The battlefield was a scene from a nightmare.
At first, the soldiers believed the blue-eyed monsters could be killed like any ordinary enemy.
They were wrong.
Men quickly discovered that even after having their heads severed, these creatures continued to fight. Headless bodies still swung weapons with terrifying strength, blindly seeking living flesh to destroy.
Even worse, severed fingers crawled across the frozen ground like grotesque insects, dragging themselves toward the nearest living person.
It was as though death held no meaning for them.
The only way to truly destroy the creatures was to reduce them to pieces.
Only when their bodies were completely dismembered did the eerie blue light finally vanish from their eyes.
But that lesson came at a terrible cost.
More than a dozen men had died before anyone realized it.
"Burn them!"
"Burn them!"
"Burn them!"
A sharp voice suddenly pierced the chaos.
No one knew who had shouted it.
In the darkness, it didn't matter.
Fear ruled the battlefield, and desperate men clung to any suggestion that offered hope.
One frightened soldier stumbled into a campfire, scattering burning embers across the snow-covered ground.
By pure chance, several sparks landed on one of the corpse demons.
The effect was immediate.
The creature's clothing caught fire.
Then something horrifying happened.
Black liquid began to seep from its frozen wounds.
The substance looked almost like crude oil.
The moment the flames touched it, the entire creature erupted into a blazing inferno.
Whoosh!
The corpse demon became a living torch.
Its flesh seemed to melt like wax.
Its bones crackled like dry timber.
The monster, which moments before had shown no fear and no pain, suddenly panicked.
It flailed wildly.
Its arms beat against its burning body in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames.
But the harder it struggled, the brighter the fire burned.
The soldiers stared in disbelief.
Then realization struck.
Fire.
Fire was their weakness.
"Use the flames!"
"Burn them!"
"Get the torches!"
The terrified defenders rushed toward every available source of fire.
Torches were snatched from walls.
Burning logs were dragged from campfires.
Oil lamps were hurled at advancing monsters.
Soon, the darkness was filled with moving flames.
Pairs of glowing blue eyes became wandering bonfires across the battlefield.
One by one, the creatures collapsed.
One by one, they burned into blackened corpses.
And this time, they did not rise again.
By the time Tywin Lannister and Kevan Lannister arrived, the worst of the fighting was already over.
The open ground beyond Castle Black glowed with dozens of burning pyres.
Their flickering light illuminated frightened faces stained with sweat and blood.
Tywin surveyed the scene in silence.
His sharp green eyes missed nothing.
The dead.
The wounded.
The terrified expressions.
The lingering smell of burnt flesh.
Then his gaze drifted toward the sword hanging at his side.
Longclaw.
The ancestral Valyrian steel blade of House Mormont.
For a brief moment, he considered drawing it.
Then he quietly left it sheathed.
The crisis had already passed.
The solution had been found.
Order was slowly returning.
Yet no one felt relieved.
The battle might have ended, but terror remained.
The wounded cried out in pain.
The dead lay where they had fallen.
And despite the flames keeping the darkness at bay, everyone understood a terrible truth.
Eventually, the fires would burn out.
Eventually, night would return.
Tywin's expression remained calm.
"Burn every corpse."
His voice carried across the gathering.
"Anyone killed by those creatures must be burned immediately."
He paused before continuing.
"And any man who dies from his wounds as well."
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances.
Nobody questioned the order.
They had already seen enough.
Tywin turned toward his younger brother.
"Kevan."
"Treat the wounded in a centralized location."
"Increase the patrols."
"Take every torch from storage and keep them burning throughout the night."
His emphasis on the final words was unmistakable.
Kevan understood immediately.
Not all dangers came from beyond the Wall.
If any injured man died during the night...
He might rise again.
The thought chilled him.
"I understand."
Tywin nodded.
Then he climbed onto a nearby platform.
Hundreds of eyes turned toward him.
Every soldier in the camp was awake.
Fear and uncertainty filled their faces.
Tywin stood tall.
His crimson cloak fluttered behind him.
When he spoke, his voice carried the same authority that had ruled the Westerlands for decades.
"This was an unexpected incident."
"We will investigate everything thoroughly."
"Until then, no rumors."
"No speculation."
"No panic."
His gaze swept across the crowd.
"What you faced tonight was not an invincible enemy."
The words sounded reassuring.
Even if Tywin himself wasn't entirely convinced.
"We have discovered its weakness."
"We have survived."
"And we will continue to survive."
The murmuring crowd slowly quieted.
Tywin pressed on.
"I have already prepared provisions."
"I have already made plans."
"We will not remain in this frozen wasteland forever."
His voice grew stronger.
"Soon we will march south."
"We will crush anyone who stands in our path."
"And we will return home."
Many soldiers visibly relaxed.
Not because they believed every word.
But because Tywin believed them.
Or at least appeared to.
That alone was enough.
A leader's confidence was often more important than the truth.
Tywin knew that better than anyone.
After finishing his speech, he stepped down without another word.
There was nothing more to say.
At moments like this, excessive explanations only created more questions.
Darkness amplified fear.
Rumors fed panic.
The best thing he could do was remain calm.
If he appeared unshaken, others would follow.
Slowly, the crowd dispersed.
The soldiers returned to their quarters.
Most would not sleep.
But at least they would stop panicking.
As Tywin walked away, Kevan followed him.
The younger Lannister understood his role.
Tywin had stabilized morale.
Now it was his responsibility to ensure the camp functioned properly.
But before Kevan could leave, Tywin stopped him.
"Investigate everything again."
Kevan nodded.
"The attacks?"
"The casualties?"
"Everything."
Tywin lowered his voice.
"And question the Night's Watch."
His eyes drifted toward the distant tower.
"Especially Maester Aemon."
"The blind maester may know more than he has revealed."
Kevan considered the request.
"I'll handle it personally."
"No."
Tywin shook his head.
"Close the gates first."
"No one enters."
"No one leaves."
The seriousness in his voice made Kevan frown.
Tywin continued.
"We cannot waste time dealing with matters beyond the Wall."
"Our focus must shift."
"House Umber."
The name hung heavily between them.
"The letters sent to Winterfell and King's Landing will accomplish little."
Tywin's expression darkened.
"Who would believe such a story?"
"Dead men walking."
"Blue-eyed monsters."
"Most will assume we're lying."
His jaw tightened.
"But if we manage our contact with House Umber correctly, we can buy valuable time."
Kevan wanted to argue.
For once, even he wasn't entirely certain his brother was right.
Yet after decades of following Tywin Lannister, he had learned one lesson above all others.
Never underestimate him.
"I understand."
Tywin gave a slight nod.
Then his hand settled upon the pommel of Longclaw.
The bear-headed hilt felt cold beneath his fingers.
Something about that sword bothered him.
Something he couldn't quite explain.
But tonight had proven one thing.
The world was changing.
And not for the better.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)