Chapter 243

​"Chiu—"

The sound should have been crisp and sharp, yet it was so piercingly loud that it made everyone’s ears ache. Melisandre let out a muffled groan, lost her balance, and fell backward onto the filthy, ice-covered ground.

Aegor broke into a cold sweat. He hadn’t even seen the trajectory of the incoming projectile—only a brief glimmer of light in his peripheral vision had triggered deeply buried instincts, an immediate response born of past danger. He understood the situation all too well: if the enemy was targeting anyone here, then he and Melisandre were the most likely candidates. He bore the mark of the Great Other from having slain a White Walker before, and she, a follower of R’hllor wielding fire magic, was a clear threat to the creatures of ice.

His push had not only saved the Red Woman but also used the force to propel himself out of harm’s way.

And sure enough, something flew past.

A grayish-white blur, small yet eerily fast, streaked through the space where Melisandre had just been standing. It hurtled across nearly a league’s distance before vanishing into the ashen sky beyond the Wall, its keening whistle lingering in the air.

Had Aegor not acted, the Red Woman would have been impaled on the spot.

----

The Wall was so high that few ranged weapons could reach its summit. This led the Night’s Watch to feel secure, standing there without fear. The surrounding officers had only seen Aegor suddenly shove Melisandre down. It was only after the deafening shriek rang through the air, and its echo faded, that the others finally reacted.

"What was that?" Jeor Mormont muttered, momentarily questioning his own eyesight. He turned, scanning the horizon, but whatever had flown past was long gone.

"A White Walker’s weapon," Aegor said grimly. "I nearly died to one of these before."

An ice sword? An ice spear? Or just a stone? Aegor wasn’t sure—he hadn’t seen it clearly. He took two cautious steps back, out of the exposed area, and knelt to help the Red Woman up.

"Lady Melisandre, are you unharmed?"

"Ugh... I am fine." Her voice was steady, but her face was pale, her left arm clutching at her side. Since meeting her, Aegor had never seen her look so… human. "The servants of the Great Other… I was foolish to think I could…"

Before she could finish, another deafening explosion rang out.

The Wall shuddered.

The ground beneath them cracked.

A section of the ice parapet, meant to prevent sentries from falling, crumbled—an entire yard-wide segment collapsing, sending jagged shards cascading down. The force sent nearby men stumbling back, their faces drained of color.

A second projectile had struck.

The Walkers had changed their tactics. This time, instead of targeting Melisandre directly, they had aimed to punch through the ice itself, trying to take her out from another angle. But the Wall was stronger than they had anticipated, and their attack failed to break through.

This place was no longer safe.

"Lady, you must leave the Wall’s summit. The Walkers can sense you!" Aegor barked.

Dazed and in pain, Melisandre did not argue. She simply nodded, allowing the soldiers to escort her toward the lift. The iron gate clanged open, and she descended toward the ground below.

Aegor’s mind raced.

Two years ago, when he had slain a White Walker, its thrown ice blade had embedded itself just half a meter into a tree. But this… whatever the Walkers were using now had shattered over a meter of solid ice.

Was it a stronger Walker?

Or had all of them grown more powerful over time?

The second strike had rattled every man atop the Wall. Mercifully, a third attack did not come. It seemed that even for the White Walkers, such long-range assaults were no easy feat.

Then, a panicked shout rang out:

"Lord Commander! The fire below… it’s going out!"

----

Despite the risk of another strike, Jeor Mormont rushed to the Wall’s edge, peering downward. Aegor followed his gaze.

The massive wall of flames—the only thing holding back the undead—had diminished to a feeble flicker.

The oil, wildfire, and pitch had burned out.

What had moments ago been a roaring inferno was now nothing but a bed of smoldering embers. The remaining wood—the wooden barricades, the makeshift palisades—had only flared so brightly because of the fire magic enhancing them. But now that Melisandre was gone, her spell had broken, and the flames were dying.

The fire had held back the dead. Without it…

The tide of wights pressed forward once more.

Two massive undead giants trudged through the snow, their rotting forms looming over the battlefield. They had reached the no-man’s-land between the Haunted Forest and the Wall. If either of them managed to wedge itself into the tunnel before the gate closed, it would be disastrous.

The dead were mindless and easy to kill. But these wights were countless, and inside Castle Black, there were still too many living—wildlings, men, women, and children. If the wights got inside during this chaos, there would be no stopping them.

The Watch’s scorpions had been moved off the Wall to prevent a riot among the wildlings. Now, there was nothing left to fight back against the giants.

Mormont clenched his fists. The White Walkers were not mindless. They had a strategy. They had planned this. And he had no choice but to make a terrible decision.

"Sound the horn! Close the gate!"

"Has Jaime Lannister made it inside?"

"I don’t think so, my lord—there are still a few black brothers down there!"

Mormont gritted his teeth. "We’re out of time. Blow the horn! Close the damn gate!"

Aegor stomped his foot in frustration but knew there was no room for argument. He turned to the other black brothers.

"The small basket—where’s the one we used to bring Mance inside for the parley?"

"In the corner!"

"Lower it!"

----

The iron portcullis slammed down.

A wildling, the last to squeeze through, barely escaped being crushed.

A woman clutching her child saw the closing gate and knew she had no hope of getting through. With one final act of desperation, she hurled her infant through the gap. The child soared past the bars just before the gate crashed shut.

Satisfied, she turned back toward the wight horde, picked up a discarded torch, and faced them with a calm expression.

The gate’s fall was a death sentence for everyone still outside.

The oil and fire arrows could no longer hold back the pale tide. The wights swarmed over the last of the living, their black-cloaked figures vanishing in the sea of undead.

----

Jaime Lannister’s sword was not what it once was. The fine steel blade he had brought from Casterly Rock was now chipped and dulled.

But in his hands, it still cut.

The Kingslayer spun like a whirlwind, severing limb after limb. He had faced men in battle before, but these… things…

There was no end to them.

Oddly, he felt at peace.

It seemed he would meet a worthy death after all. The only regret was that he hadn’t even seen one of the legendary White Walkers before dying to their foot soldiers.

Then, a shadow loomed overhead.

A small basket, just large enough for one person, swung wildly in the wind. Unlike the main lift, it had no rails to stabilize it, twisting and rocking dangerously.

Jaime hesitated for only a second.

Then, with one final slash, he cut down a wight, leapt, and grabbed hold of the thick rope suspending the basket.