi.

Neither answered.

The second guard stepped closer. "We don't like silence. Speak, or you'll be dragged inside like thieves."

Levi swallowed. "We're just travelers."

"From where?"

"Bogwater," Jory said quickly. "We came to see the ruins. That's all."

The first guard narrowed his eyes. "Then you'll come inside and speak with the young Lady and young Lord."

Jory flinched. "Young Lady? young Lord?"

The guard didn't answer. He just pointed toward the tower.

Levi sighed. "Great. I knew I should've stayed home."

The guards led them forward. Torches flickered. Cold air bit at Levi's neck. Somewhere high above, a raven cawed.

And just before they stepped into the tower, Levi looked up at the stone above the entrance.

It had once held a carving. Worn now. Broken.

But he could still make out a pair of eyes.

Watching.