The Wall.
Castle Black.
Lord Commander Jeor Mormont of the Nights Watch stood atop The Wall, his wrinkled face red from the biting cold wind.
Frost clung to his grizzled beard, and his gaze pierced through the endless snowfield, looking towards the distant North.
Ever since Lynn led the wildlings south, The Wall had enjoyed a long-awaited peace.
Without the harassment of the wildlings, the abandoned fortresses from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to Shadow Tower no longer seemed so dilapidated.
Everything appeared so tranquil.
Yet, Jeor's heart remained heavy.
The Long Night is coming.
These four words pressed on his heart like an iceberg.
Suddenly.
"Woo—woo—woo—"
A desolate, ancient horn sound, unlike anything earthly, came from the southernmost horizon.
The sound pierced through the wind and snow, crossed thousands of miles of frozen land, and clearly reached the ears of every Night's Watchman.
It wasn't loud, but it seemed to echo directly in the depths of one's soul.
The Night's Watchmen on The Wall stopped their work one after another, looking south with surprise and uncertainty.
"Is that a horn?"
A young Ranger asked uncertainly.
"It doesn't sound like ours,"
The veteran beside him shook his head, his face full of confusion,
"This sound… it's damn eerie."
Jeor Mormont's face darkened.
"What is that sound?"
Jeor muttered to himself.
He had never heard such a strange horn sound.
However, the moment his words fell, the eight-thousand-year-old solid ice wall beneath his feet let out its first painful groan.
"Crack—"
A faint but spine-chilling crisp sound.
Immediately followed by a second, a third… like a plague, countless spiderweb-like cracks furiously spread outwards from the external ice layer of The Wall!
"By the Seven Gods! The… The Wall is cracking!"
A Night's Watchman pointed at the continuously widening crack beneath his feet, letting out a terrified scream.
Panic instantly erupted!
The entire Castle Black fell into chaos.
People screamed, pushing and shoving, trying to escape the ice and snow wall that seemed to be collapsing.
"Hold steady! Everyone, hold steady!"
Jeor drew the standard Nights Watch longsword from his waist, his voice like thunder.
"We are the Nights Watch! The sword in the darkness! The Wall is our life!"
However, his roar seemed so pale and powerless amidst the creaking sounds of The Wall, like the mournful cry of a giant beast.
Blocks of ice as large as houses began to peel off The Wall, falling into the courtyard below with thunderous crashes.
Ice shards flew, and dust billowed into the sky.
The ancient horn sound had stopped, but its consequences were just beginning.
Jeor Mormont leaned against the battlement.
Looking at the massive crack that stretched from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea all the way to Shadow Tower, piercing through the entire Wall, and feeling the ancient magic rapidly draining from within the ice wall.
He knew it was over.
Westeros's shield was broken.
The Wall, though still retaining its form, had lost its intended purpose… Beyond the Wall, the Land of Always Winter.
This is a forbidden zone for life, a white desert where even time seems to freeze.
Upon a throne constructed of pure ice, a figure sat silently.
He wore a crown made of ice crystals and armor condensed with frost and snow.
His deep blue eyes seemed to contain the absolute zero of the universe's beginning.
The Night King.
The moment the horn of winter sounded, his ancient, unchanging eyes showed a flicker of emotion for the first time.
He felt it.
The magical shackles that had bound him for nearly ten thousand years were beginning to crumble from their foundation.
He raised his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through space and time, seeing the distant South, seeing the person who blew the horn.
He knew that Lynn must have known the consequences of blowing the horn of winter.
But Lynn still blew it.
This meant Lynn was even smarter than he had imagined.
He seemed to have discovered who the true enemy was.
His previous overtures to Lynn had not been in vain.
Thinking of this, the Night King slowly rose from his icy throne.
With the magic broken, he wasn't the only one to benefit; that damned Three-Eyed Raven would too!
Thinking of how the Three-Eyed Raven had sealed his soul in the Night King's body, and how he would endure a thousand years of cold solitude, a flicker of anger appeared in the Night King's eyes.
He didn't let out any roars like his wights; his movements were graceful and filled with an indescribable majesty.
Several ragged Wights, their eyes burning with blue flames, emerged from the shadows and knelt respectfully before him.
The Night King extended a pale finger, pointing at the Wight that appeared the most intact.
That Wight was once a wildling, killed on patrol, and later transformed into an undead.
The Night King's finger gently touched the Wight's brow.
A visible deep blue energy flowed into the Wight's body.
The blue flames in the Wight's eyes flared fiercely, then quickly receded, becoming like a deep starry sky, no longer pure slaughter and hunger, but instead gaining a hint of… sentience.
Then, the Night King turned and walked towards the back of the throne.
There, grew a tree blessed by the great other, long petrified but still radiating a faint vitality.
He broke off the thickest branch.
The branch seemed to be alive.
From the break, red, blood-like sap flowed.
The Night King handed this branch to the Other he had "blessed."
Then, he grabbed at the air.
A piece of profound ice, as thin as a cicada's wing yet harder than steel, appeared in his palm.
With another finger, using ice as paper and cold as ink, he carved lines of twisted yet powerful text onto it.
After writing, he carefully rolled up this profound ice letter, tied it with a thin string also made of ice, and handed it to another Other.
Having done all this, he waved his hand.
The two chosen Others, as if having received the highest command, turned and silently walked towards the South.
Their mission was not slaughter, but… delivering a letter.
The Night King watched their figures disappear into the wind and snow, then turned around.
