Dany rode Drogon across the vast snowfields, sweeping through them at will, burning from noon until complete darkness fell in the evening.
This time, night fell simply because it was evening.
Within a radius of twenty kilometers around Winterfell, the white snowfield, like a woolen blanket, was crisscrossed with blackened scorch marks left by fire.
She even chased the wights as far as the Wolfswood to the northwest.
At least a hundred thousand wights were reduced to charred bones beneath dragonfire.
Only after the sky had completely darkened did she leave the Wolfswood and return to the White Knife mountain range, ten kilometers southeast of Winterfell.
The White Knife River wound past Winterfell's gates, and along both sides of the river stretched mountain ranges for hundreds of kilometers, some of them rich with silver mines.
Before she opened a spatial gate and leapt into the dark vortex, Rhaegal and Viserion had already hidden themselves in the neighboring mountains.
Obviously, Winterfell was the center of the forbidden spell's attack. Dany could not allow them to remain there.
In fact, Dany's wyvern legion was also stationed in those mountains.
She had selected an eight-hundred-meter-high peak and built a crude "air force base" on a wind-sheltered platform halfway up the mountain. More than fifty tons of wildfire bombs were hidden there.
Winterfell itself was simply too small. With sides only three to five hundred meters long and twenty thousand people crammed inside, how could there possibly be space to "park" wyverns twenty or thirty meters in length?
As a million wights besieged the city, Dany had slaughtered countless enemies over the course of that day and night, harvesting an immeasurable amount of spiritual essence. She used only one-twentieth of it to restore Rhaegal and Viserion from complete exhaustion.
Using about another tenth of the essence, Dany and the fifty-eight ravens regained their vigor.
Eighty-five percent of the spiritual essence still remained.
Leaving Old Crab and the other wyvern riders at the mid-mountain air base, Dany brought the three dragons back beneath Winterfell.
Winterfell was encased within a conical pillar of ice two kilometers in diameter and two kilometers high.
The ice outside was crystal clear. Inside, the war-torn castle, the terrified figures, and the snow-covered trees were all vividly visible, forming a strange and eerie beauty.
When Dany descended, roughly three thousand soldiers had gathered in the ruins of Winter Town in front of the King's Gate.
Winter Town had merely had its wooden houses, beams, and roofs torn down. The main structures still remained.
Moreover, the Northerners were accustomed to building basements to survive the winter. Together with several multi-story stone buildings, there was still shelter available.
The three thousand soldiers were all defenders who had fled Winterfell southward after being warned by Drogon, leaving through the gates or climbing down ladders.
At least five thousand had left Winterfell. Now only three thousand remained, and most were wounded.
Sword cuts, bites from Others, frost that had penetrated their bodies and left them frozen through.
Beside piles of bonfires, wounded soldiers groaned in pain.
"Your Majesty, I've exhausted all my divine spell slots, yet there are still many wounded left. There's no medicine or bandages here either. Could you help treat them?"
The moment the dragons landed, a weary Hound approached her.
"Gather the wounded together. I'll heal them all at once," Dany said directly.
The Hound looked confused. "They're already gathered. You can just go over and treat them."
"Have them stand shoulder to shoulder in a line in front of me. Ser Barristan, take some men and help."
Though still puzzled, the Hound followed the White Knight away.
Jon approached next and discussed quietly, "Your Majesty, many people are still trapped in the crypts beneath Winterfell. Perhaps you could burn a hole with dragonfire and rescue them first?"
Dany did not refuse. "There's no need to evacuate Winterfell. We can hollow out the interior and endure the Long Night within this iceberg."
The iceberg had not only encased Winterfell but had also swallowed nearly half of Winter Town. From the mountain's base to Winterfell's main gate was about eight hundred meters.
Compared to the iceberg, Winterfell was about as small as the filling inside a meat bun sold on the street.
Even if they hollowed out the portion containing Winterfell, it would not affect the overall structure of the iceberg. Just as removing the filling does not change the bun's weight.
"Skree—" Viserion breathed dragonfire onto the clear, gleaming ice. Dany stood to one side, using her fire-control spell to regulate the range of the flames.
With hissing sounds, red fire collided with blue ice. A semicircular archway two meters high and two meters wide slowly pushed inward.
As the iceberg melted, warm clear water flowed into a nearby snow pit, steam rising in swirling mist.
At that moment, Old Barristan, the Hound, and a group of healthy soldiers escorted the wounded over.
Dany frowned at the filthy soldiers for a moment, then raised her voice. "Find pots and bowls. Come here and fetch water to clean your wounds."
After quite a while, the wounded trembled from being washed with lukewarm water. Only then did Dany have them squeeze together shoulder to shoulder once more.
"Most of you are not followers of the Seven. To improve the effectiveness of the Holy Healing spell, silently pray to the Mother in your hearts, and follow the Hound in chanting the Mother's Hymn."
"Follow me?" The Hound pointed at his own nose. "You're the High Septon!"
"You lead the hymn. I'll perform the divine spell."
"Fine." The Hound stepped to the front of the wounded. Under hundreds of curious and expectant gazes, he cleared his throat.
"Gentle Mother, fountain of mercy, bless your sons as they pass through fierce battle. Stay the arrows, turn aside the blades, let them see a brighter dawn.
Gentle Mother, hope of women, aid your daughters against suffering. Calm their anger, tame their fury, teach us to treat one another with mercy…"
After singing off-key in his rough, hoarse voice for a while, the Hound suddenly stopped, staring at the crowd before him.
