The wind howled across the red sands of Dorne, carrying with it the scent of blood and despair. The war has taken a toll on all of westeros. Ned Stark dismounted his horse, his heart heavy with dread. Beside him, Howland Reed adjusted his grip on his spear, his eyes scanning the Tower of Joy for any sign of danger.


    A raven had brought word of Lyanna’s presence here, but the absence of guards at the entrance filled Ned with unease. No one guarding the entrance. I expected the worst already. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, though he prayed he wouldn’t need it.


    The two men entered the tower, their footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The air was thick with tension, and the silence was deafening. When they reached the room at the top, Ned’s worst fears were confirmed.


    Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, lay dead on the floor. Dawn, his legendary blade, was clutched in his own hand, its edge stained with blood. He slit his own throat, Ned realized, his stomach churning. The sight was both tragic and unnerving. What could have driven such a noble knight to take his own life?


    In the corner of the room, Lyanna lay on a bed of bloodstained sheets. Her face was pale, her breaths shallow. She turned her head weakly as Ned approached, her eyes filled with pain and regret.


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    “Ned…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    “I’m here, Lyanna,” Ned said, kneeling beside her. His voice trembled as he took her hand in his. “I’m here.”


    Lyanna’s grip tightened, her nails digging into his palm. “Promise me, Ned… Promise me you’ll take care of them…”


    Ned’s eyes widened as he noticed the two infants lying beside her. Twins—a boy and a girl. The boy was quiet, his dark eyes staring up at Ned with an unsettling calm. The girl, however, was unlike anything Ned had ever seen. Her skin was as pale as snow, her eyes a piercing blue, and… a tail? Ned blinked, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him.


    “Jon… and Mary…” Lyanna murmured, her voice fading. “They are… yours now…”


    Ned nodded, his throat tight. “I promise, Lyanna. I’ll protect them with my life.”


    Lyanna’s lips moved, forming one final word before her breath stilled. “Shadow…”


    The room fell silent, save for the soft cries of the twins. Ned stared at Lyanna’s lifeless body, his mind reeling. Shadow? What did she mean?


    As he gathered the infants in his arms, he felt a chill run down his spine. Unseen by him, a shadow stirred in the corner of the room, its form shifting and writhing like smoke. It lingered for a moment, watching Ned and the twins, before silently following them as they left the tower.


    The shadow had found its new purpose, its new family.