Chapter Text
Jon's mind was ablaze with the Powers that his death had pulled with them, flowing like blood in his veins that he didn't possess in this state of in-between.
his memories, mind, and body were pulling themselves apart as he followed that which was tethered to him, that which was not his by right but still belong to him none the less. he saw another man, which some shred of humanity told him he knew, caught between The Web and the Lonely in equal measures before they disappeared from his vision entirely.
The remaining shreds of his humanity were pealed away layer by layer, as he became something truer to himself yet further from anything he had ever known, like a caterpillar finally emerging as a moth and spreading its wings for the first time.
They would make him whole. the Fears told him.
He would be what he was always meant to be.
The Fears joined in the Unholy Choir of Voices in what used to be ears, singing as The Weaver worked to bring them all together. To make them all One, and he would be the keystone to the masterpiece The Mother of Puppets had created. the final piece of the puzzle, it said. All they needed to do was wait for his apotheosis to take root.