GoT Shadowborn: The Rise of Ashford

Ethan's eyes snapped open. He could feel the pulse of his own heartbeat—except it didn't feel like a heartbeat at all. It was something... different. It thrummed through him, deep and steady, like the beat of the earth itself. His muscles were alive, his body brimming with energy, every inch of him more attuned to the world than he had ever been.

He tried to move, but his limbs were frozen, as though something held him in place. Panic gripped him for a moment, but then he realized he could feel everything around him. The cold stone floor beneath his back, the faint trickle of water from somewhere distant, the faint rustling of air—he could feel the very air itself move.

His mind reeled as he tried to piece together his situation. One moment, he had been stabbed in his penthouse—his life ending in an instant—and now, here he was. Where was here? The room around him was dark, the only light coming from the flickering flames of torches. The walls were made of rough-hewn stone, like the ruins of a long-forgotten kingdom. But the air—it felt ancient, and there was something in the very atmosphere that hummed with power.

"Where am I?" Ethan muttered, though the words felt strange in his mouth. His voice had changed, deeper, more resonant—almost as if it was forged from the very darkness around him.

Before he could process more, a figure appeared from the shadows. Ethan could make out little more than a tall silhouette, the shape of a person clothed in dark robes that seemed to ripple like shadows themselves.

"You've awakened," the figure said, his voice rich with an unnatural depth. "It is time."

Ethan blinked, his mind swimming. "Time?"

The figure stepped forward, closer now, and Ethan could see his features: pale skin, eyes that gleamed with the light of the stars, and a presence that seemed to pull at the very fabric of the air itself. There was something almost... divine about him. But what was most unsettling was the figure's aura—he was not a man, nor was he a creature of flesh and blood. He was something else entirely.

"Who... are you?" Ethan's words were more a whisper than a demand.

"I am Kalyx," the figure replied, "one of the gods who called you here."

Ethan's heart (if it could still be called that) skipped a beat. The gods? Called me here?

"You were chosen, Ethan Ashford," Kalyx continued, his voice echoing with ancient power. "Your death was not an end, but a beginning. You were summoned to this world for a purpose far greater than anything you could have imagined in your former life. Your ambitions, your desire for more, reached the ears of the gods. And now, here you are—one of the few who can change the fate of an entire world."

Ethan could hardly process the words. He had always believed in control, in crafting his own destiny. He was a self-made billionaire, a man who had built his empire with his intellect and ruthless determination. But this? This was something he couldn't even begin to fathom. He had been summoned by gods to change the fate of an entire world?

"Change the fate of the world?" Ethan repeated, his voice carrying disbelief. "How? Why me?"

Kalyx smiled, the expression distant and knowing. "You sought immortality in your world. You sought power beyond measure, but it was not the power of wealth that was meant for you. The gods saw in you something more—a potential to reshape not just your fate, but the fate of this entire realm. The world of Westeros is in chaos. The gods wish to see it changed, to see it brought into a new age of power, order, and strength."

Ethan's mind spun. Westeros. The name rang a bell in his head, and he struggled to place it. But before he could think deeper, Kalyx continued, his voice taking on a weighty tone.

"This world is on the brink of ruin. It is a land ruled by strife, by kingdoms that squabble over fleeting power, by leaders who lack vision. The gods have chosen you, Ethan Ashford, to forge your own destiny and reshape this world in your image. To become the leader it so desperately needs."

Ethan stood, the ground beneath him solid, unyielding. A cold wind swept through the chamber, and for the first time, Ethan felt something stir deep inside him—not fear, but something more primal, something that burned with purpose.

"You're telling me that I... I was chosen because I have the power to change things?" Ethan's voice was stronger now, the initial disbelief slowly giving way to a surge of something darker, something dangerous. "You want me to rule this world?"

Kalyx nodded, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Yes. But it will not be easy. The world is ruled by those who seek power for their own gain—kings, queens, and warlords, each one grasping for control. And the gods, who once held sway over this land, have abandoned it. It is a world ripe for change, but change will not come through mere force. It must come through understanding, through strength, through the forging of a new path."

Ethan's heart, if it could be called that, thundered in his chest. He had always wanted to leave a legacy—a mark on the world that could never be erased. Now, here was his chance, a chance to build something far greater than his empire back in his old world. But the weight of it all, the enormity of the task ahead, settled like a stone in his stomach.

The gods had chosen him. Chosen him because they believed he had the vision to reshape everything.

"What do I need to do?" Ethan asked, his voice resolute. No more questions. He had never been one to hesitate, never been one to let an opportunity slip away.

Kalyx smiled again, though it was not a comforting smile. "You must embrace the power within you. The gods have gifted you not just with strength, but with destiny. You will shape your path through this world, forging alliances, bending others to your will. But be warned: the forces you will face are not mere mortals. There are darker powers at play, and not all will accept your rule."

The hunger within Ethan stirred again, deeper this time, gnawing at his insides. His body craved something—something primal, something that felt essential. But he shoved the hunger aside, focused on Kalyx's words.

"You will need to be more than a ruler, Ethan Ashford," Kalyx continued, his voice grave. "You will need to be a god yourself."

Ethan's mind raced. A god. Could he truly become something more than a man? Could he rule a world, a kingdom, the likes of which no one had ever seen?

He nodded slowly. "Then I will become that god. I will shape this world, carve it into the image I desire. And no one, not the gods themselves, will stop me."

The fire in his eyes burned brighter now, fueled by something far greater than ambition. It was a vision—a vision of power, of control, of a world remade in his image. The gods had brought him here for a reason, and he would fulfill it. He would forge his destiny in this world, one that no mortal or god could challenge.

Kalyx's smile deepened, satisfied with Ethan's resolve. "You are ready, then. The world of Westeros awaits you, Lord Ashford."

As the figure disappeared back into the shadows, Ethan felt a surge of power well up within him. His transformation was not just physical—it was something deeper, something that connected him to this new world. He could feel the fabric of the land itself vibrating with possibilities. He was no longer the man who had been trapped by his wealth, his loneliness, his own limitations. He was something more.

He was a force of change.

And Westeros would bend to his will.