A shadow appeared among the trees, moving silently, drawing near.
A woman... clad in white furs, her hair white as ice, and her eyes blue as the sky.
Her voice was calm: "I have been looking for you."
The men stood swiftly, Tormund gripping his axe: "Who are you?"
But she did not spare them a glance. Her eyes were fixed only on Jon: "It's your fault."
Jon, with slow steps: "Who are you?... And why do you accuse me?"
She stepped closer: "What was imprisoned for years... has returned."
Silence... then she whispered: "And It's your fault."
Jon's expression hardened: "Cease saying that... who are you?"
She looked at him: "I am... Elizabeth... the last of the Iceblood people."
Tormund whispered: "Who?"
But Jon did not blink: "Explain..."
"We... have lived beyond the Wall since the dawn of days... and we protect the realm of the living from death," Elizabeth said quietly.
A chill ran down Jon's spine: "Do you mean...?"
Elizabeth sighed, as though bearing the history of the entire world: "Before the White Walkers... before the Long Night... there was something older."
The fire in the camp flared suddenly, as if answering her words, as if the earth itself were listening.
"Neither dead... nor living..." she said, gesturing to the surrounding snow.
"Entities... forged from a balance... between fire and ice."
Jon's eyes widened: "A balance... how?"
Elizabeth shook her head: "But balance does not endure."
She raised her eyes to him: "They divided... some chose ice... and some... fire."
A heavy silence... then Jon whispered: "Who was that entity we saw...?"
She whispered slowly: "He is the first of them."
Tormund, bewildered: "The first? Do you mean the commander?"
She looked at him coldly: "No... the origin... the beginning."
The blood froze in the veins of all present... and Jon said slowly: "And why... why me?"
Elizabeth drew closer: "Because you are... both."
She whispered: "The blood of fire... and the blood of ice."
Jon took a step back: "No... no... that is impossible."
But she cut him off:
"You were brought back to life... by fire."
"And you lived... in the ice."
Suddenly... the blue fire... ignited in Jon's hand once more, though weaker than before.
Jon looked at it in shock...
Elizabeth smiled faintly: "You know what you must do."
A distant scream, Ghost howling fiercely... Jon: "What is it?"
Behind the trees... and in the distant mountains, a blue glimmer... far away, flashing and vanishing, yet unmistakable...
Tormund, hefting his axe and looking around: "Seven hells... there is nowhere to hide..."
"Will we live long enough to see him again?" said one of the women, trembling and clutching her child.
Jon did not answer. He looked at the fire in his hand, then to Elizabeth with hesitation: "Why... why are you here?"
"To aid you," Elizabeth said with confidence, yet warily.
Jon cut her off: "Do you know a way to destroy him?"
Elizabeth's smile did not reach her eyes: "There is only one way."
Then she stood and began to walk...
They did not wait for the dawn. Everyone began to pack their belongings.
Jon, pulling his cloak tighter: "The faster we move... the better."
Elizabeth walked ahead of them, her steps steady, as if she had known the path since her birth.
Tormund whispered, his eyes on Elizabeth: "I do not trust her."
Jon said quietly, his hand resting on his sword: "Nor do I... but we need her."
They began the march with cautious steps. The blue glimmer was still watching them, and they knew not when they would face it... today... or tomorrow.
Seven nights of marching passed... and the storm grew fiercer with every step... breathing became harder.
Provisions were few and the horses exhausted... the men were weary... yet they pressed on.
One of the men: "Where are we going?"
"I know not... we are starved and weary... I do not think we can go on," replied one of the women in a trembling voice.
Suddenly... Elizabeth halted, and raised her hand... upon the mountain peak stood a towering white castle.
Tormund scowled: "The mountain peak... are you jesting?"
Jon stood still... then Elizabeth whispered: "The White Castle... the heart of the North."
They began to march toward the entrance of the castle wall... but Elizabeth surrendered the vanguard to Jon and began to veil her face... Jon did not understand, but he kept walking.
Suddenly... a great host of soldiers halted them: "Hold your ground... who are you... and what is your business here?" said one of the soldiers in a gruff voice.
Tormund annoyance: "And what is your business with us?"
One of the soldiers dismounted his horse and laid a hand upon his sword... Tormund took up his axe, ready for a fight, while Jon tried to stay his hand...
But... the soldier caught sight of Elizabeth among them... "I did not expect to see you here, Princess," the soldier said with reverence.
Jon, in astonishment: "Princess... how?"
Elizabeth cut his thoughts short with a command: "Open the gates."
The soldiers opened the gates of the wall, and all were stunned by long stairs leading them up the mountain.
Jon, with resolve: "There is not much left... come... let us climb."
They began to ascend the stairs, every step feeling like a climb to the heavens... upon arriving... they stood in awe.
A colossal castle touching the clouds, its walls forged of pure white stone...
Jon, slowly: "What... is this place?"
Elizabeth, with a smile: "Welcome to the House of Iceblood."
"Here... my people shall tend to you... until you are ready."
Tormund, with wide eyes: "Ready?"
