Jon Snow took one more staggering step towards the dark shadow huddled before him. The light from the sword in his hand illuminated a pale face, framed by short, dark hair. A face he had not been sure he would ever see again. The face stared at him in awe and terror. "Jon," it whispered.

He stared down in amazement at his little sister. "Arya?" he breathed. "Is that really you?" He sank down to the floor and pulled her into his arms, sure that she would disappear the second he touched her. But when he opened them, there she still was. "You survived the attack on King's Landing?"

Arya leaned back, her face even with his. "Barely. If it was not for our brother, I would not be here now."

"If it was not for... who? Bran?" he asked, confused.

Arya laughed. "I will explain another time. Right now, though... you're alive," she said, still in wonder.

"I am... although how, I do not know," he said, gazing dazedly around the room. "I feel as though I have woken up from a deep sleep."

Arya stood, pulling Jon up with her. "I must tell Bran what happened. Although," she said, smirking, "I have a feeling he already knows."

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Jon sat in the great stone tower, staring at the now cold sword in his hands. It was no longer ablaze. Arya was preparing horses and supplies for them to return to Winterfell, giving him a moment to ruminate. His mind was still reeling from the events of the last hour, unsure how or why any of it had happened.

Across from him, Drogon snorted, a jet of steam rising from his nostrils. Slowly, the beast uncurled his long, reptilian body until Jon glimpsed a still, small shape, it's white blonde hair glowing in the moonlight from above. His blood ran cold as he recognized Daenerys. He stood to rush to her side, when Drogon let out a warning growl.

Jon froze, eyes darting back and forth between Daenerys' body and the dragon. Drogon let out several more snorts before allowing a burst of flame to escape. It whirled past Jon, narrowly missing him. He yelped and jumped back, crying "Hey!"

The massive beast unfolded itself, filling the room. It began to advance towards Jon, jowls glowing with an inferno awaiting release. He backpedaled rapidly, waving the sword desperately in front of him. "Now would be a really good time to catch fire again," he muttered, certain that at any moment he would be turned into a charred heap, in one final act of Targaryen vengeance.

When Drogon finally opened his jaws and unleashed the blazing conflagration, Jon squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for a quick end.

But it never came.

He sensed the scorching heat, heard the whoosh of the flames, but felt... nothing. Slowly, incredulously, he opened his eyes to find that the dragon's flames were being conducted directly into the blade he held in front of him.

After several blistering moments, Drogon ceased his firestorm. The room went dark except for the sword, which continued to burn as it had before. Jon stared mesmerized as the flames licked up the blade, climbing higher and higher. The longer Jon looked, the more the flames began to resemble distinct shapes. As he watched, the shapes morphed, becoming more and more human.

A single flare fell to the ground and began to grow larger and larger, until it was taller than any human Jon had ever encountered. He stumbled away. The flare, as it twisted and stretched, became a woman, the likes of which Jon had never seen. She shook out her hair, tongues of flame licking the air around him. One wrapped around his forearm and he was sure it would melt through the sleeve of his tunic. But when the tongue released him, there was no mark left behind. The sleeve looked the same as it did just the moment before. The being turned and looked at him, her eyes burning into his. He found himself unable to move, though from fear or awe, he was not sure.

The woman's face shone with a terrible beauty, her countenance simultaneously alluring and horrifying. She seemed to be lit from within by an unearthly luminescence, and when she spoke, her voice reverberated from every corner of the room. "Jon Snow," she greeted him, and chills ran down his spine.

He suddenly felt as if he might die if she looked at him one second longer, so overwhelmed was he at her presence. Trembling, he dropped to one knee, bowing as low as he could. The woman laughed, a deep, resonant sound that he felt in his bones. "Rise, my son," she said.

He obeyed, not daring to look directly at her again. "My Lady, I sincerely apologize. It seems you know who I am, but I do not know who you are- I do not believe we have ever met."

Jon felt the heat emanating from her move around him as the woman began to circle him.

"Oh, we have met, Jon Snow. Many times. But you have never seen me- at least not in this form."

He looked up, bewildered, but still wary. "My Lady, my apologies, but what do you mean?"

She stopped in front of him. "Very few know me for who I truly am. Only a handful throughout the Seven Kingdoms remain who have learned to see the truth. You have been raised to recognize but a small piece of all I can do, all I can be. You mortals live your whole lives seeking a shallow vision of power; it is but a dim reflection in a clouded pond. You fear, and teach your children to fear, what true power actually looks like. You hide your faces, ignorantly believing that you know all there is to know about the gods, pretending that I can be contained in a building, a cathedral, a Godswood. You do not see." The flames dancing around the woman's face grew brighter and began to dance more furiously. "I have been with your ancestors since before time began. I am the Mother of your fathers, the ruler of generations. I am all things to all peoples. " At this, her face changed.

