Chapter Text

The Awakening

These tiny pieces are drawn to me, and to others like me, like moths. The first time I saw them, I thought they were surveillance drones, but up close, they were nothing like our old technology, not really. The way they move seems organic and natural. They spin their shells like they are ruffling feathers; their little forward-facing lights blink like eyes.

"We're called Ghosts," one of them said to me once, hovering at my shoulder as I tended a cook-fire.

"Why?" I asked, gentle, casual. They're all different, these Ghosts. Many of them are like children, curious and friendly. Some are world-weary from the moment they're born.

The Ghost spun his silver petals, considering. "Because we're searching, I think."

 - Constellations: Waking 

The winds were harsh as the snow blew sideways and the trees whistled through what they called the Haunted Forst. There were no animals out there except for the great packs of roaming Direwolves hunting for prey hiding from the blizzard. If she were organic, or even adhered to normal physics, she would be struggling to fly straight. But she wasn’t organic, not really anyway, she was a Ghost, the Traveler’s last gift. Except she didn’t know what the Traveler was, or who the gift was for. She and others of her kind were brought forth from nothing, simply willed into existence with nothing but their shells, a vague memory of the great white body of the Traveler over a walled city lined in impossibly tall towers, and the knowledge that somewhere out there in the world waited someone who they would all bond with to fight the Darkness- or their corpse anyway. All of her friends who had bonded with someone had bonded with the dead, not the living, and she expected she’d do the same. As she flew, she scanned each body she sensed, looking for the corpse that she would make hers.

When men rose as Risen they became stronger, imbued with the powers of the Light and the Traveler channeled through their Ghost. They were paracausal and able to shape reality with the Light and their will alone and were unburdened by the memories and scars of their past lives. If the Risen had died recently, it often led to tearful reunions with loved ones looking on in disbelief at the returned dead, sometimes in fear, but always in tears when they inevitably realized they were forgotten. If by some miracle the Risen died, the Ghost could bring them back again, the same as they were as if nothing had happened.

She didn’t know how they chose who they bonded to either. She’d traveled across the world from the deserts of Dorne to the sprawling metropolises of YiTi and the plains of Essos, to the great mountains of the Vale, the icy shores of Ib, and the jungles of Sothoryos yet she’d not felt the connection she so desperately wanted. Her friends called her Bronze, for the color of her shell, and the crueler of the Ghosts she’d traveled with to search for their humans together had taken to calling her Bronze the been- around since she’d been in the group the longest.

Bronze had been nervous to fly beyond what they called The Wall, always weary of the whispers she could feel emanating from the far North, but she’d felt a pull, and here she was. She’d allowed some snow to build up on her bronze shell because she’d liked the way it looked and felt, making her feel like she wasn’t a fragment of an omnilithic god who was incapable of fulfilling her one purpose.

After several days of searching, she was prepared to head back. The blizzard was worsening, not that it affected her, but it wasn’t fun to fly through. The Northmen also had legends of Ice monsters who could raise the dead, not as Ghosts did but as thralls in their army that were said to come in these blizzards. She didn’t know why, but those stories instilled a deep sense of fear in her. Once she bonded, she’d be tied to someone who could control fire, gravity, and electricity, yet she couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding coming from deep within whenever she heard those stories. The Northmen were especially anxious when the Ghosts showed up, apparently, those ice monsters had shown up a decade before they did, and they thought the Risen were the Wights come again. The whole notion was a joke to her, sure, some Ghosts were dicks, and not all Risen were necessarily good people, but as a whole they protected others, and her Risen would protect anyone who needed protection.

Finally losing faith, Bronze decided to turn back. Mayhaps my Risen is still alive, she thought to herself. She didn’t know of any other Ghosts who’d bonded with someone who’d died since they arrived, but it could still be a possibility since there were as many Ghosts who were unbonded as bonded. That was it! She decided. She’d bond with a great king or queen somewhere, who was loved by all and who died in a tragic sacrifice for the greater good.  As she flew back the great melting wall of ice was visible through some sensors but hidden by the blizzard through others looming in the distance when she passed a body. She knew her Risen was still alive somewhere so she hadn’t bothered to scan it to see if it was hers, continuing to fly south. Two miles past it, however, she felt a nagging sense of what if, and with as close to a sigh as she could muster, turned around back to check, prepared for disappointment.

The body was buried deep in the snow, which had prevented much decomposition. He died wearing all black, with a warm cloak and boiled leather armor that the rag-tag group in the Night’s Watch often wore. Bronze knew he died long ago, but wasn’t certain how long. The more she scanned him, the more she wanted to know about him. It gave her a sense of fulfillment, like she was made for h-. She was his Ghost, she realized. Giddy with excitement, she expanded herself, exposing her core of light as her shell revolved around the light blue energy field and it expanded onto the body. Decomposed skin, muscles, and bone were regenerated and his curly black hair grew back out. Bronze didn’t want him to freeze, so she filled in the cuts and holes in his furs too. His body was lithe and strong, he was a warrior she knew. Someone who would fight back the forces of Darkness and protect the weak. Her newly bonded companion shot up, gasping for air, grabbing at himself as his grey eyes frantic as they shot open.

“It worked… You’re alive!” She shouted, hovering and moving around him to check if she’d messed up the revival somehow. “I’ve been looking for you for so long!” She cheered as he looked up at her, more curious than scared. Of course, he’s got to be brave too, she thought. “My name’s Bronze, and I’m a Ghost. Well, now I’m you’re Ghost. You’ve been dead a long time, and now you’re not.” He slowly stood, lifting himself from the snow. “Let’s start with your name.” She asked, before cringing to herself. “You remember your name, don’t you?”

“Yes…” Her new Risen replied, looking South as if trying to remember something. “My name is Waymar.”