There aren't many villages north of the Wall. Wright and Odahviing confirmed the direction, realizing they were roughly due north of Black Castle, which should be Craster Castle according to the Night Watch.
The sky was filled with blood-red snowflakes. Wright raised his hand, and the snowflakes that landed on his gauntlet evaporated upon contact with the dragonbone, leaving behind a pool of red powder.
Wright rubbed the powder. "Can you feel it, Odahviing? It's blood magic. The sky is saturated with it."
"This place gives me the creeps! And you won't let me use dragonfire to burn it all!" Odahviing complained.
Looking at the dark needle forest below, Wright said, "Destroying it is easy, but this strange phenomenon needs investigating. Why don't we land first?"
"Feim~~Zii~~Gron~!" Odahviing cast a dragon tongue spell, turning his body into a transparent blue phantom.
Wright, holding onto his horn, suddenly felt weightless. His body passed through Odahviing's head and plummeted rapidly toward Castle Black.
"Go ahead, but call me when you're done with your investigation." Odahviing, in his ethereal form, threw Wright down and flew off, leaving behind only his words.
"Couldn't you at least say something before using magic?!" Fortunately, Wright knew many spells. He adjusted his body in midair and flew slowly toward the center of Castle Black.
As Wright neared the ground, he noticed that the needle trees here had all had their leaves and bark stripped away, leaving only bare trunks. There was no snow on the ground, just deep black slime covering it. The trees, after absorbing the slime, had turned black.
Squish!
"Damn it!" Wright cursed as his feet sank into the soft "black mud", making an unpleasant sound. Upon landing, he started grumbling.
The harder surface of the black mud cracked as Wright's feet sank past his ankles. He pulled his right leg out, finding a mess of red, meat-like substance underneath. Fresh red blood clung to his boots, making a sizzling sound.
Wright gathered his magic in his right leg, and the dragonbone boots began emitting white frost. He stomped hard on the black mud, causing ice flowers to explode, releasing cold air, and quickly forming a path of ice ahead.
The so-called castle of Craster was actually just a few small two-story wooden buildings where he and his many daughters, along with livestock, lived together. He was the only male there, and his daughters would keep giving birth to more daughters. If a son was born, he was offered to the Others as a gift.
Wright entered the dilapidated wooden house, which emitted a foul stench. He gently pushed the door open, and the decayed wooden door immediately fell to the ground. The whole house creaked, as though it could collapse at any moment.
Whether the house collapsed or not was irrelevant to Wright, as he had finally found what his magical senses had detected.
In the center of the hall, tables and chairs were piled up on a collapsed wooden staircase, and in the middle stood a two-story-high pillar—a living pillar.
At the base of the pillar were pools of yellowish-white fat, the source of the foul smell.
Wright covered his nose and approached. He found that the pillar was made up of both men and women, most of whom were human, with a few vampires. Their skin had been peeled off, revealing fresh, red muscle and blood vessels. Their upper bodies radiated outward from the center of the pillar, while their lower halves were fused together to form this grotesque flesh-and-blood column.
"There's nothing more disgusting than this! It's hard to even know where to begin investigating."
Perhaps hearing Wright, one of the men on the pillar raised his head, his eyes fixed on Wright. He snarled as he reached out, trying to grab him.
"Hiss~~Ah"
The others on the pillar were awakened, and the once lifeless column immediately came to life. Everyone on the pillar began to lash out, snarling and reaching toward Wright.
Wright's stomach churned, almost unable to hold down his disgust. Realizing he couldn't deal with this, he quickly retreated outside the house, but he didn't want to leave empty-handed.
After thinking for a moment, Wright used ice magic to freeze the wooden house with a layer of solid ice, then began casting a summoning spell.
"Dragonborn! The taste of flesh and blood, I like it!"
"I want to feast on fresh blood!"
Two dark-armored Dremora Lords appeared before Wright, immediately sniffing the air.
"Eat and drink as much as you want today, my treat!" Wright said with a beaming smile as he greeted the two Dremora Lords.
"There's meat, blood, and even souls. Help yourselves! But while you're enjoying the feast, could you also help me take a look at this meat rack?"
"No need to be polite!"
"Sounds good!"
The Dremora Lords held high positions in Oblivon, though they were only ordinary demon warriors under the title of "lord" in the summoning contract. Having dealt with Wright several times before, they remembered the last time they had helped Dagon bring Wright and Renly to Oblivion, which had strained their relationship a bit. They hadn't expected Wright to be so polite today.
Wright led the Dremoras into the wooden house, pointing at the blood flesh giant pillar, where figures were crawling all over it, constantly hissing: "Please, enjoy your meal, my lords!"
