As consciousness returned to him, Qhorin stirred, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dimly lit cave filled with gnarled, dry roots. Puzzlement etched across his face as he observed the peculiar assembly of the Children of the Forest, Benjen, and Edd.
"Well, it appears the lad managed to rescue me after all," he remarked, drawing the attention of the two rangers. A half-smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And here I was thinking I'd finally be done with all this mess and get some proper rest."
Benjen retained his reassuring smile, though his words carried a certain weight. "Your watch isn't quite over yet, brother."
Qhorin let out a resigned sigh. "For the time being, then," he conceded, his voice trailing off. "I suppose there's still more left in me to give." Curiosity got the better of him as he inquired about Gale's whereabouts. "So, where's the lad, then?"
Edd pointed a finger behind Qhorin, drawing his attention to Gale. With his eyes closed, the young man sat on the ground before a peculiar, skeletal man ensnared in a tangle of dried roots.
Qhorin couldn't help but rub his temple in bemusement. "There's surely a perfectly logical explanation for all this," he muttered, turning his gaze back to Edd. "Let's hear it."
Edd scratched his head, a gesture that was emblematic of the bewildering tale he was about to share. He started with a note of hesitation, his words laden with the weight of the extraordinary events they had witnessed.
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it logical, but there is an explanation, a rather peculiar one," he began, his voice hesitant yet determined. "It's a story that unfolds like this..."
And with that, Edd proceeded to recount the entire narrative that had unfolded before them. He spoke of Gale's mysterious condition, the dark origin of the Night King, and the revelations bestowed upon them by the Three-Eyed Raven – a narrative filled with bizarre truths.
Qhorin listened intently, a wistful smile spreading across his face as the story neared its end. "In the end, he was no legendary hero or some prophesized savio- just a lad caught in the wrong place and time."
He cast a strange look at Gale. "Then again, I can name a few nanny tales that started just like this..."
Benjen, however, brought them back to the grim reality they faced. "It doesn't matters if he was born of prophecy or mere accident," he asserted with a determined shake of his head. "What matters now is that the Night King is bound to march south, and Gale might be our only chance to stop him."
Qhorin nodded in agreement. "Indeed," he said with a thoughtful expression. "But could anyone explain what the hell he's doing right now?" he inquired, directing his gaze back to Gale.
Edd, still perplexed by the sight, shook his head. "Honestly, I haven't the faintest idea," he admitted.
It was then that Leaf, who had quietly been observing the conversation, decided to offer her insight. "Allow me to explain..."
...
In Gale's mental realm, he found himself standing on an expansive, verdant plane, the landscape dotted with imposing castles and winding rivers stretching to the horizon.
Before him, the figure of a man emerged, and Gale immediately recognized him as the Three-Eyed Raven. However, this was not the aged, skeletal form he had seen earlier.
Instead, the Raven had transformed into a man in the prime of his life, garbed in sleek black armor and a fur-lined cloak. He bore a longsword sheathed at his side and held a hunting bow in his hand. His obsidian-black hair flowed down to his shoulders, and a distinctive red birthmark resembling a crow adorned his cheek.
Gale regarded the transformed Raven with a sense of curiosity and acceptance. "So... how do we go about this?" he inquired, unperturbed by the Raven's changed appearance.
The man who was once the Three-Eyed Raven responded, "There is but one method by which I can impart knowledge that I myself lack. I will show you visions of someone who possesses it – the Night King himself."
Gale furrowed his brow at this proposition, bearing in mind the dangers of such a connection. He remembered how a shared vision had allowed the Night King to locate the Three-Eyed Raven's cave in the show.
"Is this even safe?" Gale questioned, his expression marked by concern. "In the first place, isn't the act of sharing visions exclusive to greenseers? How is this even possible?" He swept his gaze around, his puzzlement evident.
"You are no greenseer. It's true," The Raven acknowledged with a solemn nod. "However, your very essence was transformed by the magic of the Children of the Forest—a magic bestowed upon them by the old gods as they bestowed the green sight upon me."
His words hung in the air, carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "This magic still courses through your being, intertwining with your existence, much like the green sight is a part of me... Through this connection, I can share my visions with you."
Gale contemplated this revelation, his brow furrowed. "You've yet to address the matter of safety," he remarked with a tinge of concern. "I'd rather not attract the Night King's attention."
The Raven's response was firm and unwavering. "Have no fear. It is entirely safe," he assured. "While a less adept greenseer meddling in the Night King's past might alert him, my sight is as far-reaching as it is subtle."
Gale's sigh echoed in the dimly lit cave, an audible testament to his lingering doubts. The prospect of delving into the realm of mind magic left him wary and unconvinced, unwilling to rush into the unknown.
"Let's say we go through with this," Gale began, his expression clouded by skepticism. "You show me visions of the Night King, and somehow he doesn't catch wind of it and turn up at your doorstep..." He paused, his frown deepening. "How long will it take for me to master these abilities?" he inquired, his concern palpable.
The Raven met Gale's question with unwavering certainty. "Two to three years, at most," he stated.
Gale's objection was swift and fervent. "Two to three years? I can't stay here for that long! By then, it might—" He began, only to be cut off as the Raven interjected.
"It will be too late to rally the undivided support of the Seven Kingdoms, I understand," the Raven responded with a knowing smile. "Rest assured, you won't need three years. A day, at most, to witness all that I can reveal..." The Raven elucidated.
"The rest will be on you—contemplating and assimilating the knowledge you've gained."
Gale's skepticism lingered as he scrutinized the Raven's cryptic demeanor. The Raven's words had hinted at knowledge that Gale found unnerving. The revelation of his two former names and the insinuation that he planned to rally the forces of Westeros before King Robert's demise, which Gale did, had stirred unease within him.
"Are you sure you're not all-knowing?" Gale questioned with a grimace, his mistrust evident in his tone. The Raven, however, offered nothing more than a mysterious smile, leaving Gale even more unsettled.
The prospect of dealing with someone who seemed to possess boundless knowledge was far from comforting, and Gale struggled to mask his discomfort despite expecting the Raven's know-it-all attitude.
With a clenched jaw, Gale decided to proceed. "You know what? I don't even care," he stated, exasperation in his voice. "Let's just get this over with..." He gestured impatiently, indicating that he was ready to commence the process.
...
In the heart of the Haunted Forest, the wildling woman found herself with her back pressed against a towering cliff, a band of Craster's wives huddled closely behind her. From all directions, a relentless onslaught of wights charged toward them, their lifeless eyes fixed on their prey.
"That's why I told you to run!" the wildling woman growled, her voice laced with frustration. She brandished two wicked-looking axes, her knuckles white around the grips. "Now we'll all die here like dogs, and no one will bring news about the horn to Rayder!" She kept her gaze locked on the stampeding undead.
"Go where exactly?" Morag retorted bitterly, raising a torch to illuminate their grim surroundings. "We wouldn't have made it far anyway." Behind Morag, the other women armed themselves with whatever makeshift weapons they could find: small knives, clubs, torches, anything that might help them survive the impending onslaught.
The wildling woman was about to argue further, but the encroaching horde of wights silenced her. "Might as well go down kicking and screaming!" she declared with determination.
With a fierce battle cry, she charged the oncoming wights, fully prepared to meet them head-on.
However, as she closed half the distance, a sudden rain of fire-tipped arrows descended upon the approaching undead horde, igniting the night with a fiery glow.
Gale's eyes opened to a disconcerting sight in the depths of his mental realm. He no longer inhabited his own form. Instead, he had become an ancient embodiment of winter itself, transformed into a White Walker like no other.
Icy splinters crowned his head, and he rode atop an undead steed. Behind him stretched a formidable legion of the undead, with countless White Walkers leading the charge.
On the opposing side, a massive army of men stood in formation, clad in black armor and donning black furs. Alongside them, giants, Children of the Forest, and a myriad of other creatures had united for a singular purpose: to vanquish the Night King and his forces.
Without hesitation, the Night King signaled the beginning of the battle. He raised his formidable iceblade and swung it downward in the direction of the human army. In response, the wights let out eerie shrieks and surged forward, closely following their White Walker commanders.
The human army's leader issued rapid commands, prompting archers at the rear to unleash a volley of fiery arrows upon the approaching undead horde. Meanwhile, the Children of the Forest conjured their fiery magic, and the giants heaved massive rocks toward the wights.
The Night King merely sneered in response. He raised his hand, summoning a chilling wind that rendered most of the fiery projectiles ineffective. Soon, the charging wights and White Walkers crashed headlong into the shielded ranks of the humans like violent waves crashing upon a sandy shore.
The shield walls of the human army appeared to withstand the initial onslaught of the wights. Soldiers anchored their feet firmly to the ground, a testament to their unwavering discipline.
