Cancion De Hielo Y Fuego: Libros De

He dipped the quill in ink and began to write. Not what was true. But what should be.

Maester Aron closed the book. For a long moment, he did not answer. The candle flame flickered. Outside the window, the stars of the northern sky burned cold and silent. libros de cancion de hielo y fuego

“No,” the maester said. “It is simply… different.” He dipped the quill in ink and began to write

“I have seen the truth in the obsidian mirrors,” the archmaester had written. “Our world is not the only world. There are others. In one, the dragon hatched. In another, the wolf ate the lion. In a thousand more, the long summer never ended. We are but one song in a library of endless shelves. And the singers? They are not gods. They are men with ink-stained fingers, writing us even now.” Maester Aron closed the book

“What is it?” the boy asked. His name was Gerris, and he was ten, old enough to know fear but young enough to still feel wonder. The book’s pages were not vellum but a strange, thin material, brittle as dried leaves.

At the top, he wrote: “The Song of Ice and Fire – A True History.”

The book had been found in the ruins of a watchtower along the Skirling Pass, buried beneath a collapsed slate roof. A wildling had sold it to a ranger for a bag of salt beef. The ranger had given it to the Lord Commander, who had given it to the raven master, who had sent it south to the Citadel. And now it lay before them.