"I ate too much yesterday," one Dremora with red facial markings crossing its eyes said, rubbing its stomach.
The other Dremora closed its eyes for a moment before speaking to Wright: "The Dremora soldiers are preparing for war in other realms. They are calling for me. I must return quickly!"
The demon wasn't foolish. Outside, the scent of blood flesh was so strong that it had ignored the magical aura. But upon entering, it immediately realized something was wrong—the pillar was an altar modified by blood magic!
Seeing the purple magic flaring up in the Dremora's hand, Wright quickly grabbed both demons, pulling them to the flesh pillar:
"Look, no matter how strange it seems, it's still made of flesh. You two are professionals, so the pus and rotting organs should be a delicacy for you. Help me research this pillar. The rest of the stuff is all yours. You can take it and pack it up if you like!"
"This is vampire blood magic, necromantic corpse summoning, and human flesh and souls all mixed together. It doesn't end well," the demon shared what it knew.
Wright's hands, still resting on the demon's shoulder, tightened, and his tone turned cold with a hint of mockery: "These vampires come from Coldharbour. Are you afraid of them now, just seeing them?"
"Haha, we're afraid of the Lord of Coldharbour?"
"The demons are at odds with those mongrels!"
The Daedric Princes Mehrunes Dagon and Molag Bal were always in competition, one preferring to conquer and enslave souls with heat and flame, the other chilling with cold darkness. Their domains clashed in every way, and their subordinates followed suit.
Wright took out the dagger given by Dagon and played with it: "The Lord of Coldharbour has been spreading the vampire bloodline everywhere. This is how they're invading my world. If you can figure out the workings of this thing, you can report back to Dagon."
"For the great work of our lord!"
The two demons were swayed by Wright's words, shouting slogans as they drew their massive swords and charged at the flesh pillar. They hacked and slashed, sending organs flying, occasionally grabbing a piece to eat. Wright quickly ran out of the room.
Outside the house, Wright set up defensive magic arrays, the massive sword leaning against an icy chair as he waited for the army of the others. But after waiting so long, nearly falling asleep, no one came. It wasn't until the noises in the house stopped that the two demons walked out.
"Dragonborn, we figured it out. You'd better remember this. We must return quickly to report to Dagon," one Dremora said, holding a human leg, munching on it as they walked.
Wright, seemingly unfazed by the sight of the demons in fancy armor eating human flesh before him, asked, "What did you find out?"
The flesh pillar was a modified blood altar, made with nine living White Walker heads, eighteen vampires, and eighty-one humans.
It was supported by a metal frame, with human flesh supplying energy, vampire blood fueling the magic, and the White Walker heads buried deep inside to control the wights. The altar had fully powered the control over the wights, sending them to attack the Wall from thousands of miles away. Now that the altar was destroyed, the remaining wights could only be controlled up close by the White Walkers. Wright felt that even though he hadn't found the Night King, his trip was still useful. At least now, if wights appeared again and weren't seen in his line of sight, he could head straight for this strange altar.
Wright pointed at the leg the Dremora was eating, "Were they volunteers?"
The Dremora waved its hand, "Only the most twisted flesh and the most tortured souls can make the altar function at its peak!"
The other Dremora added, "From their souls, we learned that these people were unaware. They were sent here by a vampire named Craster, who had them beaten by their own people and turned into part of the altar."
"Craster! That bastard isn't human, just trash!"
Wright turned around, raised his hand, and gathered fire, lightning, and storms into a combined magic attack. A charged spell obliterated the wooden house into pieces. The flames, laced with lightning, swirled like a tornado, sucking up flying debris and turning everything before him into ashes.
The demons returned to the Oblivion realm, and Wright summoned Odahviing to fly south with him.
---
"My horse is out of energy! Get over here and help move the supplies!" On a wooden boat with supports on both sides, Captain Lyra Mormont shouted.
"No more horses, the only ones left to run are those right in front of us." On a nearby ship, Jorah Mormont pulled off his snow-blocking face mask and spoke, a large puff of white smoke escaping as he spoke.
In the northwestern part of the North, west of Shadow Tower, east of Bear Island, this stretch of sea often had drifting ice from the North, so it was called Ice Bay. The long and cold winter had caused Ice Bay to freeze completely, and the Mormont family's supply fleet for Shadow Tower had replaced their ships with smaller boats a few years ago, modifying their hulls to be drawn by horses to slide across the ice.
Jorah looked back. The once massive northern fleet of over a hundred ships had only half followed. Upon seeing Jorah stop his ship, they all gathered around, docking their boats in a circle to block the wind and snow, allowing the men and horses to enter and rest.