However, as the White Walkers, imbued with superhuman strength, entered the fray, the once-unyielding shield lines began to waver due to their supernatural might.
The human army's leader barked orders with urgency, and soon, the giants joined the fray, their massive presence further escalating the chaos. Fiery projectiles continued to streak through the air, launched by the Children of the Forest and the archers in the back line, but the Night King seemed uninterested in defending his forces.
His attention had shifted, his chilling gaze locked onto the leader of the human army.
With an air of indifference, the Night King directed his undead steed forward. He moved at a leisurely pace, allowing the steed to carry him gracefully across the battlefield. In the process, he calmly dispatched anyone who dared to challenge him, raising the fallen as new members of his ever-growing army.
Eventually, the Night King reached his intended target, locking eyes with the human commander. The commander met the Night King's gaze without flinching, though he opted not to engage in a direct confrontation. Instead, a towering figure from within the human ranks stepped up to the challenge.
This formidable man raised his massive sword into the air and chanted incantations that caused his blade to burst into flames. Without hesitation, he charged headlong at the Night King, ready for a battle that would decide the course of the conflict.
The brave warrior charged toward the Night King, his fiery sword held high. Many wights tried to block his path, but with a single swing of his blazing blade, he cleaved through them effortlessly. Even a White Walker, who dared to stand in his way, was promptly reduced to countless icy shards as the warrior pressed forward, unwavering.
The Night King, however, observed the warrior's approach with an air of disinterest. With calculated lethargy, he dismounted his undead steed, his chilling gaze fixed on his oncoming adversary. As the two warriors finally met, the Night King raised his formidable iceblade and swung it down with deliberate precision.
The fiery sword, upon impact with the iceblade, shattered into a thousand sparks. Horror and determination etched onto his face, the warrior discarded the now-useless blade and decided to rely on his fists. With a fierce determination, he extended his right fist toward the Night King's face.
The Night King, in a display of his supernatural strength, calmly raised his hand and intercepted the warrior's punch, forcing him to his knees. A steely gaze met the warrior's eyes as the Night King swiftly drew a jagged blade and sliced the man's throat. The warrior crumpled to the ground, his life extinguished.
The human commander, witnessing the valiant warrior's fall, clenched his teeth in silent anguish. He had no time to mourn as the fallen warrior soon rose again, reborn as a servant of the Night King. Swiftly, he barked orders to his remaining forces, signaling a retreat. The wights and White Walkers, having finally broken through their shield lines, pressed on relentlessly.
As the soldiers initiated their gradual retreat, the Children of the Forest intensified their magical onslaught. Fiery projectiles created a blazing wall of defense, temporarily halting the relentless advance of the undead hordes.
Yet, this magical onslaught came at a cost. Vulnerable to retaliation, the Children of the Forest had to be swiftly carried to safety by soldiers and giants as the retreat continued.
While the surviving forces put some distance between themselves and the fiery barricade, the human commander turned back, casting one last sorrowful glance at the fallen warriors on both sides of the magical conflagration.
To his astonishment, the Night King moved deliberately through the flames, seemingly unfazed by the searing heat, and fixed his cold gaze upon the retreating commander.
With a smirk that carried a mockery of human struggle, the Night King raised his arms in a dramatic gesture. The fallen human and giant corpses, their lifeless eyes now aglow with an eerie blue radiance, began to stir.
...
Gasping for breath as he returned to the mental realm, a place adorned with fantastical castles and winding rivers, Gale cast a wry and bemused look at the Three-Eyed Raven.
The Raven, however, merely smiled, his all-knowing eyes fixed upon Gale. "Well? What did you learn?" the Raven inquired, anticipation lacing his voice.
Gale let out a sigh, his expression still marked by traces of wonder and trepidation. "I learned that the Night King was as terrifying as he was full of himself... the guy had a dramatic flare, that's for sure," he remarked, punctuating his observation with a bitter chuckle.
A frown creased the Raven's brow. "This is no time for jokes..." he responded, disapproval evident in his tone. "Even trifling knowledge such as this can be used against the Night King," he added with a knowing look, a glimpse into the tapestry of time that only he could fathom.
Gale rolled his eyes, though beneath his nonchalant exterior, he recognized the wisdom in the Raven's words. "Spare me the riddles. I'm sure you've seen it in one of your visions," he quipped.
"Still... I might be able to learn something useful from this, after all..." he concluded, mentally preparing himself to delve into another vision.
...
In the midst of the chaotic battle in the Haunted Forest, the wildling woman watched with a mix of confusion and desperation as a rain of fiery arrows descended from the skies, consuming the undead that had been charging relentlessly toward her and Craster's former wives.
As the last of the flaming projectiles hit the snowy ground, a massive man with a shock of red hair, a thick beard, and piercing blue eyes revealed himself, and her confusion swiftly transformed into relief.
"Tormund Giantsbane. I never thought I'd ever be happy to see your ugly mug," she remarked with a smirk, her axes finding their way back to her sides as she surveyed the newfound allies emerging from behind the gnarled trees.
"Threya Snowrider. Boarish as ever, and still got all your bits attached, I see," the man, Tormund, greeted her with his characteristic grin. "Some of the lads and lasses assumed the worst when we found what little there was to find of your companions." He added.
"She'll outlive us all, I said- looks like I was right," he concluded, shaking his head in exasperation.
Threya let out a weary sigh, her breath forming a frosty mist in the cold air. "I can't die just yet. I have news for Rayder, and it's not the pleasant kind," she explained, her eyes scanning the surroundings as if searching for answers. "The cache was in the right place, but it was empty. Someone must have reaced it before me... a crow most likely," she added with a note of frustration.
Tormund scratched his bushy beard, a thoughtful expression on his face. "A crow, eh?" he mused. "There's been a lot of those lurking about lately... any suspects in particular?" He arched an eyebrow, waiting for Thrya's response.
Shaking her head, Thrya replied, "No. But I a place to start..." Her voice trailed off as an image of Gale's face flashed in her mind, and a determined look settled in her eyes.
Qhorin's concern for Gale's prolonged meditation was evident on his furrowed brow. He glanced over at Leaf, who had been patiently watching over the scene, and inquired, "He's been like this for two days... How long will this take?"
Leaf took a moment to assess the situation. She briefly examined Gale's still form and then turned her attention to the Three-Eyed Raven before finally responding, "Anytime now."
Savoring a bowl of freshly harvested fruits, Edd didn't share the same urgency. With a mouthful of succulent produce, he asked with a hint of amusement, "What's the hurry? We've been on the road for over a week with barely any rest. Let the lad take his time."
Clearly, Edd relished the chance to enjoy the rare delight of fresh fruits the Children of the Forest had offered them, having endured a diet of Castle Black's stale rations and unappetizing dried foods on their journey.
Benjen, on the other hand, maintained a more serious demeanor. He sighed and stated, "There is no time to waste. We need to find out what the wildlings are planning. And we need to report back to the Lord Commander regarding the white walkers." The urgency of their mission weighed heavily on his mind.
Just as the conversation was beginning to take shape, Gale's body suddenly twitched, causing him to topple backward. Opening his eyes, he gazed around, slightly disoriented.
Edd couldn't help but offer a sardonic comment under his breath, saying, "Just when this cave was starting to feel like home..."
Gale turned his head to Edd, offering a bemused expression. "Well, I'm sorry for bursting your bubble," he grumbled, his own discomfort evident. "I'm exhausted. I need something to eat and drink," he continued, the mental visions clearly taking a toll on him.
The Three-Eyed Raven himself seemed equally drained as his form slowly receded into the dry roots, vanishing into the depths of the cave. Leaf was quick to respond to Gale's needs, fetching a bowl of fresh fruits and a drinking horn before offering them to him.
Qhorin and Benjen approached the young man, ready for answers.
Qhorin got right to the point, asking, "So... what did you see exactly?" He watched as Gale eagerly grabbed handfuls of fruit, shoving them into his mouth.
Still munching through his meal, Gale replied with a hint of grim resignation, "That we're fucked in every imaginable way." He paused briefly to take a hearty gulp of water from the drinking horn, his exhaustion showing.
Edd, having settled down with his own bowl of fruit, gave Gale a bemused look, clearly entertained by his downcast demeanor. "Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine," he quipped, but his teasing was short-lived as he witnessed Gale swiping Edd's bowl and greedily gobbling down its contents.
"Hey! That's mine, you greedy bastard!" Edd's protest was met with indifference as Gale continued his voracious meal.
Benjen, on the other hand, rubbed his forehead in exasperation and leaned forward, urging Gale to clarify his dire statement. "What do you mean exactly when you say we're fucked?" he inquired, his expression conveying a sense of urgency.
