Gojo left Winterfell without a word. The Stark family was cursed, and the weight of that curse pressed heavily on his chest. There was no need for explanations, no need for farewells. The moment he had realized the depth of the darkness surrounding the North, he had known that his path lay elsewhere.
Arriving at the Wall, Gojo immediately felt the presence of cursed energy, much like what he had sensed from the weirwood tree. So, there were sacrifices here too. It was the same—humans sacrificing each other in the name of something greater. Something twisted. Gojo's heart hardened as the truth sank in: people were garbage towards each other, no matter where he went.
He considered bringing the Wall down—crushing it with his power, obliterating everything in his path—but he lacked the cursed technique for it. For all his strength, there were limitations in this world. But that wouldn't stop him from finding the source of the cursed energy.
Climbing the Wall, Gojo paused for a moment at the top. The view was beautiful. The world stretched out beneath him, the lands rolling away in vast green expanses, the air crisp and clear. But it was also cruel. So much beauty, and yet so much pain, suffering, and darkness clung to every corner.
Gojo's eyes narrowed as he focused on the cursed energy emanating from the Wall. The energy split right at the Wall's edge, as though something—or someone—was trying to keep cursed spirits from passing through. The Wall was more than just a barrier between the living and the dead; it was a prison for the cursed.
He knew what he had to do.
He descended from the Wall, feeling the pull of the cursed energy, guiding him. He would find this cursed spirit, and he would exorcise it.
No matter what it took.
Gojo had encountered some wildlings during in the land beyond the wall and met a woman named Ygritte. Ygritte was cautious about gojo, but some casual conversation, he boldly asked her if she knew where the cursed spirits were. There was no time to lose. Ygritte stared at him as though he were mad.
"Go die by yourself if you want," she had said, the words blunt and harsh. But after some shared food, she seemed to soften, her fear evident in the way she spoke.
"Caster... he knows," Ygritte said quietly. "His keep is... that way." She pointed off into the distance, her voice trembling with something deeper than mere unease.
Gojo nodded in gratitude, bidding her farewell. As he watched her walk away, he couldn't help but reflect on the wildlings. They were nothing like the savage barbarians his father had painted them to be. In fact, they seemed more civilized than many people he had encountered in the world of politics and deceit.
The Wall, in Gojo's mind, was not a place of defense—it was a monument to bloodshed. The cursed weirwood tree that fed off the sacrifices was at the center of it all, and the Wall itself was built to spill that blood. It was a disgusting system, and Gojo was determined to end it.
Gojo soon arrived at Caster's keep. The stench of blood and rot filled the air as he approached, and what he witnessed upon entering made his stomach churn. Caster was violating one of his own daughters, his actions grotesque and unforgivable.
Gojo clenched his fists. The urge to kill him right there was overwhelming. But he held back, his mind calculating. Old Nan's suicide meant he could not afford to lose his only lead. He needed to keep his focus.
As he turned away, he saw Caster leave a baby outside in the snow, an innocent life left to die. Gojo's fury flared—he wanted to rip Caster apart for this. But just as his temper reached its breaking point, something else caught his attention.
A surge of cursed energy. A burst of power that had no place in the world of the living. From a nearby tree, a White Walker emerged, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light.
Gojo's heart skipped a beat. This was no ordinary creature.
"A shikigami," he muttered to himself. The White Walker had been summoned, its very being a manifestation of cursed energy. Gojo quickly assessed the situation. If he acted too hastily, the shikigami might turn on him.
He focused, weaving his cursed energy to fool the White Walker, making it believe he was someone—or something—else. With a flicker of his will, he manipulated the cursed spirit, bending its perception to his advantage.
The White Walker paused, its eerie glow flickering, before it turned and melted back into the shadows of the tree. Gojo exhaled in relief. He had won this round, but there was more to uncover here, and he knew it wasn't over yet.
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