The Shadow Tower had been breached, and they had fled overnight, not daring to stop along the way. Many of the horses had died, and some people had gotten lost in the snowstorm and were now unaccounted for.
"Do we still need to run? Those monsters haven't caught up to us," Lyra, Jorah's younger sister, said. She was more stocky than her thin brother.
Hearing the word "monsters", Jorah's heart started racing again as memories of the brutal battle at Shadow Tower flooded back. His mood was grim, and his tone was harsh: "You should be thankful those damn giant spiders slipped on the ice! Otherwise, we'd all be dead at Shadow Tower!"
Lyra began to argue, "There are no cowards on Bear Island! Women can fight too!"
"Didn't you hear what the people on top of the Wall said? There's an endless sea of wights outside the Wall! Oh, right, the ones on top are all dead, only I and one Night's Watchman made it out. You were on the ship the whole time, so you didn't hear." Jorah took off his glove and showed his sister the burned skin on his hand.
It was clear that Jorah had made the difficult decision to retreat after a hard-fought battle. Lyra asked, "Is your hand okay?"
"It's been treated by a mage. I can still move it, but I'll need a healing potion when we get back." Jorah said, then looked up at the sky. "With a south wind, we're close to Bear Island. Let the horses rest for half an hour, then we'll set out. The people of Bear Island need to evacuate. We must notify them as soon as possible."
The ravens from Shadow Tower hadn't been sent, and Jorah was in a hurry to pack up valuable things from his family before the wights reached Bear Island. That's why he was so anxious.
With the horses dead, Lyra's boat had lost its purpose. Jorah ordered the food from the boat to be unloaded, using the bottom as a stove, and the boat's wood to start a fire and cook. The few Night's Watchmen who had fled with Jorah insisted on standing guard first before eating.
In the vast, endless ice, a light appeared—such a clear target! The vigilant Night's Watchmen quickly spotted two figures rapidly approaching through the snowstorm.
"Chasers! Quickly, take up arms! We have chasers!"
"Are they wights?"
"They won't stop chasing us, even if we die!"
Jorah drew his Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, and grabbed a family knight, shouting, "You and Lyra take one of the ships and head back to Bear Island. We'll hold off the chasers!"
"We leave together!" Lyra shouted.
"You think I don't want that? The wights are coming for me! They'll chase me wherever I go!" Jorah recalled the battle at Shadow Tower, where he had slain one wight with Longclaw. The wight's scream still echoed in his mind.
"Everyone, listen up! Use your shields to block the gaps! Coat your spears in pitch, and those in the back, light your torches!"
Jorah believed the wights were out for revenge and that he had to die. If Wright had been there, or if Jorah had described the wight's appearance to him, he would've known that it was a freshly turned wight without its ice armor, an expendable one. But with no ravens to send, Jorah had no choice but to flee.
A long, chilling howl echoed through the air...
"Wolves? Wights don't howl like that! Hahaha!" The knights peered through the gap.
"It's alive! It's alive!" A Night's Watchman dropped his longsword and started crying, clutching his head.
A wolf and a horse, a woman and a man. The woman in front was dressed in thin but extravagant clothing, and the strong white-haired man in armor followed closely behind her.
Geralt shouted as he looked at the flag hanging from the ship: "Are you from Bear Island?"
"I'm Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island!" Jorah pushed through the crowd and stepped out of the circle of ships. He didn't recognize the man, but the woman seemed somewhat familiar—white clothing, white mask. Jorah pulled off his mask to reveal his face and asked, "Are you Sansa?"
"Mm."
Jorah's face lit up with joy as he shouted to the people behind him: "Wonderful, the Mage of the Red Keep is here to rescue us!"
Sansa spoke calmly: "Ser Jorah, don't celebrate just yet. I have something urgent to ask you. Before Shadow Tower was breached by the wights, were there any important figures there?"
Jorah thought for a moment, then raised his hand and pointed to his chest: "No one of importance. Am I considered important as a mere knight?"
Sansa shook her head. The Three-eyed Raven wouldn't send Geralt personally just for Jorah.
Lyra stepped out of the ship circle: "The Bear Island fleet has many women, and we live in places with mostly women. I think I saw someone there."
"Who?" Sansa quickly asked.
"She had golden hair, unlike any of us Northerners. She was short, very pale, and dressed like you—thin clothing. She must be a mage."
"Is it the missing Tyene?" Geralt guessed quietly, speaking to Sansa.
Sansa waved her hand to stop Geralt and looked toward the inner circle of ships, her hands weaving a spell as she began to probe: "Is she inside?"
Lyra replied, "The tower where the women stayed collapsed. Many of them didn't manage to escape."