Chapter 7
Dawn at the farm brought no comfort, only a raw light that revealed the butchery of the previous night. The field in front of the main house was littered with piles of ash and inert remains that my men were already stacking with mechanical efficiency. The air smelled of ozone, burnt flesh, and that heavy Georgia humidity that seemed to stifle any trace of hope.
Rick's group moved like sleepwalkers. They had spent the night watching from the windows, seeing how a hundred men without firearms had massacred a horde that, according to their logic, should have devoured the entire farm.
I stood on the porch, watching the sun begin to punish the earth. It was time.
"Torgad. Jarl." My voice was not loud, but the air seemed to vibrate with it, reaching the furthest corners of the property. "Bring everyone. My people and Rick's. It is time they understand exactly where they are standing."
There was no need to repeat the order. Within minutes, people began to gather in the front yard under the shade of the great oaks. My hundred warriors formed an outer semicircle—a wall of bronze and scars surrounding the group of modern survivors. The savages were calm; they already knew my story, or at least the part their minds could process.
Rick stepped out of the house, carrying the exhaustion of Carl's surgery on his shoulders. Shane walked beside him, eyes fixed on the ground, avoiding eye contact with Jarl. Lori, Andrea, Amy, Carol, and the rest huddled near the RV, feeling small before the massive presence of my men. Herschel and Maggie stood to one side, with Beth to their right—though her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that was less filial and more devotional.
I stepped to the edge of the porch, letting the silence become absolute. Even the wind seemed to stop, as if nature itself were waiting for my word.
"You have spent days searching for an explanation," I began, looking first at Rick and then at Shane. "You search for logic in your dead laws or your science books. You want to believe I am a soldier, a cult leader, or a government mistake."
I paused, letting the breeze slightly rustle my black clothes.
"None of that is true. I do not belong to this world. Nor do my men, nor the force you saw last night upon this field."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the Atlanta group. Dale adjusted his hat, looking at Rick as if expecting him to say something, but Rick remained silent. He had already seen a glimpse of my reality the night before.
"I come from a land your maps do not record," I continued, projecting my voice so it reached every soul present. "A place my people call the True North. A world of steel, of walls of ice seven hundred feet high, and of a magic that is as real as the heat you feel upon your skin right now."
"Another world?" Andrea interrupted, clutching her sister Amy's hand. "Are you saying you're... a visitor from another planet?"
"No," I replied with gelid calm. "I do not come from the stars. I come from another plane of existence. My world and yours are like two leaves on the same tree, but mine is being consumed by a winter that never ends."
I approached the railing, looking toward the woods.
"Your world faces an apocalypse of flesh. Your dead rise out of blind hunger. It is a tragedy, yes, but it is a physical tragedy. Biological. What my world faces is something much older and far more terrifying."
I closed my eyes for a second and activated a fraction of my Majesty. Not to intimidate them, but so their minds could visualize what my words described. The air around the porch seemed to turn freezing all at once—a blast of gelid wind that made Lori hug herself and caused Shane's breath to become visible for an instant.
"In my world, the apocalypse is not a sickness," I said, and my voice acquired an ancestral echo. "It is the return of the Others. Shadows of ice that turn men into wights with blue eyes. There, the cold does not just kill the body; it claims the soul. There are no bites to infect you; it is enough that you die for you to rise as a slave to an eternal will that hates everything that breathes."
I described the Lands of Always Winter. I told them of the giants that walked amidst the blizzards, of the direwolves that could devour a man in one bite, and of the dragons that once soared the skies of a south that is now ash. I told them of my host, the Free Folk, who chose to follow me through the void rather than become statues of ice in a war they could not win.
"We did not flee out of fear," Torgad said from the circle, his voice resonating with the pride of his race. "We followed the King who promised a sun that does not go out. And he delivered."
Rick's group listened in deathly silence. Herschel had his hands clasped, staring at the ground. For a man of faith, hearing that other worlds exist with their own demons was an ordeal his religion had not prepared him to overcome.
"This world is young," I continued. "It is fragile. Your dead are slow, clumsy, and stupid. For my warriors, your apocalypse is almost a respite compared to the nightmares we left behind. That is why you could sleep last night while we cleared the field. What for you is the end of days, for us is only the first day of conquest."
I walked toward Shane, who was closest to the stairs. The ex-deputy looked up, and I saw in his eyes the conflict of a man who wants to fight but knows he has no weapons against what stands before him.
"You think I am trapped here with you, Shane," I said, stepping down the final stair. "You think I am just another refugee looking for a place to hide from the walkers."
I stopped inches from him. Shane did not back away, but his breathing became erratic.
"I could return to my world this very instant if I so desired," I said, and the golden glow in my eyes intensified. "I have the power to cross the veil between realities whenever I wish. My world is a chaos of ice and war, but I remain an anomaly in its fabric. If I returned now, I would not do it to fight on other men's walls. I would do it to conquer. To sit upon the Iron Throne that the lords of the south guard with such greed while the north freezes."
I turned to the rest of the group.
"But I have chosen to stay. I have chosen this place, this farm, this crumbling world, because here I can build something that lasts. My Sanctuary is not just a refuge; it is the foundation of a new empire. Here, the laws of physics and magic are merging under my will."
I pointed to Sophia, who was watching from the porch, held by Beth.
"The girl is alive because my law imposes itself over death. Your son, Rick, breathes because my energy keeps his organs functioning. This is my territory because I am the only one with the power to truly protect it."
Rick took a step forward. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, but his sheriff's mind was still trying to find a structure, a pact.
"If you have that power... if you can leave and conquer another world... why us?" Rick asked. "Why bother with a group of survivors on a Georgia highway?"
"Because an empire is not built only with warriors, Rick," I replied. "One needs people who know what it is to lose everything so they value what I give them. One needs men of law like you to organize the civilians, and men of action like Shane or Daryl to execute my orders. One needs farmers like Herschel to feed the host."
I approached Andrea and Amy.
"Your world is dead. The government, the cities, your technology... it is all just garbage waiting to be buried. I offer you an alternative. I do not ask you to worship me as a god—though in time, you will. I ask you to recognize reality: this soil you step on no longer belongs to the United States. It belongs to me."
Shane let out a huff, a last remnant of his old arrogance trying to surface.
"And what happens if we decide we don't want your 'protection'? If we just pack our things and leave your territory?"
I looked at Shane with a pity that was more painful than a blow.
"You can leave, Shane. You can cross that fence right now with your shotgun and your pride. But before you reach the road, the dead will smell you. And when they surround you, when you feel their teeth in your flesh, you will realize that your freedom was only the right to die alone in the dark. Here, my law is life. Outside of here, there is only hunger."
Shane fell silent. He looked toward the woods, where the movement of a few erratic walkers could still be seen, and then he looked at the line of my warriors. He knew I was right. His survival logic told him that, as crazy as it all sounded, this was the only safe place for miles.
"From this day forward, things will change," I announced, raising my voice to close the speech. "The Sanctuary will begin to expand. We will not just defend ourselves; we will reclaim what is useful. Rick, you will be my voice among your people. You will ensure they understand the rules. Shane, you will work with Torgad on the external fortifications. I do not want to see a single bullet fired without my express permission. If you need to kill, you will learn to do it as we do: with silence and steel."
I looked at Daryl. The hunter was leaning against a post, crossbow on his shoulder, watching me with a curiosity that was beginning to outweigh his distrust.
"Daryl, you and Jarl will be my eyes in the forest. I want to know what groups are moving in the surroundings. I want no surprises."
Finally, I looked at Herschel. The old man seemed to have aged ten years in one night.
"Herschel, your faith has been tested. But look at your daughter. Look at Sophia. If you need a miracle to keep believing, there they are. Continue tending to Carl. Tomorrow, we begin the real transformation of this place."
I turned around and headed back inside the house, leaving the crowd to process the destruction of their reality.
Valthor's POV
I entered the living room of the Greene house, where the air still held a bit of the night's coolness. I sat in Herschel's armchair and closed my eyes, letting my Domain expand through the foundations of the house to the roots of the ancient oaks.
The speech had served its purpose. By revealing my origin, I have eliminated uncertainty. I am no longer a "weird guy with an army"; I am a force of nature from another dimension. That distinction is vital for minds like Rick's or Andrea's to accept their subordination. They haven't surrendered to another man; they have surrendered to a superior reality.
I feel Shane outside. His rage has transformed into a bitter submission—the kind of submission I can use. Having seen my solar blade last night, he understood his firearms are children's tools. He will begin following orders because his survival instinct is stronger than his ego.
Amy is alive, and her presence keeps Andrea focused. Andrea is intelligent and has a strong will; if I can earn her total loyalty, she will be an excellent administrator for the Sanctuary.
But most important is what I said about my original world. It was not a lie. The capacity to return is something my gift of Majesty and the Canvas are beginning to map. This Georgia world is my base of operations, my laboratory. But Westeros... Westeros is my pending fiefdom. When I have perfected the fusion between the technology of this world and the magic of mine, I will return. And this time, the Others won't be the only threat the North has to fear.
I felt Beth enter the room. She made no noise, but her energy was like a soft flame approaching.
"Lord..." she whispered, kneeling at my feet. "The sheriff's group... they are afraid. But Maggie says that for the first time in weeks, she doesn't have nightmares about the barn."
"Fear is necessary before respect, Beth," I replied, placing a hand on her head. "And respect is necessary before loyalty. Go to them. Teach them that in the Sanctuary, work is the only prayer I hear."
Beth nodded and left the room.
I looked out the window at the rising sun. Rick Grimes's apocalypse had just met its master. And I was only just beginning to paint on this new canvas of flesh and ash.