The battle between ice and fire began.
With a deafening roar, four legendary swords — two burning with divine flame, two gleaming with frozen death — collided in a storm of raw power.
The impact jarred Aedric's arms to the bone. It had been a long time since he'd felt that kind of strength from an opponent. He gritted his teeth and muttered, "Damn, this popsicle's got some serious muscle. No wonder he could kill a dragon with one spear. His raw power might even beat mine."
Realizing he couldn't win in a direct contest of strength, Aedric broke away and shifted tactics, unleashing the lightning-fast techniques of the Jade Maiden Sword. He darted around the Night King like a blur, blades flashing too quickly for mortal eyes.
And speed — was something the Night King could not match.
As the final boss of a magical world, the Night King was indeed terrifying. But his swordsmanship and agility couldn't compare to someone who had survived and mastered countless supreme techniques from martial arts realms.
However, what the Night King lacked in skill, he made up for in nature-defying power — the ability to freeze everything.
Even with his body protected by pure Yang internal energy and dragonfire, Aedric felt the chill creeping in. The Night King's frost was everywhere — it seeped through armor, air, and even breath itself. His limbs were growing sluggish, his movements slower with each exchange.
And the longer the fight dragged on, the worse it got.
Inwardly, Aedric thought of Arya Stark — the girl who, in the show, had somehow killed this monster with one strike. There was no way she'd have survived his touch without divine intervention. "That 'Many-Faced God' must've given her some kind of protection," he thought grimly.
As for his own dragonfire — its energy level was higher than the Night King's frost, but this was the Night King's domain. The storm, the snow, the air itself — all of it obeyed him. The sheer volume of cold he could command dwarfed Aedric's own reserves a hundredfold.
Every burst of flame Aedric unleashed was smothered by the overwhelming tide of winter. He couldn't inflict any real damage.
After hundreds of furious exchanges, realizing he couldn't win head-on, Aedric switched to a hit-and-run strategy — stalling, dodging, buying time.
And just as the fight reached its peak — blades clashing in an inferno of flame and frost — a shout echoed from deep within the cave:
"It's done! Jon Snow!"
Aedric didn't hesitate. He poured all his dragonfire into both swords, igniting them into two blinding lances of scarlet light. Abandoning all defense, he drove both blades straight for the Night King's heart and the blue crystal embedded within his chest.
For the first time, emotion flickered across the Night King's face — a hint of alarm.
He raised one ice sword to block the strike aimed at his core crystal, but ignored the other aimed at his heart — thrusting instead at Aedric's own chest in a suicidal counterattack.
A double kill. Two lives for one.
If it had been anyone else, the Night King's sword would've gone straight through. Even if Aedric's strike landed, the Night King, being a creature of magic, could survive a broken heart. Aedric, a man of flesh and blood, could not.
The Night King's icy blade stabbed hard — but instead of piercing through, it scraped against something unyielding.
A burst of black flame erupted from his chest, consuming the Night King's front in searing fire.
Aedric was blasted backward, coughing blood — but still alive.
"Sorry, pal," he gasped between breaths, "Valyrian steel armor. Look it up."
Who plays fair in a death match, anyway?
Enduring the pain, he flipped through the air and landed, sheathing both swords in one motion. In the same instant, he bolted into the cave.
Bran barely had time to look up before Aedric's palm struck. Smack!
The boy collapsed instantly — as did three nearby Children of the Forest who hadn't reacted in time.
Aedric turned toward Brynden Rivers — the old Three-Eyed Raven now fused into the roots of the weirwood — and the last remaining forest child. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can only save this many."
Brynden smiled faintly, as if he'd expected it. "Do it, Jon Snow."
Twin jets of dragonfire burst from Aedric's palms, engulfing the Raven and the final child in cleansing flame. He watched silently until they were gone — completely turned to ash — before turning toward the cave entrance, where the undead horde was already closing in.
In a flash, he stored two of the unconscious Children in his living-space ring, grabbed Bran and the third by the arms, and activated his ultimate escape skill — Dimensional Shift.
A heartbeat later, the cave was empty.
They reappeared thousands of miles away — at the base of the Wall.
Aedric had placed the return mark here long ago, just in case. If not for the Wall's magic barrier that blocked all teleportation, he would've marked Winterfell itself.
Unfortunately, that wasn't possible.
Drained and pale, he leaned against the icy stones, panting. His strength and qi were nearly gone.
His Dimensional Shift could be used only three times per day — and carrying another person consumed an extra charge each time. Combined with the limited space of his living ring (barely one cubic meter, enough for two living beings), saving four people had been his absolute limit.
The rest… he could only mourn.
And to make sure they wouldn't be raised as wights, he had burned their bodies himself before leaving. There had been no time — only survival.
When Bran and the three rescued Children finally awoke, Aedric explained everything. They thanked him deeply and expressed full understanding — even gratitude.
The secret of the spatial ring, of course, he kept to himself. As far as anyone knew, his teleportation could only carry a few people at once.
Whether Bran — now the new Three-Eyed Raven — believed that or not didn't matter. Aedric had done his part.
If the boy dared to complain, well… a good slap or two would fix that.
Since protecting the Three-Eyed Raven was the sacred duty of the Children of the Forest, the three survivors immediately knelt and swore eternal allegiance to Bran Stark — their new master, and the last hope of the living world.
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