Bab 4: Chapter 4: Unraveling the Darkness
Clark
The night in Craster's Keep felt unnaturally long, its silence thick and suffocating. Clark had barely slept, his mind restless, swirling with unease. He could hear the creaks of the building settling, the whispers of the wildlings in the dark, and the distant howls of the wind outside. It was like a prison here, not just for the people but for his own thoughts, too.
He knew that Craster was hiding something—something beyond the cruelty of his rule. It wasn't just about survival, as Craster had claimed. There was something darker at play, something that had made this place more than just a refuge for the desperate. Clark's eyes flickered toward the corner of the room, where Craster sat with his eyes closed, a cruel and disinterested sneer still etched on his face.
Tormund had been right to warn him not to trust the man. Clark had barely exchanged more than a few words with Craster, but the way the man carried himself, the way he seemed to look through everyone, told him everything he needed to know. Craster was a predator, and these people were his prey.
As the hours dragged on, Clark's unease grew. He couldn't ignore the way the women in the keep looked at him. Their eyes were haunted, weary, and filled with unspoken dread. The children were no better—quiet, withdrawn, their gazes dull as if they had already learned too much about the cruelty of the world at far too young an age.
Something wasn't right. He could feel it in his bones.
Clark stood up, careful not to disturb the others as they slept fitfully around the hearth. His eyes swept over the room one last time before he stepped outside into the biting cold, determined to find out what Craster was hiding.
---
Tormund
Tormund awoke to the sound of the wind howling louder than before. The storm outside was relentless, but it didn't seem to bother him. He was used to this kind of weather, but his mind wasn't on the cold. No, it was on Craster's Keep and what he had already known about the man. There was no denying it anymore—Craster's cruelty ran deep, and Tormund could sense the danger they were all in.
He rose slowly, taking care not to wake Ygritte, who was still curled up by the fire. She was a tough woman, but even she had seen enough hardship in her life to make her cautious. Tormund moved across the room, his boots muffled by the thick snow beneath. He glanced toward the door, where Clark had disappeared earlier.
That was strange. Clark had seemed different from the beginning, but Tormund hadn't fully realized just how strange he was. The man was too calm, too powerful, too… out of place. Wildlings weren't known for their patience with outsiders, and Clark didn't fit the mold. He was like a storm on the horizon—unpredictable, and powerful.
But Tormund hadn't had time to figure out what kind of man Clark really was. There were too many other things to worry about—too many dangers.
He pulled on his thick coat and walked over to the fire, where Ygritte was now stirring. Her fiery red hair was a wild mess, but her eyes were sharp as ever.
"Where's Clark?" she asked quietly, rubbing her eyes.
"I don't know," Tormund muttered. "He left earlier. I think he's trying to figure out what Craster is hiding."
Ygritte's brows furrowed. "You think he's dangerous?"
"I don't know," Tormund admitted. "But I wouldn't trust Craster with my life. And Clark's not the type of man to let something slide if it doesn't sit right with him."
Ygritte stood up, brushing snow from her clothes as she nodded. "We need to find him. He might get himself into trouble."
Tormund knew she was right. They couldn't afford to let Clark wander around here without knowing exactly what was going on. The keep was a trap, and it was clear that Craster was the one who set it.
Together, they moved to the door, opening it carefully. The wind whipped at their faces, but they ignored it, stepping out into the snow and scanning the darkness for any sign of Clark.
---
Clark
The night was colder than he had expected, and Clark's breath puffed in clouds in front of him as he made his way around the keep. His cape fluttered slightly in the wind, but it did little to shield him from the freezing air. He needed answers, and Craster's Keep seemed like the perfect place to get them.
Clark's eyes moved across the crude buildings, searching for anything that could give him a clue about what was truly happening here. As he walked, he could feel the presence of the wildlings around him, though none of them dared to approach him. They were cautious, wary of the stranger who had appeared out of nowhere, and for good reason. Clark wasn't like them—he wasn't from this world, and that made him a threat in their eyes.
He stopped in front of a small building that seemed more secluded than the others. It was quieter here, and Clark could hear the faintest of whispers coming from inside. His eyes narrowed, and he moved toward the entrance, listening closely.
As he reached the door, he paused. There was something about the whispering that didn't sit right with him. It wasn't the usual talk of survival, or idle gossip. No, this was something far darker, something that chilled him to his core.
Clark pushed the door open slowly, and what he saw made his stomach drop.
Inside, a handful of women sat in a circle, their eyes hollow and their faces gaunt. They looked up as Clark entered, their eyes widening in fear. They had clearly been waiting for something—or someone—and when they saw him, the fear only deepened.
"Who are you?" one of the women asked, her voice trembling.
"I'm just a traveler," Clark replied, his tone gentle but firm. "I'm here to find out what's going on here."
The women exchanged glances, and for a long moment, no one spoke. Clark's instincts told him that they knew far more than they were letting on, but they were afraid—afraid of Craster, afraid of the power he wielded over them.
"You shouldn't be here," another woman said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's dangerous. He'll kill you if he finds out."
Clark's brows furrowed. "Who? Craster?"
The first woman nodded, her eyes darting nervously toward the door. "He's not who he seems to be. He takes more than just our loyalty. He takes our children."
Clark's heart skipped a beat. The words hung in the air like a weight, heavy and suffocating.
"Your children?" he repeated, barely able to process what he was hearing.
"They're his," the second woman said, her voice filled with bitterness. "He sacrifices them. Every time a son is born, he takes them into the wilderness and leaves them to die."
Clark's blood ran cold as the implications sank in. Craster wasn't just a cruel man. He was a monster, preying on these women and their children for reasons that defied understanding. And no one here had the courage to stop him—not the wildlings, not anyone.
"Why haven't you stopped him?" Clark demanded, his voice sharp with rising anger. "Why hasn't anyone done anything?"
"We're afraid," the first woman whispered. "If we disobey him, we die. If we try to escape, we die. We have no choice."
Clark clenched his fists. These women were trapped, enslaved by Craster's twisted grip on power. And they knew they couldn't escape. They had given up hope.
But Clark wouldn't let that happen. Not while he was here.
"I'll put an end to this," he said, his voice determined. "I won't let him keep doing this. Not to you. Not to anyone."
The women looked at him, a flicker of hope in their eyes. But it was quickly replaced with fear. They didn't believe him—how could they? How could anyone believe that Craster's reign of terror would end, after all these years?
But Clark was different. And he would make sure that Craster wouldn't escape justice.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone