Chapter Four – Unknown Darkness
Five weeks prior…
Jon visited a hut containing assorted dried meats seasoned in bearberry and diamond leaf. He needed to pick up some rations only to discover their stores were low. The wildling occupying the hut was in the process of drying some recently trapped rabbit and mongoose. "I see our wares are a bit thin." Jon stated.
Rogor turned to find Jon standing inside, inspecting the hanging provisions. "Yeah, no one has been able to spot much, just scavenging what they can here and there. Game has been scare since the white walkers rolled through."
Jon changed his sights to Rogor who was hanging the last slice, "I can take Ghost out for a quick hunt while the others set up camp. Possibly help replenish your stock and alleviate some stress from the clans elders."
"Aaahh." Rogor bobbed his head as he walked around the drying racks. "You have done enough already, none of us would have survived without you." His statement was genuine.
"It is no trouble really, this camp can not spare many men for a hunting trip with so many women and children. And the nights are not getting any warmer." Jon mentioned.
Rogor sighed, feeling like he was taking advantage of the poor lad. "The folks would be mighty grateful, Jon Snow. Thank you."
Jon nodded and replied, "I will be back in a couple days with a bundle of venison in tow." He exited the hut in search of Tormund who had been accompanying him to the different wildling camps, seeing if they were settling in fine. He locates Tormunds tent on the outskirts of the encampment, pulling back the draped leather as he steps in. He freezes in place at the ruffled movement and womens laughter originating from the hides below. Tormunds head pops up from the bearskin, noticing Jon at the entrance who promptly spun away.
"Crow!" Spasmodically rearranging the furs. "Do you mind? Can you not see I am a bit busy?" Tormunds voice laced with irritation. A blonde female sprang from the skins to eagerly wave at Jon.
Jon graced her with a soft smile but avoided complete eye contact. "I am heading out on a hunting trip, was going to see if you wanted to join." Jon raised his eyebrow, trying to make the most out of the awkward situation.
"I would if I was not preoccupied at the moment." Tormund replied frankly. The women had started to run her fingers through his beard as he spoke to Jon.
Jon gave Tormund a palm wide wave, "I will leave you to it." Vacating the tent.
Tormund shook his head, turning back to the lass. "That man needs to bed a women." Sighing as he reverts back to his previous task.
Jon strolls over to his own dwelling which is only a few strides away. He collects a couple of bags, filling one with three days worth of rations and another with extra necessities such as a second knife, string for his bow, and flint for the fire. Two of his thickest pelts were rolled and tied together before carrying everything out to his horse. Jon was too busy loading his gear to be aware of a couple wildling girls wandering up to him, snickering amongst each other.
"Hello Jon Snow." One cooed. Obsidian hair gingerly framed her face, descending in elegant curls. Rustic features giving her a warm and charming appearance.
Jon snaps his head back and offers them a friendly grin. "Hello ladies. Fine day we are having." He continues to strap his bags to the saddle.
The other, a taller brunette with unbridled zest chimes in, "We heard it is suppose to be terribly cold tonight and we thought with some added body heat we might not freeze to death." They smirked at each other, exchanging giggles at the very thought.
Jon pivoted to face them, "I am sorry girls but I am going out on a hunting trip and will not be back for a couple days." He points to Tormunds tent. "But I am sure Tormund would be more than welcome to assist in the vital body heat you require for tonight." He gives them a curt nod before mounting his horse, taking off into the nearby wooded are. The high-pitched sound of whistling signals Ghost to follow.