In her place stood a man dressed in worn leather crusted by salt and barnacles. Sea water ran in rivulets down his face and through his beard. "The Drowned God."

Before Jon's eyes, the man suddenly burst into flame and now before him stood a blazing pillar of fire. Blinding light shone from its breastplate, reflected off its helm. In its enormous fist it held a broadsword that seemed to have been forged from magma. Jon ducked, and stumbled away, feeling the leather of his boots begin to split and crack in the withering heat. "The Lord of Light."

Suddenly, the light was gone, and Jon blinked in the blinding darkness it left behind. He heard a soft whicker and looked up in time to see a massive horse rear on its hind legs, hooves reaching for the moon above. "The Great Stallion."

Then, a flash of light and the stallion was gone, replaced by a solitary figure. As he watched, the figure stepped forward, revealing six others behind it. Together, they encircled Jon. He turned slowly, the light from his sword revealing their faces.

His adoptive father Eddard Stark.

Next, a woman who bore so much resemblance to the man next to her that Jon could only assume her to be Lyanna Stark.

Then Missandei, her gentle face unmarred by Cersei's torture.

Melisandre, who, as Jon watched, removed her ruby necklace. Her face became lined and ancient, red hair shrinking and graying.

Next to her stood Tormund, battle axe in hand.

Then came Robb, and finally someone he did not recognize.

The man had long, shining hair, one side red, the other white. As he watched, the man passed his hand in front of his face and a scar appeared on the man's cheek, his long hair receding into short, dark curls. The man's mouth curled into a sly smile.

"Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Warrior, Builder, and Stranger," Jon whispered.

The woman's voice reverberated once more. "The Seven."

Another flash of light, and the seven figures surrounding him were gone, the shining woman towering over him once more. "I am all, and I am none. I am the Many-Faced God."

Jon stood dumbfounded, unable to speak. The Many-Faced God continued. "Long ago, I told your world of a savior, someone I would send in their time of need. I knew that there would come a day after a long summer, when the stars bled and the cold breath of darkness fell heavy on the world.

"In that hour I would send a warrior to draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword would be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes. He who clasped it would be Azor Ahai , and the night would flee before him." The woman paused. "Do you remember the first time I awoke you from eternal slumber?"

"I- of course I do," Jon stammered, struggling to understand all that he was being told.

"I returned you to this world because the time had come for Azor Ahai to protect my people. I saw their anguish and sent you to bring them up out of their misery and fear. This you did when you fought the Night King. However, you are not done yet." She walked over to Drogon, stroking his scales. "There are still threats to this land. Dark and ancient powers that are growing in strength day by day."

Jon looked down at the sword in his hand, its flame undimmed, still blazing as fiercely as when it had first been lit. "I- I fear you have chosen the wrong man. I do not doubt your wisdom, My Lady, but I have never relished war nor battle. I am no warrior, no protector. My time in the Night's Watch, as King in the North, both were out of necessity. Who am I that you call me Azor Ahai?"

The woman smiled gently. "That is exactly why you are the man I have chosen. You fight for those you care about, to defend them and keep them from harm. Your brothers in arms needed a leader, so you stepped in. Your people needed leadership and protection, so you became their king."

She moved at a speed inhumanly fast, suddenly standing directly in front of him. Softly, she placed a radiant hand on his cheek. Strength and warmth flooded his body. "You become what is needed. You do not shy away from what must be done. You, Jon Snow, have been chosen for a purpose. I do not make mistakes." Her eyes looked deep into his, and he once again felt the thrilling fear, sure that he would die if he looked at her too long, but too entranced to look away. "You will not be alone. I will be with you. I will tell you what to do, will give you words to say."

She reached down to grasp Lightbringer and pulled it from his grip. Holding it aloft, her voice ringing throughout the chamber, she said "By this sword you will do miraculous things." Barely had words left her mouth but the flaming sword became a mighty column of fire, its light filling the whole room, reflecting off the dragonstone lid across from them and filling the room with dazzling radiance. The column of fire spread wings and left her hand. It began to fly around them, its wings beating with such power that a firestorm swirled around them. The Many-Faced God tilted her chin, looking down at him with a face filled with terrifying glory. "Now only one question remains, Jon Snow: will you obey?"

At this the column of fire zipped once more around Jon, rustling his hair, then clattered to the stone floor before him, a cold sword once again.

Slowly, Jon sank to one knee. Gripping Lightbringer's hilt, he bowed his head. "I will."