The Stranger fell, deeper and deeper into the mountain with each passing second he began to wonder if it would ever end. But as soon as he continued down for what seemed another second. He was quite violently ejected into a large chamber, one that he felt was indeed a haven from the violence of death and coldness from outside.

Other than the splinting pain that emanated from his side. The only thing that disturbed him was the pure darkness. That seemed to radiate and swallow, not one that someone would find in a cave naturally. Soon as the pain ceased the Stranger got up and decided to cast another fireball as he did earlier. But as released his hand expecting the magic to flow through him, instead of the flow or the shock of summoning a fireball, nothing happened. No fireball, no dissipation of darkness, just nothing. After just opening and closing his hand repeatedly for several minutes. The Stranger huffed in frustration and began saying things like:

"Fire."

"Fireball"

"Let there be light."

"LUMINOUS!" He said from deep in his diaphragm, but nothing again happened.

"Fiiirreee." He said as if he was a rocker. But like luminous, nothing happened, and so he became disgruntled. And finally "LET THERE BE LIGHT!" He exclaimed, but alas nothing, with a final grunt, the Stranger just sat on what he assumed to be a stone floor and not on top of a dragon. Where he'd start to ponder, 'What to do? What to do?' Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned to hours. During this time he stopped thinking 'What to do?' and he began to meditate.

Where he found, in his mind, a little spring of oddness and knowledge. That was the source of his power. He mentally prodded it and removed more of any mental barriers that might impede his ability. Magic soon flooded and flowed throughout his being.

Opening his eyes slowly and calmy and taking a deep breath. He raised his right hand, connected his middle finger to his thumb and SNAP. But this was no ordinary Snap. This snap reverberated throughout the cave, and the echo multiplied. At the same time gained strength until it almost drove the Stranger mad. Then it just stopped, until a crystal burst to life with light and began to absorb the unnatural darkness. The stranger snapped his fingers again, even though it echoed through the chamber. Another light crystal burst to life, consuming more of the strange night. Again and again, the stranger snapped his fingers. Soon my light crystals appeared and began sucking the dark. Until what remained shocked and awed him.

A vast library that put the Citadel to shame. A trove of knowledge that none came before and most likely none will come again. More than enough knowledge to make the Grand Maester salivate with anticipation. Every subject was meticulously categorized from topics ranging Astrology and Astrophysics to Zoology. Even the categorization of magic was not spared from the powerful organization, and how it was equally intertwined with the subjects inside the vast collection. But what was the most peculiar thing was a dais in the middle of the chamber. And a very large grimoire, on top of a table and pedestal.

The Stranger got up from the floor and proceeded to walk towards the enormous tome. 'Okay, I'm likely in the very northern tip of Westeros, I killed a White Walker, I'm a mother fucking wizard, and I'm about to read an extensive book.' He thought to himself, his body shaking with nerves and anticipation. 'What can go wrong?' He sarcastically thought to himself. He then found himself right before the dais and the grimoire, nervous yet wanting to go up there to take a look at the massive book.

Gathering what remaining courage he had left, he climbed up to the book. Pulled back the leather embodied cover and saw the first page that said with ink that was dark as the night sky.

"Is fíor-chumhacht an t-eolas iarbhír."

"Is Fee or chum hakt an ti eolaas air bhir?" The Stranger said in confusion, wondering why did it sound familiar to him. Ignoring the magical energy around him, as it turns the ink from a night sky black to a radiant gold. With power literally coming off from the parchment. The Stranger's eyes widen in awe before he was hit, for a second time, with raw, unadulterated magic. With the notable exception that this wasn't pure elemental power, but every single tome in the chamber. Had hit him with the same physical and mental force of a tsunami wave.

If it wasn't for him gripping the leather tome by the edges. The Stranger would've shot up into the air and landed into a bookcase. But he held on to the ancient book as if his life depended on him absorbing the knowledge of the chamber. However, the Stranger knew he couldn't hold on for much longer, for the sheer amount what was contained would drive any sane man to madness and any crazed man to normalness.

Then as soon as it began, it ended. The magical energy had stopped, and the Stranger collapsed onto the floor, next to the pedestal, his eyes rolled backward and into his head. Where he slipped into a deep sleep.

Other than the unconscious wizard, the chamber was peaceful. But in the Stranger's mind, chaos reigned. As all of the knowledge was organized and categorized into his mind's eye. He couldn't keep track of it all, but couldn't stop. As if the magic forced him to memorize each and everything deeply. In the physical sense, his brain was creating new and intricate pathways from the billions and billions of neurons. The vastness and speed that he was learning forced his body used what energy it had to develop new neurons and brain matter so that his brain won't fry his mind and leave him brain dead.

Then, with no warning the Stranger's eyes open. These weren't the eyes of an inexperienced warlock, but one who'd spent a better part of his life learning and practicing spells and enchantments.

Meanwhile, in Winterfell. There was a boy who fell, who'd lay in his bed in a never-ending sleep. That could not be wakened, not even if you banged every pot and pans in the kitchens. Suddenly and without warning, opened his eyes and ended his coma.