Gale paused in his eating, locking eyes with Benjen. "I mean exactly that. The Night King is almost god-like, and if we give him a chance, he'll amass an army larger than the eye can see," he explained.
There was a moment of contemplative silence as he grimaced. "And frankly, he might already have one." He shook his head and promptly resumed eating.
"And that's not even all, is it...?" Qhorin interjected with a grimace, prompting Gale's attention. "If Rayder manages to rally all the free folk tribes, we'll have another massive army to contend with," he added, voicing the deeper concerns that had been brewing.
Gale regarded Qhorin with a steady gaze. "You're right," he admitted. "The way I see it, we and the wildlings share a common enemy—the Night King." He spoke with a calm certainty. "The only reason they want to cross the Wall is to escape the Night King's wrath," he explained.
Edd furrowed his brow in contemplation. "You're suggesting what I think you're suggesting... are you?" he said with a mixture of reluctance and apprehension. "It can't be done. There's too much bad blood between us and the wildlings," he argued, shaking his head.
Gale maintained his resolve, unfazed by the obstacles. "I think you're underestimating the severity of the situation. The wildlings know how terrifying the Night King is more than anyone," he countered. "As long as we can convince our people, the wildlings will be more than happy to work with us." His voice was resolute.
"At the end of the day, we can either destroy each other and create more corpses for the Night King's army, or we can work together and try to survive somehow." He concluded, emphasizing the necessity of their cooperation.
"No. The lad is right," Qhorin finally spoke, his tone thoughtful. "As rangers of the Night's Watch, it is our duty to protect Westeros from all threats beyond the Wall."
Benjen Stark, who had witnessed the perilous threats beyond the Wall, nodded in agreement. "Right now, the only threat that matters is that of the Night King and the undead," he added. "We need to find common ground with the wildlings or risk fighting two wars, both of which we stand to lose."
Edd, having lost many friends to the wildlings beyond the Wall, couldn't contain his disbelief. "You must have lost your minds... do you even realize how many of our brothers those savages have killed?"
Benjen shook his head, his expression resolute. "And how many of their people have we killed? How many of us and them will the wights kill? We can't be picky, not anymore."
Before the argument could escalate further, Gale intervened, his voice calm and level-headed. "In any case, it's not our call to make. We need to figure out the wildlings' base of operations, their numbers, and bring our findings to the Lord Commander," he suggested. "He'll have the final say in the matter."
The rangers, although divided in their opinions, recognized the wisdom in Gale's words. The fate of the Night's Watch and the potential alliance with the wildlings rested in the hands of their Lord Commander, and it was imperative to gather information and await his decision.
...
Castle Black was gripped by chaos as a recently deceased ranger, his eyes aglow with an eerie blue light, rose from the dead and began to attack those around him.
The commotion drew the attention of Ser Alliser Thorne, a stern and no-nonsense ranger, who quickly dispatched the undead creature and rallied a group of like-minded brothers to seek answers.
With resolve in his voice, Ser Thorne and his fellow rangers stormed into the Lord Commander's office, their faces etched with determination. Thorne wasted no time in addressing the leader of the Night's Watch.
"You've kept us in the dark for too long, Lord Commander," he said, his frustration palpable. "First, it was the sudden rapid recruitments and the patrols beyond the Wall... now one of our lads came back to life with blue eyes." His words were charged with a sense of urgency. "Please explain what's happening here!"
Lord Commander Mormont, seated at his desk, regarded Ser Thorne with a bemused expression, his piercing gaze cutting through the tension in the room. "Why don't you start by explaining what you think you're doing, barging into my office with a group of armed rangers?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone cold and calculated.
"A mutiny perhaps?" The accusation hung in the air, causing Thorne's eyes to widen.
"I would never... but we need an explanation, Lord Commander," Ser Thorne quickly clarified, his voice steady. "We are all sworn brothers of the Watch. You cannot keep us in the dark." His plea was met with an expectation of answers.
The Lord Commander, burdened by the escalating concerns and the urgency of the situation, finally relented. With a heavy sigh, he acknowledged that he could no longer keep the grim events beyond the Wall concealed.
"Very well, if you must know, Ser Thorne," he began, the weight of responsibility etched in his expression. "Winter is coming, and we are ill-prepared to face it."
The words hung heavily in the room, and the gravity of the impending crisis settled over those present.
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