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Snow fell in slow, thick curtains, muting even the whisper of the wind as Aeron stepped deeper in the haunted forest, his boots crunching softly, every exhale misting in the frozen gloom. His violet eyes glowed faintly, searching and looking left and right casting long shadows that crawled across the snow.
It took him little time to find his missing Shadow General.
The Cannibal, his monstrous shadow dragon was entombed, a mountain of black and shadow scale locked in jagged blocks of ice. The ice had crept over every limb, every wing, even across its jaws, sealing that fearsome maw shut. Blue frost clung to its ridges, veins of pale mist seeping from the prison like the breath of the Night King himself. The dragon's eye, once glowing violet, was dim frozen, silent, unresponsive.
Aeron stopped before the creature, tilting his head slightly, lips curling into a cold smirk.
"Well now," he murmured, his voice almost mocking his soldier "Look at you."
He walked a slow circle, boots dragging faint lines in the snow.
"How pathetic. The Great Cannibal, my greatest soldier, breaker of fortresses, terror of skies and all that, caught like a common beast in a hunter's trap. And not a sound out of you, hm?" His fingers brushed the cold ice, the frost crackling beneath his touch. "You truly let yourself be humbled, now what are you going to do about it."
There was no response only the faint crackle of the forest, the distant groan of shifting trees. Aeron exhaled through his nose, the smirk deepening.
"Let us not keep you in shame longer than needed."
He stepped back, the snow shifting under his heel, and lifted his hand. Shadows gathered around him first his own power, his own dominion but then came the answering heat: a glow like the beating heart of a forge. The [Red God's Wrath] built in his palm, coiling, snarling, its light harsh against the pale snow. Scarlet flames licked along his arm, wreathing his silhouette in an unholy halo that turned the falling flakes to steam.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then Aeron thrust his hand forward.
The blast of crimson fire roared like a beast unleashed, slamming into the ice with a hiss that split the silence wide open. Steam exploded outward in a violent gust, trees groaned and cracked beneath the heat, and shards of ice fell away in slabs they shattered against the ground. Again and again the holy fire burned, crawling up the dragon's frozen frame like a wrathful tide until the prison began to give way.
And then a sound, deep and angry, rumbled from within the ice.
The Cannibal's massive head shifted first, shards sliding off its muzzle. Its chest heaved, and with that breath came the first growl a guttural, monstrous vibration that sent flurries dancing from the trees. The final chains of frost splintered. One wing broke free, its shadow spreading, then the other. The dragon rose, eyes flaring with that terrible violet glow reborn.
The roar that followed shook the forest to its roots.
It was rage, it was fury, the dragon clearly wasn't pleased. Birds fled the treeline in frenzied clouds; snow cascaded from branches like rain. Far away, on the Wall, the men who were busy preparing to flee paused mid-stride and glanced north, their hearts stumbling at the echo that carried across the cold night.
Aeron only stood there, the flames dimming in his hand, his cloak snapping in the dying gust. A faint, dangerous smile curved his lips.
"Good, good." he said softly, the words almost lost beneath the echoing roar. "Let them hear it."
The dragon lowered its massive skull toward him, breath still steaming, rage not yet spent. Aeron reached up and laid a hand upon its horned jaw, his violet gaze locking with its eye.
"Let us make him pay for his insolence."
He stepped toward its side and swung up in one fluid motion.
"Come, Cannibal. There is blood yet to spill or rather, a little ice to break."
With a thunderous beat of newly freed wings, the shadow dragon launched itself skyward, snow exploding beneath it in a violent storm as it climbed into the howling dark.
****
EASTWATCH-BY-THE-SEA -
The men upon the Wall wrapped their cloaks tighter, the black of their furs rimed with frost. The sky above was a pale, heavy with the creeping blizzard that had lingered recently, but tonight… tonight it moved differently in a weird way. The mists swirled as though alive, as though the cold itself had a mission.
A young ranger squinted into the horizon, his fingers numb on the frosted stone of the battlement. "Do you see that?" he muttered, voice catching.
Another man, older, with a scar down his cheek, stepped up beside him. "See what? Gods, it's naught but cloud and storm."
"No," the younger said, pointing, his hand trembling though he tried to still it. "There...there's a shape. Wings… great bloody wings."
More gathered, boots crunching on frost. Some peered, some scoffed, others whispered prayers under their breath. The sea below churned black and white, ice gathering at its edges.
One man, a steward with a raven perched upon his arm, laughed nervously. "Could be one of the queen's beasts. Word is Daenerys Targaryen passed through Castle black recently."
Another, a grizzled veteran, shook his head slowly. "I've seen a dragon, the king's to be precise and that thing is a nightmare, besides I don't think the king would be..." his words cut short.
The shape descended through the mist at last, and the Wall itself seemed to groan under the weight of the sudden, unnatural cold. Frost raced along the stone, crackling, hissing as torches sputtered and died.
"Seven hells!" whispered one of the men, his breath turning to mist before his wide eyes. "It's… it's made of bloody Ice?!"
Then they saw it fully. Scales like fractured glass, wings torn yet held aloft by some hateful magic, and eyes two pinpoints of baleful, burning blue.
A horn sounded below, frantic and raw. Men scrambled on the steps, shouting, "Bar the gates! Man the scorpions!" though their hands trembled and their eyes betrayed doubt.
"This isn't one of the Queen's Dragons," the scarred man breathed. "or the King's!"
"No…" said the steward, his face drained of all color, the raven now flapping wildly as though to flee. "This one is a walker."
A figure upon the beast's neck turned its head then, a crown of cruel ice glinting pale in the stormlight. The Night King's gaze swept the Wall.
"Seven save us…" a ranger whispered, dropping to one knee, clutching his pendant. "Seven bloody save us all!"
There was no roar of fire, no heat of dragonflame. Instead, the creature opened its maw, and from its throat poured a beam of searing, blue-white destruction, frost and death entwined, tearing ice and stone alike.
The Wall shattered. Cracks spidered along it, as chunks the size of ships tumbled into the sea and ground below. Screams followed men running, men falling, men crushed beneath ancient ice.
"Fall back! FALL BACK!" the scarred man bellowed, shoving the younger ranger toward the inner stairs.
"Where?!" someone cried. "There's nowhere to run!"
"The Wall's no more!" another shouted, voice breaking with panic as the battlements crumbled.
The Night King did not pursue as men scattered like ants. He only turned the dragon's head, the icy glow spilling over the ruined fort of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. His army now can cross to the lands of the living.
And far away, at Castle Black, a horn sounded faintly one, then two, then three. The men there felt it in their bones before the news would even reach them. The Wall had been breached somewhere.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
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