[Chapter Size: 3200 Words.]
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Thrid Person POV
North, 296 AC.
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The screams began to echo that night, filled with death and terror, from a er of the camp. Everyone was fused, exg in shock, as if they were under a wild invasion.
The panic spread rapidly throughout the camp, and soon more screams and rumors surfaced. It wasn't a wild attack, as they first thought; shouts about monsters, undead, and corpses attag them quickly circuted among the soldiers, many of whom ran in the opposite dire.
The camp's first line of defense began to crumble as more and more corpses advanced, growling and g victims oer ahe southern soldiers could hardly react to the terror of seeing indescribable monsters before them, fighting more out of desperation than attempting to maintain any formation.
"What are these things?!"
"By the Seven, save us!"
"How we defeat these monsters?!"
Terrified cries burst forth desperately as more and more undead pressed them, beginning to iheir positions, killing ahey could, leaving more and more southerners as corpses scattered across the snow.
Lord Westerling quickly advaoward the otion with his men and members of the Night's Watch, running to see what was happening. He moved through the rows of men, gazing at the ses before him, filled with shog excmations.
The campfires began to spread due to the chaos, settis abze, illuminating everything and giving the people a clearer view of the horrors unfolding.
"This… by the gods…" He stopped with his men, watg a veritable wave of the dead advang toward them. Soldiers tried to stab the creatures, but they wouldn't stop even as their bodies were cut; they tinued growling and killing more and more soldiers.
Lord Westerling froze, his face locked in horror. Even the Night's Watch members present trembled as they watched the ghastly creatures, unsure of what they were, with bright blue eyes and animalistiarls.
"We have to do something against them!" excimed a man beside Westerling, equally terrified.
Lord Westerling looked at a member of the Night's Watearby and quickly questioned him, " you tell me what these things are?"
"I don't know. I've never seen anything like this," answered Qhorin Halfhand, wearing the same fearful expression as his rades, losing all the fidence of an experienced fighter.
"You're saying you don't know what these things are? Fine... we o stop them!" The ander swiftly began anizing his men as they approached, giving orders to everyone around. "Stand firm, men! We'll fight against these monsters!" Lord Westerling anded, despite his fear, trying to trol the situation.
The men began to listen, starting to hahe creatures more effectively. The battle raged on throughout the night, with arctic owls watg the age from the trees.
When dawn broke, the camp was shrouded in smoke, with tents and trees burhe southern soldiers bore expressions of shod exhaustion after aire night of fighting, looking over the remains of their fallen rades, who were being carried like dead animals to be thrown into massive pits for burning, with several such pits scattered around.
In the end, they had mao witle against the dead, but not without losing more and more men. The undead had been easier to hahan they first thought, as they seemed quite mindless, and amid the chaos, they discovered that fire could destroy them. They then began to use all the campfires.
Even so, the damage was done: nearly 1,500 men had been killed by about 200 of those creatures that ihe camp. Many of the dead, who should have been their panions, began to rise, and, horrified, they still won. Lord Westerling ordered them to be quickly burned so they wouldn't turn into those creatures.
Lord Westerling, with a tired gaze, still felt his hands shaking after a night filled with screams and bat. His men were equally shaken; none of them had ever imagined fag anything like this.
" any of you tell me exactly what happened here tonight? I'll ask one more time!" demanded Lord Westerling, casting a severe gaze at the Night's Watch men, eager for answers about what had occurred.
"We don't know what these things are. We've never heard of anything like this…" they replied, huddled in a er of the open camp, their faces showing exhaustion and fear. They watched one of the few creatures they had mao capture, bound and snarling as it struggled to break free from the ropes.
"Is this it now? What are these things?" another man asked, grimag at the sight.
"Haha… HAHAHAHA!" Suddenly, someone burst into ughter. Lord Westerling turned and saw the cart holding the captured wildlings. One of them, with a disdainful expression, said, "It looks like they marked you. You won't live much longer and soon will be part of the dead."
"We warned you, southerner," mocked a woman beside him, ughing along with the other prisoners.
"Shut up!" Lord Westerling shouted, while the wildlings merely ughed at him.
"What should we do, sir?" one of the soldiers asked, returning to his ander, visibly nervous about the situation. The mission was now severely promised. They had lost 1,500 men in a single night and spent the entire m burning the bodies. With so many casualties, the army was down by nearly 10%.
"There are probably more of these things out there…" Lord Westerling murmured, beginning to pohe step. Looking at his men, he decided, "We'll tinue for a while longer. At the very least, we'll see where Artica is. But I want everyone alert to anything that moves from now on, especially at night. Prepare the bonfires."
The orders were given, and the army—where many now prayed to the southern gods—stopped their prayers and began pag up to tihe march, fearing another enter with those creatures but uo disobey the and.