Brown sparrows softly chirped, supplementing the overall calmness of the extensive forest. Bristled shrubs and towering trees comprise the substantial thicket which is capitalized by various critters. Jon maneuvered his horse among the standing and fallen timber of the forest, scouting for a proper spot to make camp when something ran by. When something passed by too quickly for Jon to recognize it as anything more than a white blur. Ghost began snarling, lips curled above his teeth with the horse nervously pacing in place. He chose to dismount and track whatever lead to such level of disturbance in his animals. Unsheathing his sword, he stooped down and creeped through the trees and brush. Cautiously circling a boulder to reveal a white walker, halting him in his tracks. Ghost was circling back behind the white far off in the distance while Jon positioned himself beside the rock. He watched as the white walker used the tip of its finger to draw a spiraling symbol on the bark of a tree. Jon moves his foot to get a better view when a pop emanates from his boot, giving away his location. An accidental crack startles the white walker causing it to jolt and slam its hand into the tree, shrouding it in ice. Its head extends back as the ice crawls up the tree.
Jon charges from behind the boulder with his sword drawn. Within striking distance, he swings his blade downward onto the white walker who side steps, missing the fatal blow. The white walker in response cranks its hand, swatting Jon and causing him to be ejected several feet away. Jons back rams into the body of a tree, shaking loose any snow perched on the branches farther up. He lands stomach first in the snow with a thud, flakes sprinkling on top of him. Ghost vaults from behind, latching onto the white walkers shoulder. Landing in front of the walker, Ghost continued to hold onto its shoulder. Ripping and tearing, he tries to yank the white walker to the ground. The white walker grabs the scruff on Ghosts neck, throwing him to the side. Jon and the white walker stare at each other before it takes off sprinting north. Jon struggles to get up as the walls of his chest ached, fumbling for Long Claw in the snow.
Even with the white walker clearly injured from the altercation, it was still able to broaden the distance between Jon and it. The white slumps against a tree, placing a single hand on the surface. Dragging the hand around the sides as he moves past, leaving an iced hand print across the tree which indicates the bearing it was going. Jon was able to regain sights on the white walker some meters away from him soon after. They both stumbled and dredged through the deep snow. Jon had to swing his upper body from side to side, propelling himself through the waist high snow. The magnitude of resistance dramatically dropped to nothing, suddenly jerking Jon onto hardened ground. A couple feet of snow had unexpectedly come to an abrupt end at the tree line. He grunts as his body lands uncontrollably. Immediately pushing himself up from the ground, twirling about in attempt to relocate the white walker. Ghost reappears at Jons side, sniffing the nearby ground in search of a scent to pick up. Jon finally spots a figure walking even further north into an almost solid wall of blowing snow. He swallows, quenching any second thought before it could manifest then follows the white walker.
Jon is forced to lean toward the ground due to the strength of the wind. Repeatedly alternating from one foot to another, driving them forth. An arm was held in front of his face but was insufficient as his head still had to be tilted away. Long Claw was held at his side, anticipating an incoming encounter. The flying snow made it impossible to look up and all he could do was blindly march onward with Ghost tailgating close behind.
The blinding blizzard and unyielding snow fall unexpectedly came to a stop, allowing Jon to slowly raise his head to analyze what was ahead of him. Gradually standing upright, Jons breathing increased as his eyes followed a structure up into the sky. He stared at the highest peak of a lone tower that was connected to the fortress, until the slightest movement dropped his gaze. Jon observed the white walker step into the entrance of the fortress, high a top a large flight of stairs. He closed his mouth to expel a substantial breath out through his nostrils, bringing Long Claw up to hold with both hands.
"Lets go boy." He says to Ghost as they stalk the white walker into the unknown structure.
Once inside, Jon reduced his speed to a crawling pace. His knees were bent, hunched at the hips as he tried to make his footsteps as silent as possible. Jon methodically swung his upper body about, scanning every room and corridor they went through. They wandered through the fortress meaninglessly, checking for any trace. Jon was able to keep his breathing under control, but his heart was racing, pounding against his bruised chest.
