Chapter 22: The Wolf Dream's Warning
After watching Tarly and his detachment ride off into the distance, Saelen turned back to the field of corpses and spoke gravely to the others.
"We need to burn them."
Soon, the air was thick with the acrid stench of lamp oil and the nauseating smell of scorched rot. As the bodies burned, deep crimson flames surged upward, streaked through with eerie blue light. From the towering pyre came strange, rasping hisses—sounds that seemed unwilling to fade even in death.
Standing before the others, Saelen held up a dragonglass dagger and addressed Robb, Jon, and the rest.
"This is dragonglass," he said. "It's said to be able to kill these creatures."
As he spoke, he drove the dagger into a wight's eye socket. The corpse let out a shrill, piercing scream—then went completely still, its unnatural life extinguished at last.
Ser Rodrik Cassel, who had only just recovered from his injuries, frowned deeply.
"What are these things?" he asked. "A man dies, yet his body rises again. Can such a thing still be called human?"
"Strictly speaking, they're no longer human," Saelen replied quietly. "What moves them is the White Walkers' dark magic. In other words, these wights are nothing more than puppets—slaves driven by the will of the Others."
Leobald Tallhart seemed to grasp the implication at once.
"White Walkers? Then these were only wights… So where are the Walkers themselves?"
"Who knows?" Saelen said lightly, though his eyes were sharp.
"Perhaps they're nearby—watching us from the shadows even now."
A ripple of unease passed through the group. The wights alone had nearly overwhelmed them. The thought that something far worse might be lurking close at hand made several men shift nervously.
Robb stepped forward, raising his voice to steady the others.
"What are you afraid of?" he said firmly. "You are warriors of the North. You fight for your families, for your children. We struggled earlier because we didn't know how to fight them. Now we do."
Saelen followed immediately.
"That's right. What you're holding now are dragonglass weapons—one dagger, one spear per man. Archers have three quivers of dragonglass arrows. With these, the wights can be killed. Let them come—however many there are."
The men straightened, their fear giving way to resolve.
Eddard Karstark, however, asked the question on everyone's mind.
"And these dragonglass weapons… can they kill White Walkers as well?"
All eyes turned to Saelen.
The answer to that question would decide everything.
Saelen met everyone's gaze with calm confidence.
"Of course they can," he said. "The White Walkers are also driven by magic. Dragonglass is extremely effective against this kind of dark sorcery. As long as you can drive a dragonglass weapon into a White Walker's body, it will work."
Seeing how certain he was, the tension in the group eased somewhat, their confidence steadily rising.
"Saelen, it's getting late," Qhorin Halfhand said at this point. "We should push on to Whitetree Village and rest there for the night. Damn it, this place is cursed—I don't like it one bit."
The others readily agreed. No one felt comfortable lingering here any longer.
Saelen accepted the suggestion and ordered everyone to stay alert. Under Qhorin's lead, the group set off toward Whitetree Village.
---
By the time they arrived, night had fully fallen. The village was long abandoned, but at least there were structures that could shelter them from the wind and snow. After assigning rotating night watches, Saelen ordered everyone to rest in several larger buildings rather than spreading out, minimizing the risk of surprise attacks.
Jon sat by a fire, staring blankly into the orange flames. It was already past midnight, and his watch had begun.
Ever since he had agreed to follow Saelen beyond the Wall, everything seemed different. The Night's Watch he had once admired—heroes bound by honor—had revealed itself to be little more than a collection of prisoners and exiles. The truth left him shaken and deeply disappointed.
Benjen's disappearance, followed by their brutal encounter with the wights, forced him to confront another reality: the world was not built on honor alone. It was also built on death.
At times, a shameful thought crept into his mind—was it really worth risking so many lives for a First Ranger whose fate was unknown? The thought disgusted him. Benjen was his closest kin. Even if he were dead, his body deserved to be found and returned to Winterfell, laid to rest in the crypts.
Then another voice whispered coldly in his mind: You don't belong there.
He was no Stark. There was no place for him in Winterfell's crypts. And now, it seemed, there was no place for him in the Night's Watch either. Perhaps, in the end, all that awaited him was the life of a wandering knight.
With a bitter sigh, Jon realized he was no longer the boy who believed honor alone could define a man.
Suddenly, Saelen jolted upright, gasping for breath.
The abrupt movement snapped Jon back to reality.
"What's wrong, Saelen?" Jon asked with concern. "Did you have a nightmare?"
"It was a wolf dream," Saelen replied.
Jon's expression immediately darkened. He remembered well what Saelen had told him—wolf dreams were never meaningless. Each one carried a warning or a vision. The only question was what could be discerned from it.
"A wolf dream?" Jon asked cautiously, scanning the darkness around them. "What did you see?"
Saelen stared straight at Jon as he answered, his voice low.
"I saw White Walkers leading an army of wights, surrounding us… and turning all of us into wights."
He left out one detail: in that vision, Jon and Robb had not become wights—they had become White Walkers themselves.
Saelen didn't understand what that meant. Why only those two? Was it because they were Starks? Was the Night King a Stark as well? And what about Craster? Could he also be descended from House Stark?
The White Walkers were said to be created from sacrificed sons. There had to be a connection—but there simply wasn't enough information yet to draw any firm conclusions.
Jon noticed Saelen's intense stare and felt uneasy.
"Saelen," he said, "what should we do? Is this dream a warning? Should we wake everyone up right now?"
Saelen snapped out of his thoughts.
"It is a warning," he said. "But I can't tell whether it's something about to happen—or something further in the future. Even if it's imminent, what could we do in the middle of the night? There's nowhere to run. We're better off staying put and watching carefully."
Jon thought it over and nodded.
"Then I won't wake them yet. I'll check the surrounding sentries and make sure they stay alert."
With that, he headed toward the nearest guard post.
Neither of them noticed that the temperature around them had begun to drop. Outside, thin layers of frost were quietly forming across the ground.
After Jon left, Saelen gave up on sleep entirely. After a moment's thought, he opened his system interface.
---
Name: Saelen Stark
Note: This surname is forcibly bound by the system and cannot be altered.
Strength: 5.62 + 0.02
(Can be further improved through training)
Agility: 3.36 + 0.02
(Can be further improved through training)
Endurance: 4.56 + 0.02
(Can be further improved through training)
Spirit: 10
(Max level reached. Complete construction tasks to unlock further upgrades. Can be increased by killing magical creatures. Host may control up to 10 animals simultaneously.)
[Congratulations! Spirit has reached Level 10. Construction tasks unlocked. Scroll down to view.]
Mana: 10
(Gained by killing magical creatures:
Wight +0.1 | White Walker +10 | Night King +100)
Mana: 0 (Exchange)
Spirit: 0 (Exchange)
Exchange Rate: 1:1
Swordsmanship: Max
Archery: Max
Spear Technique: Max
Horsemanship: Max
Construction Progress:
✔ Porcelain Factory — Completed
✔ Glass Factory — Completed
✔ Weapons & Armor Workshop — Completed
✖ Papermaking Workshop — Not Completed
---
The night was far from over.