The departure of Sigurd and Astrid left a vacuum in the formation, a physical absence that bothered like the phantom itch of an amputated limb. The body felt their presence there, waiting for movement in the field of vision, but the flanks remained empty and silent beneath the weight of the mist.
'One day we will meet again,' I told myself, trying to soothe the thick unease settling at the bottom of my stomach. It was the metallic taste Alexander and the other generals described in the Elysian Fields: the burden of sending soldiers into the field without the certainty of their return.
'No use overthinking it. I trained them for this. They are capable enough to see the mission through.'
I adjusted the reins, the leather hardened by the cold. Snowflakes melted as they touched the skin of my face and froze again before sliding down my neck, creating a rough crust. The wind of the Haunted Forest hit head-on, howling between the dead trunks and occupying the space on our trail. Kevin and Perseus kept the pace right behind, their silhouettes hunched against the grey fog that swallowed everything around, marking the beginning of the eight-day journey back to Whitetree.
Kevin rode loose in the saddle, his body swaying in a posture that ignored the biting air. A sharp, melancholy whistle slipped through his lips, rising and falling in time with his mount before losing itself in the frozen canopy.
"If the wind keeps howling like this, we'll arrive in Whitetree looking like ice statues," he said, interrupting the tune for a moment to scrape the frost gathering on his upper lip with his thumb.
Perseus cast a sideways glance, the muscles in his shoulders tensing the bearskin that covered him, but the archer merely winked a blue eye and resumed the melody with the same ease.
The sound died when Sleipnir stopped abruptly, locking the muscles of his front legs in the thick snow. The horse's ears swiveled forward with the precision of a compass. A loud snort blew from his nostrils, and the hot breath clashed with the frigid air, raising a thick cloud of steam.
I dismounted without a sound, feeling the white crust yield beneath my boots. I drew the Valyrian steel dagger and walked toward an outcropping of black rocks at the edge of the trail.
Kevin quickly drew his new weirwood bow, nocked an arrow, and slipped off his horse to circle the perimeter. Perseus sheathed his sword, dismounted, and followed me.
A few steps in, a ragged hiss cut through the stillness, immediately followed by a muffled snarl. I moved closer to the noise and soon saw them.
A direwolf pup and a black cat were tangled on the ground. The wolf bore a coat of such absolute black it seemed to swallow the dim light of the forest, using the weight of its paws to pin the cat against the stone. She slipped out from under each strike, sliding across the snow with an absurd, insulting agility. When my shadow covered the outcropping, the fight ceased. The cat backed away and arched her spine, fur standing on end from the nape of her neck to the base of her tail. The wolf lowered his center of gravity, scraping his chin on the ice, and raised his head in my direction, revealing irises like red rubies, alive and entirely still.
I crouched near the rocks. I pulled my right glove off with my teeth and held my palm open near the ground. The wolf's wet snout touched my skin first, and the cat's rough tongue came to rasp against my fingers a second later. A strong vibration ran down the base of my neck, the exact texture and essence I had felt during the trance in the cave, now gaining weight, scent, and physical form.
I pulled two pieces of dried meat from my pouch. The wolf devoured his share in a single bite, planting wide paws that already betrayed the terror of his lineage. The cat pulled the meat with fine teeth and savored it slowly, with conscious elegance.
"Finally found you. Or rather, you found me, pup," I said, rubbing the wolf's small head. He rolled onto his back in the snow, belly exposed, clearly asking to be pet.
"Hahaha, looks like you enjoy a good scratch, boy," I said, now knowing the wolf's sex.
"And you," I said, moving my hand over the cat's fur. I soon noticed the white stripes crossing her coat, which I had previously mistaken for snow.
'A shadowcat,' I thought, surprised.
Just like the wolf pup, the cat rolled onto her back.
"A girl, then," I said, smiling. "You need names. How about..."
"Fenrir," I said, looking into the large animal's red irises. I turned my face to his black companion. "And you will be Hela."
"Marvelous," Kevin commented, stepping out from the trees. He stopped a few paces from the rocks, resting his hands on his hips and flashing his usual crooked smile. "Now you just need two ravens and an eye patch, and you're Odin."
Perseus crouched beside me and let Hela walk up to him. The cat sniffed his stained leather glove and bumped her small body against the warrior's thick legs. His calloused fingers hesitated before descending to the black neck. A rhythmic purr echoed in the freezing air. I scooped Fenrir up, feeling the dense weight of muscle and bone still forming, while Perseus lifted Hela.
"It seems the Gods don't want us alone. Let me introduce you. This big boy here is Fenrir, and this girl is Hela," I said, approaching the spot where the horses waited.
I presented both to Sleipnir, who snorted again, steam billowing from his nostrils.
"I think he likes you," I said with a faint smile, running a hand over Sleipnir's head.
On the sixth day of the march, the beating of large wings broke the constant silence of the North. A massive raven dove from the grey mist and dug its claws into the leather on my left shoulder. Seconds later, another bird plummeted from the white sky and seized my right shoulder. The weight distributed itself symmetrically, and the connection snapped shut at my neck like a tight noose, carrying a cold, ancient, and dual perception.
"Curse my mouth," Kevin said. He rubbed his bowstring with his thumb, eyeing the birds with clear discomfort.
"Looks like our other companions have arrived," I told Fenrir and Hela, who were keeping warm inside my coat.
I extended my arm, and the two ravens hopped onto it, their claws squeezing my arm. Had I not been wearing thick furs, they probably would have cut skin.
They were nearly identical, the only difference being a small white patch on the right one's chest.
"You will be Huginn," I said, stroking the entirely black raven's small head.
"And you will be Muninn," I said, now stroking the head of the raven with the white patch on its chest.
As soon as I finished naming them, they both took flight and settled on a branch, watching us.
"They scare me," Kevin said.
"Everything scares you, Kevin," Perseus replied with a slight edge of disdain.
The white canopies of Whitetree pierced through the fog at the end of the eighth day. Morghaz dropped a bundle of firewood on the packed earth the moment we entered the camp, and Belzakar stopped immediately beside him. The eyes of the two ex-Unsullied swept over us, registering my presence, Kevin's, and Perseus'. The scrutiny paused at the empty space left by Sigurd and Astrid, but their postures remained rigid. Their faces held the tactical neutrality Slaver's Bay had burned into their bones.
"Arthur, how are you?" Belzakar asked, his voice flat and devoid of oscillation.
"I am well, my friends. And you? How are things here?" I asked them both.
"All is well. We had minor friction with some of the Free Folk, but it has been resolved," Belzakar answered.
"Did the giant or the girl fall?" Morghaz asked.
"They are alive," I replied, dismounting from Sleipnir and kicking the snow from my boots. "They left to fulfill missions on another front."
The two exchanged a single peripheral glance and confirmed the report with a short nod. The matter was closed. I walked to the huts where Tove and Fjorn stood.
"Tove. Fjorn." I unhooked the sack from my belt and placed it in Tove's hands. Silver coins, a fair amount of them. "We know how scarce things are here. Taking in more mouths for weeks is no small thing. I apologize for the burden we left."
Tove weighed the sack in her hand without opening it. "Belzakar and Morghaz brought enough game. Two deer, a boar. The women helped with the curing, repairing the nets, tending the sick children." She gave a short nod. "It was no burden. They helped a lot."
Fjorn nodded without speaking. He had the posture of a man who confirms with his body what his wife has already said with words.
"The coins will serve to trade with the rangers when they pass through. Salt, iron, whatever you need." I folded Tove's fingers over the sack. "The North remembers."
Tove looked at me for a second. Then she stowed the sack inside her cloak without ceremony.
"We leave at dawn," I said.
"Figured as much." Tove crossed her arms. "Ride safe."
Fjorn extended his hand. I gripped his forearm, the firm hold of men who have no need for more words.
Nella waited a few paces from the main fire. Her arms hugged her chest tightly, and her eyes swept our line the moment the horses entered the camp. When I dismounted, she let out her breath all at once. Thick white mist slipped through her cracked lips.
"Thank the gods," Nella said, letting the tension in her shoulders yield for a fraction of a second. "We were starting to think the ice had swallowed you. The delay was too long."
I stopped near the fire and held my hands over the flames. The heat tingled in my numb joints.
"We had to clear the road," I answered, turning my palms to the fire. "Everyone is standing."
Fenrir and Hela emerged from the snow before I finished the sentence. The two slipped through the horses and stopped at my feet. Fenrir sat on the packed dirt, his red eyes sweeping the village with the attention of someone mapping new territory. Hela brushed her flank against my lined boot, stepped half a pace away, and licked her own paw, ignoring the rest.
Nella narrowed her eyes at the animals. Her gaze quickly shot back to the horses behind me, scanning the line. The crease in her forehead deepened when she didn't find what she was looking for.
"Where is Astrid?" she asked, her voice rising half a pitch.
"She is well," I said, rubbing the back of my hands. "Stayed with Sigurd on a mission further north. They are together."
Nella went quiet for a second. Her mouth tightened. She uncrossed her arms and pointed her chin toward the ground.
"And these two?"
Fenrir raised his head toward her. His red irises blinked slowly in the fire's reflection.
"Fenrir," I said, indicating the wolf with a nod. "And Hela."
The cat had seated herself on the tip of my boot and looked at Nella with the expression of someone who hadn't yet decided if the woman deserved attention.
Nella assessed the wolf for a long moment. Then she crouched slowly and extended the back of her hand. Fenrir stretched his neck and sniffed her skin. His wet snout touched her fingers for a second, and he pulled back, returning to his seated position.
"Where did you find them?" she asked, withdrawing her hand.
"They found me," I answered.
Nella stared at Fenrir for another instant. Then she stood, her spine straightening and her face closing again.
"Right." She pressed her lips together.
Stepping away from the fire, I told Nella, "We leave at dawn. Tell the women to gather their belongings and prepare. We march for the Wall."
Nella turned her back without replying and walked toward the houses.
On the other side of the fire, Belzakar, Morghaz, Perseus, and Kevin were clustered together. Kevin swung a wooden mug in his hands as he spoke, the liquid nearly spilling into the snow with every movement. Perseus listened with crossed arms and the expression of someone who already knows how the story ends. Morghaz and Belzakar kept their backs straight, their tactical posture unchanged even while resting.
I approached the circle. They made room without stopping their conversation.
"We march at dawn," I announced, stopping beside Morghaz. "Prepare the horses and supplies today."
"About time," Morghaz said. He emptied the mug in a single gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Any plan besides crossing the Wall, or is it a surprise?" Kevin asked. He lowered his cup and raised an eyebrow, a cynical smile threatening to appear.
"Tomorrow," I answered, already turning my back to the fire. "I'm going to sleep."
Kevin opened his mouth to retort. Perseus placed a heavy hand on the archer's shoulder before any sound came out.
I walked to the nearest hut and pushed the leather flap open. Fenrir followed uncalled and lay on the packed earth floor, crossing his paws at the entrance. Hela was already curled up in the middle of the straw pallet when I leaned over it.
I closed my eyes.
The journey consumed an entire week. The fifty women and children of Craster advanced with the dragging slowness of short steps, bearing heavy burdens and their own exhausted lives on their backs. The Wall appeared on the horizon, dominating the leaden sky like a scar of white, eternal ice tearing through the world, watching our total insignificance in the vastness.
On the third night, we made camp beneath the twisted branches of frozen sentinel trees. The fire crackled and threw sparks into the dark, illuminating the sharp fear in those women's eyes. I picked up the lute. My fingers scraped the thick strings, and the melody rose from my chest, deep, dragging the echoes of the Elysian Fields into the heart of the wasteland. I sang of the fire that refuses death and the roots that sustain the world during the fury of winter. Across the circle, a child's crying lost its strength until it faded completely, while Nella let her breath out slowly and rested her head against a fallen trunk. The sound of the strings swallowed the clearing.
On the seventh day, the Wall swallowed the horizon. A colossal wall of ice blocking the world. From the North side, no castle was visible. The wind battered the ancient structure and whistled back toward the dead forest.
"There's no gate here," Perseus said, squinting against the glare of the ice. "How are we going to cross?"
"Through the dark," I answered.
I guided Sleipnir to a natural fissure at the base of the Wall, half-covered by accumulated snow. We dismounted and entered. The ice tunnel was wide enough for the horses to pass, and the walls echoed the sound of our footsteps. The air inside smelled of an ancient cold that had never seen the sunlight.
The darkness swallowed us whole. At the end of the passage, the Black Gate blocked the way: a colossal face of pale weirwood that seemed to grow from the ice itself, the wrinkled wood forming deep furrows around closed eyes.
"Who are you?"
The deep voice tore through the wood and trembled the ground beneath our boots.
I drew the dragonbone dagger. I made a quick cut across my left palm and watched the hot blood run down my skin. I pressed my open hand against the pale lips of the tree, letting the True Tongue rise through my throat.
"I am the ice and I am the fire."
The Black Gate opened its white eyes. The milky glow illuminated the ice tunnel. The mouth cracked open with immense force, the wood expanding until it formed a cavernous, damp archway.
We passed through the throat of the tree. The freezing air of the tunnel gave way to the smell of old earth and wet stone. We emerged at the base of a long, wide stone ramp carved into the castle's foundations, now on the south side of the Wall.
We ascended the sloping tunnel one by one, the horses' hooves slipping slightly on the dark moss and scraping against loose stone. The smell of mold thickened with every yard we left behind in the darkness.
We reached the top and stepped out into the abandoned kitchens. The black stone carcass of the Nightfort finally received us. Grey light leaked through a destroyed dome in the ceiling, illuminating the crumbled towers and cracked walls that rose like forgotten tombs. In the center of the shattered hall, a massive weirwood broke through the stone floor, extending thick, white branches like crooked fingers reaching for the air.
"That tree's mouth was uglier than a giant with a toothache," Perseus said, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Kevin let out a raspy laugh that echoed loudly through the rotting ceiling beams.
"Belzakar, Morghaz, Perseus. Check the entire fort. I want to know if there is anyone else breathing within these walls."
The three scattered through the dark corridors. Fenrir sat near the weirwood's roots, his red eyes sweeping the hall. Hela disappeared among the rusted iron cauldrons.
Half an hour passed. Then they returned, one by one.
"Empty," Morghaz said. "Only dust and wind."
"All clear," Perseus confirmed.
"Not necessarily." Kevin looked up at the dark corners of the ceiling. "Whatever trapped souls are here are no joke. They say the dead never left the cellars."
A few children near Nella shrank back toward their mothers. Nella shot Kevin a look that required no words.
"Take the women to rest," I said.
"Some of the dormitories are in fair condition," Belzakar said. "I'll take them."
While the group left the hall, I approached a dust-covered stone table. I pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote a short note to Castle Black. I called Muninn and secured the letter in his claws.
"Castle Black, my friend."
The raven gave my finger a light peck. He cawed. Beating his wings, he vanished through the open dome.
"What's the next step?" Perseus approached. "Do we head back to Winterfell?"
"Belzakar and Morghaz will take the women to the winter town. My father will organize housing for them."
"And us?" Kevin asked.
"We're going hunting." I answered with a smile.
"Hunting what?" The gleam in Kevin's eyes appeared before the question was finished.
"Bandits. Rapists. Slavers. Ironborn." I folded the remaining parchment. "We need a reputation. Without it, the other plans won't move forward."
"Banditry has risen quite a bit in recent years," Perseus said.
"I need to contact Eldric, find out what he knows about the region." I put the parchment away. "Go rest. I'll take the watch."
"Standing guard in this place has its own charm," Kevin said with a short laugh.
The others chuckled quietly. The tension left the hall along with them.
Fenrir and Hela were already curled up near the fireplace Kevin had lit before leaving. The fire crackled. The shadows on the stone walls were long and still.
I sat in a heavy chair and began to write to my father. I reported what had happened north of the Wall, omitting what didn't need to arrive by letter. I told him I was well. That the symbol of House Stark had returned with me. I mentioned Fenrir and Hela. I asked after my siblings and requested news about Moat Cailin and Sea Dragon Point.
I sealed the letter with wax and called Huginn. The raven landed on the arm of the chair, looked at me with yellow eyes for a second, took the letter, and departed through the broken dome.
The sky outside was black. The Nightfort fell silent.