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In mere moments, the thin sheet had encased the entire body of the direwolf. But there was still no change. Melisandre remained in a state of confusion and perplexity. She was not able to make sense of anything.
Jon still did not move his hands. As if this were not enough, Melisandre caught a blur from the corner of her eye. She craned her neck to find Ghost leaping towards Jon. Before she could even think about stopping the cub, he had found his way and snuggled his body beneath Jon's spare hand. In the next instant, a layer of frost began to emerge from this hand as well, as if to engulf the body of Ghost.
"What the hell?" Melisandre mumbled to herself.
Jon unknowingly and unintentionally freezing the mother direwolf while she was unconscious was one thing. But for Ghost to willingly get engulfed in a layer of ice? This made even less sense. She was totally confused, and extremely curious. She wondered where this was going. What was even happening?
Meanwhile, Jon, still lost in his trance, felt another warging connection settle in his mind. It was Ghost. He could see and feel things from the perspective of this newborn wolf. And Ghost was nudging him towards something, asking Jon to move in a particular direction.
No. It was not exactly Ghost who was nudging Jon. It was the call of the bloodline, the lineage of the direwolf. And what exactly was this bloodline demanding him to do? To increase the ice magic surrounding the two direwolves.
Jon followed the direction as was demanded of him. The ice emerging from his hands increased abruptly. The thin layer of ice engulfing the two direwolves began to thicken. In no time, it thickened so much that Jon's hands were sunken in ice halfway to his elbows.
Melisandre had finally started to get worried. When it had been merely a thin sheet of ice, she had not been very anxious. But an ice layer centimetres deep? This made her deeply worried. The debate in her mind about pulling Jon away reignited, and she was about to take action when she noticed a change.
The casing of ice engulfing the direwolves began to tremble and quaver. In no time, a small whirlpool of rotating ice formed near the heads of both direwolves. To the utter surprise of Melisandre, the whirlpool began to suck in the ice.
She took a moment to realize that it was not the whirlpool sucking in the ice, but the direwolves themselves. The ice engulfing both direwolves began to decrease, and Jon began to pump even more ice magic onto their bodies.
This continued for a few moments before everything subsided. Every bit of ice vanished from the bodies of the direwolves. Jon's eyes snapped open, and he slumped onto the ground.
An expression of sheer exhaustion was plastered on his face. He was tired and drained, but hidden within this exhaustion was a sense of bliss. A small smile of happiness and excitement was mixed in it.
"Lord Aeos," Melisandre called, rushing towards him. "What was this? What just happened?"
She was about to bend down to support him, but Jon raised his hand to stop her.
"Fate," Jon mumbled. "Power of bloodline. Of the First Men and their companion direwolves."
Melisandre turned towards the two direwolves. Both of them were still lying on the ground with their eyes closed. But she noticed something. The wound on the mother direwolf appeared different. She closed in to look at it more closely. The wound had not reduced or vanished, but it had dried.
It looked as if it had undergone a healing process. She leaned in and rubbed her hand across the wound to feel it. She stood up and looked towards Jon.
"She has healed?" She questioned.
"Yes," Jon replied. "And much more."
"What?" She questioned.
Before Jon could answer, the mother direwolf opened her eyes. She was still not able to move her body, but somehow she dragged and tilted herself and looked towards Jon in an almost reverent way.
"She still needs time to recover," Jon remarked, not answering her question. "Probably a few days."
Meanwhile, Ghost too had opened his eyes. He shuddered, shaking any remnants of ice from his body before jumping towards Jon. Ghost was excited. He was jumping and bouncing and circling around him.
"Ghost," Jon said, rising from his slumped position. "Show her."
The bouncing, excited, and chaotic Ghost came to a sudden halt and stood facing Melisandre, as if he were almost ready to pounce on her. She raised her eyebrow, wondering what was about to happen.
Ghost raised his front legs and opened his maw. A small torrent of ice and snow emerged from it, targeting Melisandre directly. Though shocked and stunned, Melisandre sidestepped, letting the ice wave pass harmlessly by her. But her eyes were wide with unadulterated shock. She could not believe what she had just seen.
Ghost placed his legs down and looked at her. Though it was hard to read the expression of a wolf, she could tell that Ghost was smug. Maybe a bit arrogant and even prideful.
It took her a couple of moments to regain her composure and process what had happened. To convince herself that whatever had happened was real, she turned towards Jon. He was sitting there with a smug expression on his face.
"What just happened?" She questioned. "A direwolf spitting an ice wave? What was that?"
Jon burst out laughing.
"Lineage," he replied. "As the dragonlords of Valyria had fire-spitting dragons as their companions, the Starks of old had ice-spitting direwolves as their companions."
"It is just that so much time has passed since the last magical Stark and direwolf walked on this soil that even legends seem to have forgotten about such things," he said. "But not now."
Melisandre could only stare at him in an awe-struck manner.
"Does this mean you can turn any direwolf into an ice-spitting magical direwolf?" She questioned after a moment of silence.
If he could, he could have an army. Powerful than an army.
"No," Jon replied with a shake of his head. "Though there are a lot of direwolves in this world, not every one has the ability to be magical. Their lineage is not magical. You can say that Ghost and his mother belong to royalty. A magical lineage."
"And his siblings too?" She questioned.
"Most likely," he responded. "Though there is a chance that their bloodline might not be as strong as hers and his."
"But if they do, can you turn them into magical direwolves?" She questioned.
"Yes," he nodded. "If they are magical direwolves, then their ice magic is in a dormant state. By infusing a huge amount of my ice, I activated that dormant power."
"When that magic activated in the mother direwolf, her body also underwent a change. Coupled with her magic and her improved body, she was able to get out of her critical phase and survive."
Melisandre nodded her head in understanding. Though she still had a lot of questions in her mind, she decided to save them for later.
"What do we do now?" She questioned.
"We will return to Winterfell," he responded.
"And what of her?" She questioned, pointing towards the mother direwolf, who was still looking in their direction.
"We will bring her to Winterfell," he replied.
"I am not sure that is a good idea," she remarked.
Jon smiled but did not say anything about it.
"Let us build a ride for her," he said. "And she needs a name. Suggest something."
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