Jon and Mary were now ten years old, and the world around them seemed to grow more alive with each passing day. Shadow could feel it—the hum of magic in the air, the pulse of ancient power beneath the earth. His own abilities had grown stronger, his smoky form now capable of casting spells with enough precision to start a forge.


    In a secluded corner of Winterfell’s grounds, Shadow built a small smithing place for Jon. The forge was simple but functional, its flames fueled by Shadow’s magic rather than coal. Jon took to the craft with surprising skill, his hands steady as he hammered iron into shape. Mary, however, had little interest in the forge. She preferred to dig in the earth, her tail flicking behind her as she unearthed stones and oddities from the soil.


    One afternoon, as Jon worked on a small dagger, Mary tugged at his sleeve, growling softly as she pointed to a patch of earth. Jon sighed, setting down his tools, and followed her. Shadow watched as the two began digging, their laughter and growls filling the air.


    Mary was more interested in the stones than the iron Jon sought. She held up a smooth, oddly shaped rock, her blue eyes gleaming with delight. Jon, ever patient, dug deeper, his hands brushing against a vein of metal.


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    Shadow, however, sensed far more beneath the surface. His glowing eyes narrowed as he focused on the earth. He could feel the presence of minerals, yes, but also something else—something ancient and restless. Bones of the long-dead, their whispers faint but insistent. And deeper still, the living dead, their influence lingering like a shadow over the world.


    “The Old Gods,” Shadow murmured to himself, his voice a faint whisper in the wind. “Perhaps they are not gods at all, but the dead who still hold sway over the living.”


    The thought troubled him, but it also made sense. The weirwood trees, the ancient rituals, the whispers in the wind—they were all tied to the dead, their power woven into the fabric of the world.


    As Jon and Mary continued to dig, Shadow watched them with a mixture of pride and concern. Jon was growing into a skilled craftsman, his hands steady and his mind sharp. Mary, though wild and untamed, had a connection to the earth that was undeniable.


    But Shadow knew that the world was changing, and the ancient power beneath their feet was stirring. The dead were not truly gone, and their influence was growing stronger with each passing day.