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The rangers stumbled to a halt when the figure came fully into view, violet eyes burning through the blizzard. Their breaths hitched in unison, a silence falling heavy upon the snow despite the chaos of their flight. Even hardened men of the Watch men who had faced giants, wights, and worse froze.
One ranger whispered hoarsely, as though saying the name too loudly might curse him, "King Aeron…"
Another made the sign of the seven almost absently, as if instinct demanded some protection from the power before them.
Jon's chest heaved from running, his eyes did not leave Aeron. He stepped forward, voice rough with disbelief.
"I thought you were dead," Jon said, tone caught between relief and accusation. "We saw your dragon… frozen there, a literal corpse of ice and shadow…"
Aeron's face remained calm, though the faintest flicker of irritation passed over his eyes. His voice was low, "I know, and he is not dead either." he said. "I've lost my link to the Cannibal. I cannot see through him, nor can I unmake his summon. While you saw him fall, I was locked in battle with the Night King himself. I hadn't the luxury to check what was going with my dragon."
The words left the rangers shifting uneasily, fear gnawing them at the mention of the Night King.
Jon's jaw tightened. "Well… good to see you alive. But you should know..." He paused, the memory of those blue eyes burning in his mind. "The Night King appeared beside your dragon. He… he summoned something, Aeron. An ice dragon. He took to the skies upon it."
At that, Aeron turned. The violet glow of his eyes dimmed, sharpened, as he looked back toward the distant storm. His tone, for the first time, enough to trouble even him.
"He didn't escape me randomly it seems..." Aeron said slowly. "He was buying time. I see it now." His gaze lifted, scanning the mist as though reading its secrets. "This storm… this mist, it is not natural. It is his domain. So long as it lingers, he can move through it as he wills. Vanish, reappear… anywhere within it."
The words struck like a hammer blow. Jon swallowed, his throat dry, while the rangers muttered in fear.
"And now," Aeron continued, voice grim, "this mist presses close to the Wall itself." His expression darkened. "An ice dragon…"
He went still then, eyes widening with sudden clarity.
Jon stepped forward. "What is it?"
The shadows at Aeron's feet stirred, stretching outward like spilled ink. From their depths emerged great shapes, sleek, muscled, their eyes glowing violet. Shadow-cats, each the size of a destrier, their paws silent upon the snow.
Aeron's voice became commanding, sharp. "On their backs. Now. They'll bear you safe to the Wall." His eyes narrowed, leaving no room for argument. "And don't stop there. Tell every soul in Castle Black to leave. The Wall is about to be no more."
The rangers balked, shock rippling through them. Jon himself stared, stunned. "What do you mean by that?"
At that moment, Garm emerged from the darkness a mountain of a wolf-wraith, violet eyes blazing as it padded to Aeron's side. The King swung onto its back with fluid ease, his black armor gleaming faintly through the mist.
Aeron looked back at Jon, his words were final.
"If I were the Night King, and some great inconvenience stood in my path, stone and ice risen high against me then I would set my dragon upon it. Burn it down in frost and ruin. Reduce the Wall to nothing, and march my army through its grave."
The air seemed colder with the truth of it. Jon's stomach sank, realization dawning swift and merciless. His voice cracked with urgency as he turned to his men. "Mount up! To Castle Black, now!"
The rangers obeyed, scrambling onto the waiting shadow-cats, their fear drowned by duty and Aeron's grim words.
Jon paused only a heartbeat longer, meeting Aeron's violet gaze one last time.
"I'll go free my dragon," Aeron said, his tone clipped, already turning away. "I'll need his wings, and his firepower, to bring the Night King's beast down. Don't die, Snow."
Jon nodded once, firm, then leapt onto the back of a shadow-cat. The great beast bounded into the mist with a speed no horse could match, the others following, Jon's voice ringing out over the storm.
"Faster!"
Behind them, Aeron rode into the darkness of the forest, shadows swirling about him like smoke.
****
The shadow-cats bounded through the storm with a speed and silence that made the rangers cling all the harder to the beasts' shadow fur. The mist tore past them, snow biting their eyes, until at last the pale glow of torches flickered atop Castle Black's wall. The dark bulk of the gate loomed, the sounds of men muffled by the storm.