The rest of the day was a slow march, with the soldiers talking amongst themselves and expressing their fears.
In the middle of the afternoon, as they reached a rise, they finally spotted what they were looking for. On the horizon, Artica stood out, with a small wall visible in the distance. But what truly domihe ndscape was an immeree over 120 meters tall.
"What is that?" excimed some of the Night's Watch men, astoo see Artica for the first time.
"How strange… I don't see any snow there… but it's too far to really tell," murmured another.
"Look at the size of that wall; it's huge!" The wall was visible even 250 kilometers away.
"It seems we've found what we were looking for… is that a tree? How is that possible?" ented Lord Westerling, a hint of admiration in his voice as he gazed at the distant site.
"Shall we go back, sir?" asked a man beside him, clearly relut to tier the horrors of the previous night.
Westerling shook his head and replied, "Not yet. I want to get closer. We're already ierritory and must press ardless. Let's desd from here and push one more day to survey the area."
They all nodded, beginning the dest into the lrouering a forest just before nightfall, where they set up a rge camp for their 14,500 men.
This time, they were especially tense, watg the trees in the darkness, alert to any movement that might signal the presence of those mohat had attacked them the night before.
So far, all seemed calm, but their fears soon proved justified. The creatures began to emerge once more from the shadows of the forest, spreading panic through the ranks.
"They're back!!" Shouts erupted throughout the camp as more and more dead advaoward them. The soldiers quickly anized with bows and arrows by the fires, ung fming arrows into the oning horde, watg as the creatures were hit and began to burn.
Lord Westerling swiftly took the front of the army, anizing them into a formation for prote. As more and more of the dead appeared, their numbers were eveer than those faced the night before.
They seemed to be mog the southerners, and that's exactly what was happening because, at a distance, a figure even more horrid than the undead loomed—a White Walker, atop his corpse horse, watg the tless men he could turn into his soldiers. He only had to wait for a rger group of the dead that he was already summoning. In the meantime, he would watch as more and more of them fell.
The battle raged on, with the southerners leading much more effectively than the previous night, but even so, they faced an even rger group of undead.
In the end, as the sun began to rise, Lord Westerling realized he had lost over 500 men, a frustration that g him.
"Will these things op attag us?!" Westerling's patience was fraying as he grappled with the uling thought that they might be under stant attack.
"We should go back south, my lord! We ot face these creatures again!" pleaded a guard.
"He's right… morale is low among the men… no one wants to press on anymore…" added another.
"We are not going back!" Lord Westerling replied firmly, though clearly shaken, trying to maintain trol and order. "Not before we get close to Artica. Enough talk! Start marg again!"
They all obeyed, though relutly, resuming their trek north. For a time, everything seemed normal as the army marched, but this ged when an unusual snowstorm began to form. At first, it was small, but it greidly, shrouding their entire view and leaving them w where it had e from. Soon, they were pletely blinded, and, from all sides, the creatures began to emerge again, catg them by surprise.
"Prepare to fight!" Lord Westerling shouted, trying to stand firm and maintain order as chaos erupted again.
The battle began, and they quickly found themselves at a disadvah their vision obscured. Uo start a fire in the midst of it all, more and more men fell, uo resist the dead, already exhausted from the night's fighting. It was as if the undead were there just to wear them down, leaving them drained and defenseless, as was happening now.
"We must get out of here, ander!" other nobles demanded, urging him to leave this nightmare. Even ander Westerling himself, frightened, made a swift decision.
"Retreat! Retreat!" In this moment of despair, Lord Westerling realized they could not hold out and began a withdrawal, retreating as he watched his men fall in the distance.
There was nothio do; they o escape the storm as quickly as possible. They ran, pursued by the dead, with terrified horses and men on foot, struggling to escape.
The army scattered, and ander Westerling tried to keep as maogether as possible, regretting that he had pressed forward in this madness, though he believed the result would have been the same had they gone south.
Meanwhile, the creatures, with eyes glowing coldly amidst the snow, watched everything with a macabre smile. It was exactly what they wao divide the humans. After that, it would be much easier t them down, merely tiring them out and ensuring they never reached those walls—walls that even the White Walker himself could not approach.
Meanwhile, in Artica, Serina held Lyanna and Jon in her arms, watg with as Eragon began moving toward the castle, ign the protests of the other smaller dragons.
"What is he pnning to do?" a royal guard murmured, watg Eragon closely, for the giant dragon appeared angry.
"If I'm not mistakeends to attack the southern army now that he's seheir presence close to Artica. His Majesty gave him orders to act when necessary," Brynden remarked, also the dragon's behavior as Eragon growled at the sky, beginning to leave the younger dragons behind.