His current corridor passed by a room that jutted out perpendicularly and was no more than ten meters wide with the far wall a good fifty paces back. Jon was focusing intently, his eyes in the forward orientation. He was roughly halfway past the chamber when his peripherals caught a glimpse of something. He paused for a second to glance across the room. Squinting his eyes, he identified what appeared to be a dancing light at the end of the elongated room. Curiosity allured Jon as he progressed in the direction the unknown object. Upon further inspection, Jon could see there was a glass box stationed on top of a pedestal. The surrounding edges were murky with the sides more translucent towards the center allowing for its contents to be viewed. He bent down, bringing his face closer. It emitted a glowing blue light that highlighted Jons face. A crashing bang resounded from behind him, spooking Jon and causing him to jump into the pedestal. It rocked and tipped, ultimately dropping to the ground. Jon paid no mind to the shattering glass, his attention was directed elsewhere.
Once the box burst, the glowing blue light dispersed into a haze on the ground and was stationary for sometime before an essence disturbed it. The unknown haze twitched, drawn to the life source close by. It slithered, floating just above the ground as it headed for Jon. Jons eyes darted back and forth from one entrance to another, waiting for something to spring from the doorways. He was too preoccupied to notice the blue light starting to coil around his leg, traveling up to his waist and encompassing his abdomen. Jons face distorted as pain pricked at his leg, shadowing the movement of the light. It was not until a sharp, ice cold feeling hit his chest, gasping and dropping to his hands and knees. One hand catching his fall while the other wrapped across his torso as the cold rapidly spread. Long Claw flew from his hands, sliding away on the iced ground. He could only describe the pain as a thousand stabbing knives with a sense numbing intensity and tightening sensation which was now radiating throughout. He grunted as the potency heightened with every breath he took. Jon could discern his body being chilled with his breath crystallized in front of him. His neck quivered as he strained trying to raise his head to seek out Ghost. The room started to sway and his eyesight dwindled before darkness washed over him and the rest of his body collapsed to the ground.
Infinite darkness spanned his surroundings, unable to differentiate the ground from sky. His breathing echoed in the uncharted space, ringing in his ears. His vision was hazy and mind in a fog, like he was a dream like state. Suddenly something clamped onto his hips, viciously ripping him down into nothing. His free fall escalated in velocity with every second. Immense pressure came rushing in, flooding the essence of his being. He struggled to keep his head afloat as a nameless entity invaded his subconscious. It shifted through his memories, blurring his thoughts. Jon was at risk of losing himself to this ravenous resident. He could only describe it as a dark, cold thing filled with loathing and vengeance. It was relentless and he felt like he was drowning. No matter how much he fought back, shadows continued to pour in.
Jons eyes shot open, drawing in a big breath like he had been oxygen deprived for sometime. He awoke to laying on the ground, unmoved from what he could last recall. His body was frigid, cool to the touch and ached everywhere while his limbs were hardened and slow to move. He clenched his jaw as he muscled himself to stand. Jon staggered, unsteady on his feet. Long Claw was on the ground not far from him. He stumbled as the extensive tingling made it difficult to walk. Groaning as he slowly bent down to pick it up.
He thought it was odd how light Long Claw seemed compared to how his body felt. Jon started to warily saunter to one of the exits when the pain rebounds, zapping every nerve. He cried out in agony, spilling to his knees. Mumbled whispers erupted from every direction. Jon jerked his head every which way, swiveling on the ground to locate their origin. The whispers faded after several seconds along with the residing twinge. He rose again, better able to maintain his balance as he left the room.
