Jon and Alys approached the Wall under the cover of darkness, the towering structure looming like a frozen giant against the night sky. The Black Gate, hidden deep within the Nightfort, was as eerie as Mance Rayder had described. Its ancient, weirwood face seemed to watch them as Jon whispered the words of the Night’s Watch oath, and the gate creaked open.


    As they stepped through, Jon felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if the Wall itself recognized him. The Nightfort was a place of shadows and whispers, its crumbling walls filled with the weight of centuries. Jon couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been here before, though he knew he hadn’t.


    “This place is... creepy,” Alys murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Jon nodded, his dark eyes scanning the ruins. “But it feels familiar, too. Like I’ve known it all my life.”


    <hr>


    When they reached Castle Black, the Night’s Watch greeted them with a mix of relief and suspicion. Lord Karstark, who had been waiting anxiously for news of his daughter, rushed forward and pulled Alys into a tight embrace.


    “Thank the gods,” Lord Karstark said, his voice trembling. “You’re safe.”


    Alys clung to her father, tears streaming down her face. “It was Jon,” she said. “He saved me.”


    Lord Karstark turned to Jon, his eyes filled with gratitude. “You’re a hero, boy,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “The North won’t forget this. When we return to Winterfell, there will be a feast in your honor.”


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    Jon shook his head, his expression humble. “I was just doing my duty,” he said quietly.


    Ned stepped forward, his grey eyes filled with pride and relief. “You’ve done well, Jon,” he said. “But there’s more to tell. Robb... he fell into a river during a skirmish with wildlings. He’s sick, and Maester Luwin says it will take time for him to recover.”


    Jon’s heart sank at the news. “Is he going to be all right?”


    Ned nodded, though his expression was grim. “He’ll recover, but it will take time.”


    <hr>


    Later, Jon sought out Mary, who had been staying near the Night’s Watch with the direwolves. She was playing with the pups, her tail flicking behind her as she growled and yelped. When she saw Jon, she bounded over, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement.


    Jon knelt beside her, his voice soft. “Mary, I need to tell you something. Shadow... he’s gone. He used too much magic to save me, and now he’s not here anymore.”


    Mary tilted her head, her expression unreadable. Then she growled softly, her tail wagging as if to say, He’s not gone. He’s just asleep.


    Jon frowned, his heart aching. “I hope you’re right.”


    <hr>


    Before leaving Castle Black, Jon visited Maester Aemon in his chambers. The ancient Targaryen was frail but kind, his milky eyes filled with wisdom.


    “You’ve done well, Jon Snow,” Aemon said, his voice soft but steady. “The Night’s Watch is in your debt.”


    Jon shook his head. “I was just doing what needed to be done.”


    Aemon smiled faintly. “Modesty is a rare trait in men. But you’ve earned this.” He handed Jon a stack of books, their covers worn but their pages filled with knowledge. “These are for you. A gift, for your service.”


    Jon took the books, his heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you, Maester Aemon.”


    Aemon’s smile widened, and he leaned back in his chair. “It’s good to know that the Targaryens are still of this world,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet peace.