"I can feel it in these old bones of mine, and Maester Aemon agrees. The cold winds are rising. Summer is at an end, and a winter is coming such as this world has never seen."

— Old Bear Mormont

The last sparks of magic died when the last dragon did, or so some say; for one hundred and fifty years, the educated and civilized believed magic to be no more than superstition or the stuff of childhood dreams. But in the East, Dragons have been born and they are breathing magic in the world again. In the North, mystical creatures known as Others have assaulted the Wall and have managed to breach the ancient spells woven that were keeping them at bay. Everywhere, ancient spells are coming back to life, spoken from old lips and waved by weathered hands. Even the Old Gods have something to say about magic; Weirwoods have begun whispering lately, speaking of old secrets and of an ancient power in the North, something even the Others seem to fear.

Winter has come to Westeros ... …and with it chaos and war! Ten years have passed since the end of summer and no sign of spring can been seen. No rightful King sits on the Iron Throne. In King's Landing, the Faith Militant, commanded by the High Septon from the Great Sept of Baelor, has seized control of the city after the abduction of Queen Cersei for crimes against the Faith. They do not acknowledge or bow to any social or secular authority, and the Iron Throne sits empty as a symbolic reminder of the heresy and artifice in the Seven Kingdoms.

In the north, rumors swirl of three Kings. They say a Stark has risen from the ashes of Winterfell to reclaim his birthright and that Wildling savages have overrun the lands. But some Northmen won’t follow a crippled King preferring instead a bastard kin slayer. And in this time and place, even the lowliest commoner can dream himself to becoming the new King in the North.

At the Wall, it is said that the men of the Night's Watch have all been killed, slain by an ancient power that has awoken in the Land Beyond the Wall. Many strange creatures have been seen in the cold dead of night, and villagers have increasingly gone missing.

To the south, the one true heir to the throne of the Seven Kingdoms broods in his ancestral stronghold and watches from his roost among stone dragons as the carnage in Westeros unfolds. Any hope for peace and unity has long since faded into memory.