Everyoched as the dragon, beyond anyone's trol, spread its wings, gaining momentum and ung into the sky above Artica, s high until it cleared the great Weirwood, climbing to an eveer altitude.
"What should we do?" Aemon, also present, murmured, watg the drago as Bryuro the queen.
"What do you suggest, Queen of Artica?" he asked. Serina had been receivis of southern movements the eime, yet she had chosen not to send men beyond Artica's borders. But now, with Eragon leaving, she had to act.
"My husband made it clear we should fight any enemy approag Artica. Summon Du and tell him to raise an army of 16,000 men. We 't let Eragon do it all alone, we?" she replied, as everyone nodded quickly, preparing to signal the orders to soldiers across the city through the wargs.
Unaware of the winged figure about to leave Artid desd upohe southerners mao escape the snowstorm, though they were scattered widely and had to abandon all their belongings.
"This…" A rge group gathered at one spot, breathing heavily. The storm was still over five kilometers away, and more men were joining as they spotted the group, hoping they could escape, while others spread out in different dires.
"How many do we have here?" Lord Westerling asked a soldier, surveying the desperate situation.
"I believe only 8,000 men, sir…" he replied, regret in his voice.
"You're telling me we've lost half our entire force? This is beyond shameful," he murmured in shock.
"What should we do now? Should we gather our supplies? We won't survive with so few resources," another nobleman ented in a panic.
"Are you mad? Going back there is suicide! We'll die, and if the men turn into those beasts?" The soldiers began tue, overtaken by fear.
"Even so, we must…" Before they could react, a tremendous roar echoed across the sky. All eyes lifted, incredulous, as they saw a winged creature flying toward the storm.
The fallen southerners began to rise again as wights, their numbers exceeding 4,000, soon attag with a force of 1,000 more wights withiorm.
Now, the White Walker was ready to hunt down all who remained. Satisfied that he had divided the humans, he prepared for yet another massacre.
But then, something emerged from the sky—a roar so powerful it made the ground tremble. Suddenly, the eorm began to dissipate, and the White Walker looked skyward, astonished, at the massive creature flying toward them.
It was Eragon, advang upon the creatures he despised most: the uhat hauhe northern nds around Artica, those his father fought and sought to destroy.
Eragon focused first on the undead, targeting the wights and the White Walker he had sensed upon his arrival. He dove at full speed, leaving the creatures little time to react before a torrent of fmes erupted from his mouth, apanied by a deafening roar. The red fmes swept over the ground, redug the uo ash instantly under Eragon's seari, devastating the ndscape as his fire ed everything around.
Satisfied with the result, Eragon turned, looping back to ie another cluster of hundreds, even thousands, of creatures, spreading his fmes like a red sea across the white snow and annihiting thnant abominations.
But then, he felt something and quickly veered aside, narrowly avoiding an icy spear that flew past him. With a pierg gaze, Eragon spotted, in the distance, a humanoid figure on horseback, preparing another spear. It was a White Walker, just as his father had told him. Eragon had never seen one before, and his sapphire eyes filled with fury. Without hesitation, he charged straight toward the creature, fearless, ready to front it.
The mounted figure readied another spear to attack, but the dragon maintained a steady flight, advang ever faster toward the White Walker. When the spear was hurled with force, Eragarded it with disdain. Taking a deep breath, he unleashed a white, icy bst of fmes, shattering the ice spear in midair the moment it touched.
The White Walker was stuo see this but had only a moment to react as the dragon closed within teers, releasing another burst of white fmes, spreading like aorm over him.
Disbelieving, the White Walker realized that these white fmes could indeed harm him. For the first time, he felt something that could truly kill him, beyond dragongss and Valyrian steel. Bit by bit, he began to break apart and fall to the ground, and all the dead around him colpsed with him, lifeless.
Seeing the corpses, not yet ed by fire, lying on the ground without that neantic magiimating them, Eragon decided not to leave any ce for them to rise again. He quickly began spewing fire over the bodies, eliminating any threat that might surfa the future.
The southern men, watg the battle from a distance, withe spectacle in disbelief, seeing the dragon scorch everything in his path kilometers away as fmes spread across the ndscape. They questioned what was happening there and, more importantly, what a dragon was doing there—weren't dragons supposed to be extinct?
"Are we safe here, far from him, milord?" a man murmured.
"I… I don't know, we should…"
Lord Westerling barely had time to finish his sentence because the dragon seemed to have pleted its task. Eragon rose once more into the sky, then turoward them, beginning his approach. Lord Westerling could see death approag as the dragon looked upon them as if they were the arget to be eradicated.
Eragon had vanquished those vile creatures; now he o elimihe humans invading his and his father's nd.
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