He did not return to his throne.
Instead, he took steps, one by one, towards another direction.
That direction led to the Three-Eyed Raven's lair.
He had already learned the Three-Eyed Raven's exact location when Lynn went to the Fist of the First Men.
It must be said, Lynn had done him a great favor.
Now, Lynn had also helped him open his cage.
So, it was time for him to personally pay a visit to this Three-Eyed Raven, who hid behind the scenes, thinking he could manipulate everything.
He was going to completely erase that noisy crow, along with its nest, from this world!
...Weirwood Cave.
"Haha… hahahaha!"
An old and maniacal laugh echoed through the tangled maze of tree roots.
Brynden Rivers, who was fused with countless tree roots, had an unprecedented look of ecstasy in his single eye.
He felt it!
The horn of winter!
The weakening of The Wall's magic!
He had waited for hundreds of years, plotted for hundreds of years, all for this moment!
His plan had succeeded!
The pawn he had chosen had not disappointed him after all!
He was actually foolish enough to blow the horn of winter!
The Wall's magic could stop the Night King from going south, and it could also stop him!
And in order to survive, he had to merge with the weirwood.
As long as The Wall's magic completely disappeared and he found a new body, he could completely break free from the shackles of this damned weirwood.
His physical body and consciousness would no longer be confined to this small cave, but could spread like an invisible net, covering all of Westeros!
By then, he would become a true god!
No longer would he have to rely on pitifully weak crows to do his bidding.
He would guide the course of history, correct the wrong trajectories, and make this world develop in the direction he desired!
"Faster! Even faster!"
"Go help me see what exactly happened!"
The Three-Eyed Raven urged his power.
A large flock of crows flew out of the cave, darkening the sky, heading south.
However, just as his consciousness was about to cross The Wall with the flock of crows.
A chill capable of freezing the soul, like an invisible wall, instantly enveloped the entire cave!
"Boom!"
Brynden Rivers' consciousness, as if hitting an invisible mountain, was violently bounced back!
The ecstatic expression on his withered face instantly froze, replaced by extreme shock and anger.
"No!!"
He let out an unwilling roar.
He "saw" it.
Just outside the cave, the being he most feared, and the only one who could contend with him, was standing there silently.
The Night King!
How could he be here?!
Why does he know I'm here?
When was I exposed?
Shouldn't he be gathering his army and heading south immediately, taking advantage of The Wall's weakened magic?!
He had clearly given him extraordinary power; they could have cooperated!
Why wouldn't he just leave him alone!
The Three-Eyed Raven desperately slammed against the ice barrier.
But all his Greenseer power seemed so insignificant before the Night King's pure, ultimate death and cold.
He was like a bird trapped in a cage, only able to watch helplessly as the "mischievous child with a slingshot" outside the cage showed a playful smile.
The Night King did not attack.
He just stood there.
With an absolute blockade, he firmly suppressed all of the Three-Eyed Raven's perceptions and all his power within this small cave.
The Night King could feel that the magic within the cave had not completely disappeared.
But he could wait!
The magic would eventually fail!
He wanted this arrogant crow to personally watch his carefully laid chess game slowly spiral out of control.
He wanted him to slowly wither and rot in endless anger and despair.
Then, when the magic disappeared, he would personally cut off the Three-Eyed Raven's head!
"No——!!"
The Three-Eyed Raven let out the most angry and helpless roar of his life.
He had planned everything, calculated everything.
But he had not calculated one thing.
His greatest enemy actually knew his exact location, and instead of taking the best opportunity to go south, chose to play a "blocking the door" game with him here.
This madman!
Damn madman!
No, I still have a chance!
As long as that idiot Lynn finds him a new body, the crows he left outside can still possess it, and then he can break free!
His ambition was growing, no longer satisfied with immortality.
What he wanted was the supreme iron throne.
He also wanted to experience the feeling of being above everyone else!
...Castle Black, below The Wall.
Jeor Mormont, leading a team of the most elite Rangers, guarded behind the massive city gate as if facing a formidable enemy.
The trembling of The Wall had stopped, but the crack piercing through The Wall, like a hideous scar, constantly reminded them that the end was not far.
What frightened them even more were the uninvited guests on the snowfield.
Five ragged figures slowly emerged from the wind and snow.
They walked slowly, yet steadily.
As they drew closer, all the Night's Watchmen gasped.
Wights!
And Others!
They were the monsters, only existing in legends, transformed from the dead!
"Archers, prepare!"
Jeor's hand was already on his sword hilt.
The arrowheads had been replaced with obsidian, which could effectively damage Wights and Others!
However, those Wights did not launch a frantic attack.
They suddenly stopped about a hundred meters from the city gate.
The Other walking at the front slowly raised the object in its hand.
It was a branch still dripping with red sap.
Behind it, another Wight held up a letter.
A letter made of clear, crystalline ice.
They stood there silently, making no sound, showing no intention of attacking.
As if they were just… waiting.
The Night's Watchmen on The Wall were stunned.
What was happening?
A gift?
Or a provocation?
"Lord Mormont,"
A Ranger asked tremblingly.
"What… what should we do now?"
Jeor Mormont stared intently at the ice crystal scroll.
By the light of the torches, he could vaguely see a line of large characters written on the surface of the scroll, in runes he had never seen before.
It wasn't the Common Tongue.
But for some reason, he could understand the meaning of that line of text.
It was a name.
A name that made Jeor Mormont's heart pound.
"To the king-beyond-the-wall."
"Lynn."
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