The winds howled madly around the castle. Jon stood before the massive gates, studying them in silence. A colossal white wall, smooth as a mirror... yet carrying an air of dread...
Tormund muttered as he looked up: "This place does not seem fit for the likes of us..."
Before Jon could reply... the gates trembled... a deep sound... as if the ice itself were shifting.
Then... they opened... slowly.
And from within... they marched forth... soldiers.
Their armor was entirely white, polished as if forged from pure ice, and their eyes were a cold blue, devoid of any hesitation.
One stepped forward, the tallest of them, bearing a sword as white as snow, and his voice rang sharp: "Where have you been, Princess?"
He looked directly at Elizabeth. "The king has been looking for you."
Silence.
Then he added, his tone heavier: "And he is... wroth."
Elizabeth looked at him without fear: "Make way."
The soldier hesitated for a moment... then signaled to his men. "Make way."
They entered... but the cold stares of the Iceblood people were far from welcoming...
The soldiers led them through long corridors, until they reached a vast hall. Blue candles lined the walls, and at its center stood a raised dais... and upon it... the Ice Throne.
The King sat upon it, silent, his eyes fixed on his daughter... Elizabeth.
He did not speak... he only... watched.
Then... he stood... slowly.
A step... then another...
Until he stood directly before her. "You left...without telling me."
His voice was not raised... but it was heavier than a shout.
Elizabeth did not lower her gaze: "Yes."
A slap.
The sound echoed through the hall... Elizabeth's cheek grew red.
Tormund took a step forward, but Jon stopped him with his hand, without looking at him.
The King said sharply: "Without guards."
Another step. "Without telling me."
He drew closer. "And you return... with strangers?!"
Elizabeth raised her head, clutching her cheek in pain: "I had no choice."
The King roared: "There is always a choice!"
A heavy silence... then he turned suddenly toward Jon.
His eyes flared with a murderous cold: "And you..."
Jon took a step forward. "My name is Jon S..."
The King cut him off instantly: "I know who you are..."
He fell silent for a moment, then said: "What matters... is that you have led the enemy to my realm."
"Because of you... we stand on the brink of war with an enemy that has been hidden since an age long past," the Hand of the King with fury.
Jon tightened his grip on his sword: "The war is coming... whether you wish it or not."
The King smiled a cold, mocking smile: "wrong."
He took a step closer. "War comes with men like you."
Tormund muttered: "I do not like this man..."
The King continued: "Hear me well... take your men... and leave."
Jon interrupted him: "No."
The hall froze... and the soldiers laid their hands upon their swords, ready to take Jon by force... but the King halted them, and narrowed his eyes: "You are in no position to refuse."
Jon, with a steady voice: "And you are in no position to ignore what we have seen."
Silence.
"There is something... older than death itself... coming."
The King, coldly: "And why should that concern me?"
The Hand of the King, with confidence: "We have fought it for centuries... what is new in this?"
Jon took a step forward:
"This time... he is looking for me... he wants me."
And before he could answer... Elizabeth intervened: "Father... stop."
The King looked at her sharply: "Do not interfere."
But she stepped forward, standing between them: "The High Elder... he is the one who sent me."
Silence... The King did not move... he only... looked at her. "Repeat what you said."
Elizabeth, steadily: "The High Elder... he is the one who sent me... to find him," she pointed to Jon.
The King laughed... a short laugh... bereft of belief: "Him?"
He looked at Jon with disdain: "This man... he does not bear our blood... nor does he possess our power."
The King took a step forward and said: "I will not wager the fate of my people... for a man... who claims to possess our power."
Jon said quietly: "You are wrong."
All within the hall turned to him... Jon raised his hand slowly... it trembled...
Then... a spark appeared... a fire... blue... weak... but real.
One of the soldiers whispered: "What...?"
All present were in a state of shock... The Hand of the King, his eyes wide: "Impossible."
The King looked at the fire... then at Jon. "How...?"
The fire extinguished amidst the awe of all... Jon clenched his fist: "I make no false claims."
The King: "You do not even know how to wield it."
Jon remained silent... the King's words struck true... even now, he did not know how to control it.
Suddenly... Elizabeth knelt before the King: "Father... I beg of you."
"He may not be the only hope... but we need him."
The King looked at her, and the fury in his eyes turned into something far more dangerous... fear. "Hope?" he said slowly.
"Hope... is what kills nations."
"You have failed me, my daughter... it seems your mother's sacrifice was in vain."
Then he turned away... stood silent for a moment... then said: "Take him... to the High Elder."
Tormund stopped Jon: "Will you go with them... alone?"
Jon replied in his ear: "Be ready for anything."
The soldiers escorted Jon, with Elizabeth in the lead, down to an underground crypt.
Narrow corridors... cold... ancient.
Until they reached a circular chamber, its walls covered in strange runes...
And in its center... an old man... seated... his eyes closed.
Yet he was strange in appearance... his hair was black as night, unlike the Iceblood people who boasted hair as white as ice.
Jon entered... halted... he felt... something... as if this place... he knew it well.
The High Elder smiled, his eyes still shut. And he said:
"Jon Snow... you have finally arrived."
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