"Why aren't you singing with me?"
"You're going too fast. They can't keep up," Dany said irritably.
Then the Hound slowly began to chant, "Gentle Mother, fountain of mercy."
"Gentle Mother, fountain of mercy." The Northerners sang out in the same equally off-key chorus.
Although their singing was not very good, the piety and sacred attitude Dany needed were present.
Simply put, without even realizing it or being willing to admit it, these Northerners had become shallow believers in the Seven.
Faith arises from expectation.
Now that they were suffering from illness and pain, they were undoubtedly hoping with all their hearts that the Mother would help them escape their current predicament.
This was the foundation of faith.
With faith in place, the efficiency of the holy healing spell increased more than tenfold.
Dany did not care about the Northerners' religious affiliation. She simply wanted to conserve some divine power and spiritual essence.
As the chorus of "The Song of the Mother" continued, a faint milky-white glow rose from their wounds, the halos connecting into a shimmering expanse of pale radiance.
Holy, sacred, grand, warm.
"Mother, I can feel it! The Mother is gazing at me tenderly, stroking my wounds. I'm full of strength!" A bearded Northerner shouted wildly with his eyes closed. The bite-torn flesh on his cheek visibly healed before the naked eye.
"The Mother is merciful! The hole in my belly is closing. My intestines are moving again!"
"A miracle! My leg is healed!"
"Isn't this a bit too exaggerated?" Jaime stared in astonishment.
"When the Hound cast a palm-sized holy healing spell, he was drenched in sweat from exhaustion. Yet the Queen treats six or seven hundred people at once without even paling. Is the gap between a High Septon and an ordinary cleric really that great?"
"Her Majesty is deeply favored by the Mother. She is the Holy Son of the Seven, different from the rest," Old Ba said devoutly.
Wounded soldiers are often one of the greatest causes of declining morale in an army. By the same logic, when the wounded receive effective treatment, especially a miraculous "group healing spell," even if Winterfell is frozen over, even if the Night King escapes, even if humanity suffers heavy casualties in this decisive battle, the remaining soldiers will quickly regain their fighting spirit and become invigorated.
The atmosphere in the camp at Winter Town became much lighter and more cheerful.
"What's going on with the Night King?" After the wounded had left, Dany continued burning through the ice cave and asked the Great Raven beside her.
Bran repeated what he had previously told Jaime and Old Ba, then concluded, "I can be absolutely certain that after changing bodies, the Night King will be much weaker than before.
The bloodline of House Stark is extraordinary. You should have sensed that."
Dany's eyes shifted as she asked, "Is it possible for the Night King to seize Jon's body? For example, by killing Jon, or abducting him and forcibly possessing his soul?"
"Absolutely not!" Bran said firmly. "Leaving aside that each Long Night can only have one Night King, after this rebirth, the Night King can no longer initiate a second life within another White Walker's body.
In the million-year history of the Three-Eyed Raven's legacy, all skinchangers and greenseers who initiated a second life lost the ability to occupy other living beings' bodies.
In other words, the talent for reincarnating through possession is one-time only. Once used, the skinchanger's ability is lost."
"So you mean if we kill the Night King again, he will definitely die?" Dany asked skeptically.
A trace of hesitation flashed in the Great Raven's eyes. "I'm not certain. Do you know how the Night King was born?"
"Do you?" Dany asked.
The Great Raven shook his head. "There are theories, but I don't know the exact process.
White Walkers leave crude ice runes in the sea of consciousness of the dead, transforming corpses into wights and controlling them. The Night King leaves his will and a meditation method in an infant's sea of consciousness, allowing the child to absorb the power of ice, become a White Walker, and be controlled by him.
So is it possible that through ritual sacrifice, the White Walkers summon the Cold God to descend, allowing the Cold God to leave his own consciousness in Benjen's sea of consciousness?"
"Very possible," Dany said.
"In that case, can the Cold God reclaim that assimilated soul, return it to his original body, or transfer that soul into the next White Walker's body?" Bran asked.
"Then the Night King would be impossible to kill forever?" Dany said.
"What I mean is that killing Benjen, the Night King who has initiated a second life, with ordinary weapons might not necessarily end the Long Night. What we truly need to do is annihilate the will of the Cold God within Benjen's soul!"
Dany fell into thought. "You're right. Our true enemy is the Cold God. Perhaps I need a stronger weapon."
"That talent which converts the soul into pure spiritual essence, can it be attached to a weapon? If successful, it would certainly be no weaker than Lightbringer," Bran said.
"Not at the moment."
"R'hllor's red sword, how much of it can you replicate?" Bran asked again.
"I can replicate it completely. I've fully deciphered its runes, but it's useless. I, Yang Dan, and R'hllor each have our own Song of Fire, and the foundational spell of the red sword is to unleash R'hllor's ultimate fire intent.
If I chant the complete Song of Fire, I can also forge a sword of fire that belongs to me."
Bran said helplessly, "In the end, to deal with a true god, only power at the level of a true god, or a weapon capable of unleashing such power, will suffice.
Aside from you, who has some chance, no one else can ever fulfill the oath that 'the one who ends the Long Night shall be king.'"
Yet Dany showed concern upon hearing this. "That's not good news. The oath will have to be revised. The one who contributes the most shall be king. I'm just a tool. I'm not participating in the competition."
Bran
(End of chapter)
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