The Other sat astride a dead horse that moved with a grotesque, rhythmic limp. It was gaunt, its armor shifting in the moonlight like water caught in a storm, sometimes pure white as fresh snow, other times dark as the abyss. Its azure eyes burned with a cold, hateful light, fixed on Eddard Karstark.
Eddard felt the temperature in the clearing drop by ten degrees. Frost began to spiderweb across the steel of his pauldrons.
It sees us, Eddard thought. It sees the heat in our chests.
The creature didn't roar. It didn't scream. It moved with the fluid, impossible grace of a dancer, its long, thin sword of translucent ice raised in a silent challenge. It was a beautiful, terrible thing—a creature of frozen starlight and malice.
"Shields up!" Karas Snow roared, his voice cracking the silence.
The Winter Guard didn't retreat. They locked their shields, the obsidian studs on the oak surfaces gleaming in the dim light. They were Karstark men, tempered in the swamps of the Neck, the burning sands of Slaver's Bay, and the frozen gates of Black Castle. They knew the fear of the dead, but they feared their King's displeasure more.
The Other struck.
It moved faster than any man could follow, a white blur against the grey trees. Its blade met a shield of oak and iron with a sound like a crystal glass shattering—CRACK. The steel facing of the shield splintered, the iron edge shearing through as if it were parchment.
But the Winter Guard stood firm. A second ranger thrust a dragonglass spear into the gap, forcing the creature to recoil.
Eddard stepped forward, Heartbreaker humming in his hand. He didn't waste breath on speeches.
[Active Skill: Mana Armor cast.]
A shimmering, transparent dome of energy enveloped Eddard, and he quickly pulsed the spell to his two closest lieutenants, Karas and Dita.
The Other saw the threat. It turned, its blue eyes fixing on Eddard. It glided over the uneven snow, its blade sweeping in a graceful, lethal arc aimed at Eddard's throat.
Eddard didn't dodge. He stood still, the Mana Armor taking the blow. A shower of sparks sprayed outward, the crystalline sword bit into the shield of magical force, vibrating with a high-pitched whine that set teeth on edge.
"Too slow," Eddard whispered.
[Active Skill: Thunderbolt triggered.]
A point-blank blast of electric energy erupted from Eddard's palm. The Other was thrown backward, its chest plate dented and glowing a dull, angry red. It tumbled into the snow, its movements erratic.
Eddard lunged, Heartbreaker arcing through the air. The Valyrian steel, forged in the fires of ancient secrets, bit into the creature's shoulder. Unlike the wights, who crumbled to ash, the Other let out a sound like breaking ice, a high-pitched, wailing screech that echoed through the forest.
The creature shattered, exploding into a thousand glittering shards of ice.
"Forward!" Eddard commanded, not letting the moment pass. "Search the ridge! It was a scout, which means the altar is close!"
The Winter Guard moved with lethal efficiency, scouring the treeline. Within minutes, Leaf, the Child of the Forest, returned from the shadows. She looked at the pile of shimmering ice where the Other had stood, her large, golden eyes wide with a mixture of reverence and fear.
"You... you have broken a White Walker," she whispered, her voice like the rustle of leaves. "The legends say only the dragonglass can pierce their skin, yet you... you command the lightning of the storm itself."
"I command what I need to survive, Leaf," Eddard said, wiping the frost from his visor. "How close are we?"
"The altar is beyond that ridge," she pointed to a looming, obsidian-black hill. "But be warned—the ritual is in its final phase. If the horn is restored, the Wall will be nothing but a memory."
Eddard looked at his men. They were shivering, their breath coming in ragged, white plumes. He activated the System interface, checking the Soul Power reserves.
[System Notification: Battle Report: White Walker Scout eliminated.][Status: Expeditionary Force (100 units) advancing on Ritual Site.]
"We move," Eddard said. "Silent as ghosts. If we are spotted, we don't fight, we strike. I want that altar leveled before the moon reaches its zenith."
They melted into the forest, leaving the shattered ice of the Other behind them. The hunt for the source of winter had truly entered its final act.
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.