"Castle Black!" one ranger shouted hoarsely, his voice breaking against the wind.
Another bellowed, "Open the gate! Open, for the Watch!"
Shouts answered from above, alarmed and uncertain. "What in the Father's name are those beasts?!" The sight of five great shadow-cats tearing out of the white was near enough to freeze men at their posts. Bows were raised, spears bristled.
"Open the gate, you fools!" Jon Snow's voice cut through the chaos like a sword, cold and commanding. "It's me, Jon Snow! We are back!"
Recognition sparked. Men craned over the wall, their eyes wide as the cats slowed, pacing before the gate with claws scratching deep into the frozen earth. The orders came quick. "Lower the gate! Open it now!" Chains rattled, wood groaned, and the creak of ice-crusted hinges screamed as the great doors opened.
The shadow-cats padded inside, their eyes burning violet. A murmur of fear spread through the gathered Watch as men staggered back, gripping their spears tighter.
"What devils are these?" muttered one.
"Shadowspawn of the king…" whispered another, making the sign of the Seven before his lips.
Jon leapt down, Longclaw in his hand, his breath ragged. "They are the reason we got here fast. Now Listen." His tone was sharp, leaving no room for doubt.
The nearest men parted as he strode through, his rangers tumbling down behind him, faces pale, armor rimed with frost.
One of the stewards blurted out, "Gods, what's happened? What of the ranging? Did you find the source of that impact?"
Jon turned on him with a fire in his eyes none of them had seen before. "Aye we did.. But nevermind that... Tonight It's not the dead you need to fear. A dragon is coming."
The words dropped like a hammer. The men of the Watch gaped. Some laughed nervously, as if it must be jest. But Jon's face was grave, his voice iron.
"A dragon?" one said, almost scoffing. "we've held the Wall against worse."
Jon's jaw clenched. "Worse than an undead dragon of ice? We saw it. The Night King himself… that is his mount and he will surely destroy the wall anytime now." He pointed to the Wall, vast behind them. "That thing will burn through every stone, every frozen span of it, as if it were tinder. You stay here, you die. That's the truth of it."
Panic rippled like wildfire. Voices rose, some shrill, some defiant.
"The Wall's stood eight thousand years!" a sergeant barked, though his voice trembled.
"And it'll stand another night!" said another, trying to laugh.
Jon rounded on them, his voice thunder in the courtyard. "Enough! The Wall is not made to withstand dragonfire, nor whatever foul sorcery fuels the beast he rides. You'll not hold here. You'll burn, every one of you. Get your weapons, get your food, and move. Retreat to the Last Hearth if you can. It matters not where, just away. Away from this cursed Wall before it falls atop your bones!"
A heavy silence followed. The truth weighed on them like a blade pressed to the throat.
One of the younger brothers croaked, "If we abandon the Wall, what of the dead? What of the oath we swore?"
Jon's eyes flashed. "And what good will your oath be when your flesh is ash and your bones scattered, or do you wish to be part of his undead army? Dead men keep no vows. Live this night, and you may yet fight tomorrow somewhere where you can actually fight. Stay, and you'll be nothing but cinders for the crows."
Another ranger, breathless, cried out, "Send word to Eastwatch, to the Shadow Tower! They must know!"
Jon seized on it. "Aye! You..." he pointed to a steward already white with fear, "...send ravens now. To Eastwatch by the Sea, to the Shadow Tower. Tell them this in plain words: "Leave the Wall or you'll be facing death and Dragon fire. Do not delay or doubt these words."
The courtyard exploded into motion. Men scrambled for packs, for shields, for steel. Some cursed, some prayed, some shook with fear as they ran. Armor clattered, boots stamped, horses whinnied in alarm. The sound of the gate chains groaned again as carts were hauled toward the open yard.
The rangers, still pale and battered from their flight, shouldered through, urging the men on. "Move, damn you! Didn't you hear him? there is a bloody dragon coming!"
Above, horns began to sound, loud and urgent, echoing across the Wall. They were no longer calls of defiance they were warning, retreat and desperation.
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