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TWL Chapter - 65
🕑 Added 2025-01-22 00:50:48 +0000 UTCI didn't stay behind to watch the fallout; I was practically dead on my feet. I had to fix everyone's retinas before they went blind and heal any radiation damage they had.
Waiting for the shockwave to hit wasn't the smartest decision, but it was something I wouldn't regret.
I practically collapsed onto my bed once I reached my room, my mind feeling like it had been put through a blender.
Using however many parallel thought processes I had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, and it had no doubt kept me alive.
Now?
My brain felt like it was trying to melt through my ears.
"I need rest, Vaylara. I only have a few hours before we reach the wildlings' camp," I mumbled, not even bothering to open my eyes.
"I can see that, but we need to talk about what happened." Her spectral form flickered with concern, or maybe that was just my vision going wonky.
"Which part in particular? The part where I almost died, the part where I nuked the night king, or do you want to say I told you so?" Wow I didn't even have the energy to convey my sarcasm
"The dragon we created is awake." Her tone lacked any humor.
"In a way," I conceded, still keeping my eyes shut. "He hasn't hatched yet. Just... woke up when I was using his heart to jumpstart mine." I paused, remembering those reptilian eyes staring into my soul.
"You're forgetting how serious this..."
"Yes, I know exactly how serious that is, and it’s something we should talk about. But can we please not do this when my mind feels like it’s on fire?"
She seemed to understand how close I was to snapping. "Very well. But this conversation isn’t over."
I sighed at that and drifted off before I could think of something witty to say.
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Mance was not having a great day.
He paced restlessly in his tent, his mind churning with possibilities about what could have transpired.
He had sent some of his best people with the mage.
Their absence was already being felt, particularly during these crucial times when he needed every loyal warrior to help keep the tribes in check and stop them from panicking.
The first sign that something had gone terribly wrong came when the ground began to tremble beneath their feet. Not the gentle shake of distant movement, but a bone-deep vibration that made even the most seasoned warriors exchange uneasy glances.
But that was just the beginning.
What came next defied description - a presence so vast, so utterly alien, that it pressed down on their very souls.
The air grew thick, impossible to breathe, as if the weight of every winter that had ever been or would be had suddenly descended upon them.
The moment barely lasted a heartbeat that felt like an eternity. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the presence receded. But the unease remained, clinging to them like frost on fur.
Veterans of countless battles found their hands shaking, though none would admit it. Whatever force had stirred out there in the endless white was beyond anything their stories or songs had
prepared them for.
Mance had just begun to restore some semblance of order when the second impossible thing happened.
Without warning, night transformed into day.
The flash came like the gods themselves had decided to ignite the sky. Those unfortunate enough to be looking in that direction cried out, their vision filled with dancing spots of light and shadow. The brilliance painted the night sky in its eerie red.
Then came the sound.
Not just sound - a roar that made thunder seem like a whisper. It rolled across the frozen landscape like a physical force, rattling teeth and bones alike. Mance had seen avalanches that moved mountains with less fury.
The shockwave that followed nearly knocked him off his feet, and they were leagues away from whatever had birthed this madness.
As the light began to fade, leaving behind a strange, sickly glow on the horizon. In the distance, a pillar of fire and fury clawed its way into the heavens. The clouds themselves seemed to bow before it, parting like a curtain torn asunder by giant hands.
As he steadied himself, Mance couldn't even begin to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had a sinking feeling that the mage's hunt had not gone according to plan. The display of power suggested either a desperate last stand or... something else entirely.
Something that made his skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I just hope they made it out alive," he muttered to himself, watching as the strange glow in the distance slowly faded.
Those he'd sent with the mage weren't just capable warriors - they were instrumental in maintaining the delicate alliances he'd forged between the tribes.
Losing them would be a devastating blow, one that could unravel everything he'd worked so hard to build.
The whispers were already starting among the camp. Some claimed it was the end of the world, others that the Others had unleashed some terrible new weapon. A few even suggested the gods themselves had finally tired of their mortal squabbles.
Mance knew better.
He'd seen the look in Mage’s eyes, that barely contained power lurking beneath the surface.
Whatever had happened out there, he had a feeling it was just the beginning.
He could only hope he hadn't made a terrible mistake in agreeing to help the mage.
But then again, what choice did they really have? Winter was coming, and with it, something far worse than cold and darkness.
At least now he knew one thing for certain - the stories about the White Mage of Winterfell had not been exaggerated. If anything, they hadn't done him justice.
Mance settled back into his chair, pulling his furs tighter around himself. All he could do was wait and hope his people returned with answers—preferably before whatever had just happened outside decided to pay them a visit.
The ground trembled again.
His blood ran cold. "Not again."
But this wasn't the chaotic shaking from before. No, these vibrations had purpose—a steady rhythm that indicated something massive was moving with deliberate intent. His eyes were drawn to the northern edge of their camp, where the frozen ground had begun to bulge upward.
The frozen earth erupted in a shower of ice and dirt as something massive emerged - a creature that had no business existing in any sane world. Its circular maw gaped wide enough to swallow a mammoth whole, lined with rings of teeth that seemed to spiral into infinity.
Panic erupted instantly. Hardened warriors who had faced down armies scrambled backwards, their weapons falling from their hands. Women grabbed their children and ran.
Mance stood his ground, though every instinct screamed at him to flee. He'd seen many things beyond the Wall, but this... this was something else entirely.
Then, to everyone's bewilderment, people started walking out of the thing's mouth.
Not being spat out or escaping - just casually strolling out as if this was a perfectly normal way to travel.
He recognized Tormund first, the red-headed warrior looking absolutely gleeful.
Then Ygritte, followed by the others he'd sent with the mage. All alive, if somewhat pale.
The massive worm - because what else could you call it? - retreated back into the ground with surprising grace for something its size, leaving behind only a massive hole and a lot of confused wildlings.
"Where's the Mage?" Mance asked, noting his absence among the returning party.
Tormund's grin held a wild edge, like a man who'd witnessed something both terrifying and magnificent. "Still inside that beast of his, sleeping like a babe. After what he pulled out there..."
He gestured toward the horizon where that impossible light had carved a new dawn into the eternal night. "That was all him. Never seen the man truly angry before, but when the Night nearly killed him?" A shudder ran through his massive frame. "He decided to paint the sky with fire just to send a message. Makes you grateful he's usually so laid back, eh?"
Mance felt a headache building. He knew the mage was dangerous, but he hadn't expected anything like this.
"Tell me everything," he commanded, leading them toward his tent.
As they walked, he couldn't help but notice how his warriors kept glancing back at the hole where the worm had vanished, as if expecting it to return. He didn't blame them. Some things, once seen, couldn't be unseen.
And somehow, he had a feeling this was just the beginning of the strange tales he'd be hearing tonight.
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Aemon woke with a start, sweat beading on his forehead despite the bitter cold.
Something had woken him from his sleep - not a sound or a touch, but a feeling.
A presence that made his blood sing with awe and fear.
Something had stirred in the world - something old yet new, something significant.
Making his way aimlessly around the castle, he was surprised to find Commander Mormont wandering as well, looking equally troubled. Even after weeks of having his sight restored by the healer's magic, the ability to see the world again and read people's faces was not something he had appreciated until he went blind.
"Trouble sleeping, Maester?" Mormont asked, his gruff voice carrying a hint of unease.
"I could ask you the same, Lord Commander," Aemon replied, studying the older man's face.
"Although I suspect we were both awakened by the same disturbance."
"Aye." Mormont worked his jaw, clearly wrestling with words to describe the indescribable. "Found myself walking these halls without any destination in mind. Started wondering if all these years had finally cracked my wits."
"If we're both wandering without purpose," Aemon said thoughtfully, "perhaps we could wander upward. It's been..." He paused, memories flickering behind his eyes. "Gods, nearly forty years since I last saw that view with my own eyes. "
He smiled, remembering that younger version of himself who had stood atop the world and watched the stars dance across the endless northern sky. "The mage was quite insistent that I should see it again with these restored eyes of mine. Said some views deserve a second chance at making a first impression."
Mormont's weathered face cracked into a slight smile. "You know, in all my years as Lord Commander, I don't think I've ever tired of that sight. Especially on nights like this, when the stars seem close enough to pluck from the sky."
They made their way up in silence. The ancient elevator creaked and groaned but still smoothly carried them to their destination.
When they finally reached the top, Aemon's breath caught in his throat. The view was magnificent, with stars scattered across the dark canvas of night like diamond dust.
"The mage was right," he murmured. "I would have regretted not seeing this again."
They stood there in silence for a long time with only the sound of the wind blowing by.
"Seems we made it just in time for dawn," Mormont observed, gesturing at a growing light on the horizon.
Aemon frowned. "It's too early for dawn."
The light grew brighter, impossibly bright, turning night into an unnatural day. For a moment, Aemon thought his newly restored eyes were playing tricks on him. Then came the sound - a roar like a thousand dragons awakening at once.
"What..," was all he could manage as the horizon erupted in fire and fury.
They watched in stunned silence as a massive cloud rose into the sky, its shape unlike anything he had ever seen before.
Moments later, he saw a wave of air hit the traveling so fast that his eyes could barely keep up as it struck the wall and dissipated.
The ancient stronghold remained unmoving.
"What by all the gods was that?" Mormont breathed, his usual stoic demeanor cracked by awe.
Aemon's mind raced through all of his accumulated knowledge, finding nothing to explain what they had just witnessed. "I don’t know," he admitted.
The glowing cloud continued to rise, painting the world in shades of crimson and gold.