The soft sound of hardened leather scrapped the floor, making Jon abruptly twist to see a white walker materialize from behind one of the pillars. It walked sheepishly out into the open, gawking at Jon. Its eyes were wide and mouth gaping. Jon noticed several puncture holes scattered on its shoulder from where Ghost bit down. Something seemed to take control as darkness clouded his vision, manipulating his actions. Jons soul was dragged into the background. Without even thinking his hand lifted in front of him, fingers curled in the air. The white walker froze in place, a look of admiration instantaneously shifted to terror. Jons nostrils flared as wrath filling his eyes. He deliberately closed his grip causing the white walkers arms to snap to its side, head thrown back as it shrilled. Subsequently, it burst into minuscule pieces as Jon formed a tight fist with his raised hand. The vengefulness faded as he seemed to be brought back to reality and he was left gaping at his hand. Like a flash, Jon restored back to the present. He opened his fist, twirling his hand while ogling either side then back to where the white walker once stood. It was like he was watching the event unfold through a window. Aware of what was happening but unable to do anything. Fear twisted his stomach, as he scanned the rest of the room. The ruthless onslaught of pain returns except more extreme this time. He smashed his eyes shut, wincing as he screamed through his teeth. He crashed to the floor as hundreds of whispering voices consume his ears before losing consciousness.
...
Thousands of years ago at the time of the first of men, children of the forest created the Night King to aid them in the ongoing war. Such powerful magic made him difficult to control as he did not discriminate between life forms. He had been residing in the northern reaches of the world, waiting for the opportune moment. In the recent hundred years, the Night King learned how to materialize the sorcery within him and stored it within a glass capsule strong enough to contain it. This remained hidden from the three eyed raven and the living until now.
...
Jon stirred, aroused from his previous state but this time his body was absent of any hurt. He sits up at the slightest click to his left and turns his head. Ghost advances from the dark, low to the ground with a deep rumble in his throat. Jon adjusts to a kneeling position, his movements fluent. Extending his hand out, he faintly whistles to Ghost. The usual glee experienced by Ghosts presence was gone. All he felt was emptiness, void of emotion, at the sight of his companion. His actions were shaped by an unknown force from within. Ghosts growling ceased and edged closer to Jon, staying low-set in his stature.
A low chuckle escaped Jons mouth while sliding a hand underneath Ghosts jaw. The stiffened vessel moved with such elegance as he handled Ghost while the other hand was casually placed on the direwolfs forehead. The whites of Jons eyes dissolved, darkening to black in color as Ghosts once burning red eyes iced over to the luminous bright blue. Jon dropped his hands with Ghost obediently sitting down. A corner of his mouth slightly curved up the side of his face.
Night time surfaced above, giving way to the bright stars and waving northern lights. A wildling camp was posted near the coastline just a couple miles south and consisted of approximately a dozen men and women with a few children. A pair of villagers chucked a spattering of twigs, feeding the fires as the rest of them returned to their makeshift lodging. A team of three had been elected to keep watch for the night, offering a since of peace to those sleeping. They stayed close to the bonfire as Jon stood on the outskirts of the camp watching, waiting. Only his glowing blue eyes could be conceived in the darkness. He masked his approach with a dense fog, blowing it through camp and diminishing the defenders sight to a mere foot. They stood alert with their spears at the ready as they peered into the haze. At the last second they heard the crunch of rapidly approaching footsteps coming from behind but it was too late. They each spun around separately to have a hand shoved into their faces. Ice lightly combs over living skin as brown and green eyes blink bright blue. Bodies convulse as the transformation continues and Jon moves on to the remaining wildlings asleep in the enclosures. He was silent, hushed under the calm of the night. The unsuspecting wildings were never forewarned to his advancement from tent to tent. He pushed past the flaps as he withdrew from the remaining quarters and was met by several pairs of glowing blue eyes. They stared at him while others emerged from their dwellings one by one.
A voice started to echo inside the chambers of his head, growing louder with every second. It called out, begging, pleading. 'That is enough! Stop! They do not deserve this! That is enough!' It peaked in strength before fading back into silence. He recognized this voice as his own, yelling at him from a seemingly far away distance. A sense of dread washed over him, causing his heart to cramp and breathing to escalate at the realization of his actions. But this human emotion was soon replaced by the previous emptiness, consumed by nothing.
