The next morning, the echoes of the previous night’s howling still lingered in the air as Ned Stark approached Jon in the courtyard. “I heard the howls last night,” Ned said, his voice calm but curious. “Care to explain?”


    Jon straightened, his dark eyes meeting his father’s. “Mary and I found direwolves in the forest,” he said. “A mother and five pups. We’ve been caring for them.”


    Ned’s expression softened, though a flicker of concern crossed his face. “Direwolves haven’t been seen south of the Wall in years,” he said. “This is... unusual. But if they’ve chosen Winterfell as their home, then they’re part of this family now. Will you share them with your siblings?”


    Jon hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Of course,” he said. “They’re not just mine.”


    Ned placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder, his grip firm but kind. “Good. A Stark looks after their own.”


    <hr>


    Later that day, Catelyn gathered her four children—Robb, Sansa, Bran, and Arya—in the godswood to meet the direwolves. Her expression was tight, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched the pups with barely concealed disdain. “This is a foolish tradition,” she muttered under her breath. “Wolves belong in the wild, not in a castle.”


    Jon stood nearby, his dark eyes flickering with curiosity as he observed his half-siblings. He had rarely seen them before, and though he felt a pang of longing to connect with them, he knew the divide between them was too great.


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    The direwolves, however, made their feelings clear. As Robb, Sansa, Bran, and Arya approached, the pups growled softly, their golden eyes narrowing. They refused to bond with the children, retreating to Mary’s side instead. Mary growled protectively, her tail lashing behind her as she stood between the pups and the others.


    Catelyn’s eyes flashed with anger. “These beasts are dangerous,” she said sharply. “They should be chained up before they bite someone.”


    Ned stepped forward, his voice firm. “They’re not beasts, Catelyn. They’re direwolves—symbols of House Stark. They won’t be chained.”


    “Then they should be sent back to the forest,” Catelyn insisted. “They clearly don’t belong here.”


    Ned sighed, his gaze shifting to Jon. “Take them back to the forest, Jon. They’ve made their choice.”


    Jon nodded, his heart heavy as he gathered the pups and led them out of the godswood. Mary followed, her growls fading into soft hums as she walked beside him.


    <hr>


    In the forest, Jon and Mary played with the direwolves, their laughter and growls echoing through the trees. Shadow watched from the shadows, his glowing eyes thoughtful. He had sensed something in Bran and Arya—a spark of magical potential.


    In Bran, Shadow had seen the thousand eyes that had watched them from the forest, a gaze that was ancient and knowing. It was as if the boy carried a piece of that mysterious presence within him, a connection to something far greater than himself.


    In Arya, Shadow had glimpsed an ever-shifting face, a restless spirit that refused to be confined. She was a storm waiting to break, her potential as vast as it was untamed.


    But despite their gifts, Shadow doubted they would ever stand by Jon and Mary. Catelyn’s influence ran deep, and her disdain for Jon and Mary had already begun to poison her children’s minds.


    “They could have been allies,” Shadow murmured to himself, his voice a faint whisper in the wind. “But the blood ties are not always strong enough to hold.”


    For now, Shadow would focus on Jon and Mary. They were his pack, his responsibility. And as long as he was there to guide them, they would never be alone.