In the sixth book of George RR Martin’s Game of Thrones series, every single character from all of the preceding books will be killed off.
The seventh and final book will begin with the revelation that only half of them were actually killed; the other half were only almost killed.
And then inside 100 pages they’ll all be really killed 100% irrevocably stone dead.
Except 25% of them will turn into ice zombies, and fifty others will be resurrected.
Then Martin will introduce six thousand entirely new characters and spend 1500 rambling, sweaty pages explaining where they live and what they’re eating and wearing and what the weather’s like from moment to moment and detailing their excruciatingly tedious journeys from various vaguely interesting but near-totally irrelevant places to various other somewhat dimly intriguing but also almost wholly irrelevant places.
In the final chapter Westeros will suddenly become a constitutional democracy and a character we just met four pages earlier will be elected Prime Minister and deliver a stirring speech explaining what he’s planning on having for dinner and what he’s thinking of wearing next week and why keeping painstakingly accurate financial records is very important. Then a dragon will eat him. Then we’ll discover that Ned Stark is actually still alive and that the entire story was all a dream he was having while in a deep coma he fell into after eating too much of a rancid eel pie. But then it’ll be revealed that he really *is* dead and his being in a coma and dreaming the entire thing is actually a dream being experienced by Daenarys while also in a coma, which it turns out she lapsed into at the beginning of the first book and has never awoken from.
And then there are five more books, all written by Brandon Sanderson because GRR Martin will by this point have died of six simultaneous heart attacks.