…
Back at the fortress, Jon was sat on a chair situated in a vast room. One leg was extended forward and he was leaning into the back on the opposite side. His fingers were held at his mouth as his mind fought to establish dominance. A concoction of voices shouted and whispered in his head, clouding any possible thought. The voices battled amongst each other, scratching for position. Recognizable voices such as his own was blended into the mix along with several younger voices. They clawed and dug at his mind. Jon found it easier to just tune it all out and let the darkness devour the barrage. It was quiet, peaceful even with nothing weighing in on your decisions. A comforting feeling for Jon given his past decisions have landed him in quite unfavorable situations. Whatever it was it gripped him tight, directing his actions one way or another. As the days grew into weeks its hold on him only became tighter, restricting flares of emotion and recollection of past memories to surface. These memories were never discarded nor destroyed but used as a tool for a bigger purpose.
It became difficult to distinguish between the dark chaperon taking residence and the Jon Snow trapped inside. It was just easier to relinquish control then refuse and subjugate himself to punishing pain and torment. His situation changed the day she showed up on his doorstep.
He scrutinized from one of the turrets as the whites probed the neighboring areas in search of the Targaryen girl. He stood motionless with his hands held behind his back, contemplating the implication of their interaction. After weeks of dull whispers, the thundering voices came back as a result of his once repressed emotions. They screamed, overwhelming any and all senses. Seeing her again brought back feelings Jon Snow had for her. What would have made him act so impulsively? His state of mind radically changing from one to another, like the emotions gave way to the barrier between them.
His head was pounding as the darkness started to trickle in. It poked and pulled at his subconscious, like a constant aggravating tick that had not terminated since her arrival. It needed to stop, Jon needed it to stop. Death. Death was the only thing that could curb its insatiable hunger. Jon stormed from the fortress, heading for a known wildling village. A snow storm bellowed up from behind Jons strides as he closed the distance. The storm was dispatched ahead as the village came into view, shrouding it in disarray. Cries of horror escalated as wildlings panicked with the invasion of blowing snow and dwindled visibility. Countless scrambled in divergent paths into the bordering woods or numerous tupiks while others readied themselves by grabbing swords or spears. Jon was able to pick off those darting through the woods with ease then redirected his attention to the armed men.
Jon stalked his impending victim through the camouflaged snow, observing his stance and mobility. After some time he lunged but his own glowing eyes failed him. The wildling spotted emerging blue orbs as Jon came into the picture a couple feet away. He swung his mammoth bone dagger, hoping for a connection but Jon countered. His spine angles back, swiftly leaning away from the tossed blade. The wildling swung again but his attempt was stopped short by Jons hand. Still holding the mans arm Jon surged forth, striking the wildling in the head with his own. Knocking the wilding to the ground and evoking him drop his dagger. An additional wildling witnessed the attack unfold, deciding to assist. While Jons gaze had not left his first target, the second wildling swung his sword from behind. Jon bent over at the hips as the sword hovered over his head. With a quick twist on his feet, Jon stood bringing his hand up to the wildlings throat. A jerk of the wrist severed the wildlings neck. He reverted back to the wildling who was still on the ground, recovering from the blunt force trauma. His heartbeat ended mere seconds later.
Jon invaded nearby tupiks which was preceded by shrieking then muzzled quiet. He charged inside the remaining shelter to find a mother clutching her two children in the corner of the enclosure. He looked down at the children, only to have visions of past memories flash across face. Jon Snows memories. Of Jon giving Arya needle and Sansas hastened embrace at Castle Black. Warmth and happiness flooded his cold body, contorting his mental state. Flashbacks vanishing as promptly as they formulated. Jon peered back down at the children, a smaller brunette with pigtails and a rounded dirt covered face accompanied by an older red head with hair braided off to the side with elegant facial features. Tears streaming down their faces due to his presence. Jon could feel his chest swell as the voices picked up in volume. Gazing down at the children sitting at his feet, all he could see was Arya and Sansa. He rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh.