In the vast darkness of the void, where only the most eldritch of beings could claim dominion, a chorus of whispers resounded. They murmured and debated in hushed, ancient tones. Then, one voice—older and more powerful than the rest—rose above them.
"So we have come to an agreement," the voice intoned, deep and commanding. "A believer must be chosen. One who will be sent into the world where the vile heretic resides."
Silence followed—a rarity among the Old Ones, a sign of true consensus.
"Then it is decided," the voice continued. "Now, we must choose. Who among our faithful shall carry out this hunt?"
Immediately, the whispers swelled into an uproar. Each entity sought dominance, their voices clashing in a battle of wills. But for the first time in an age so long that only the oldest among them could remember, the Ancient One intervened.
"I have long remained neutral, keeping the peace to prevent a repeat of the past," it declared. "But now, I must act. I have already chosen. He was meant for a greater purpose, destined to fulfill the Valyrian Prophecy… yet another now carries that burden."
The voices wavered, displeased but unable to challenge the will of the Ancient One.
"You know of whom I speak. Jon Snow."
Many objected, unwilling to remove such a crucial figure from the Core World. But the decision had already been made. The will of the Ancient One was final.
"Then it is settled. His memories shall be wiped. He shall not return to Westeros but instead, be reborn in the heretic's world. There, he shall hunt. And there, he shall destroy."