Chapter 240

One by one, the wildling tribes gathered inside the wooden barricade at the Wall's gate. After surrendering their weapons, they queued to enter the tunnel. Truth be told, the scene bore an eerie resemblance to prisoners lining up outside a gas chamber in a concentration camp—it gave an unsettling sense that once inside, there would be no return. Coupled with the strict terms requiring disarmament and surrendering supplies, some of the 30,000 wildlings hesitated despite Mance Rayder’s assurances. Only after representatives from the Free Folk who had already crossed returned to testify did they reluctantly continue.

The procedures and the presence of giants greatly slowed the process. Even a larger tribe required two to three hours to pass through the tunnel, meaning only a few thousand wildlings could cross the Wall each day. Furthermore, the mammoths owned by the giants were too large to fit through Castle Black’s tunnel. As a result, the Night’s Watch redirected some wildlings and their giants to Eastwatch by the Sea, easing the pressure on Castle Black.

Transforming the Free Folk into "New Gifted Residents" through this process was monotonous yet unpredictable. The peculiarities of the wildlings ensured that even repetitive tasks never lacked surprises. After several days, the majority of the wildlings had settled into the designated areas of the Gift, leaving fewer than 10,000 still outside the Wall.

The smooth progress, however, was destined not to last.
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As usual, the thousand soldiers stationed at Castle Black prepared for what was supposed to be another day of high alert with little actual action. The first group of wildlings entered Castle Black and began registration with the administrative staff. Suddenly, the sound of a horn echoed from the top of the Wall.

The Night’s Watch hadn’t sent anyone beyond the Wall recently, meaning that unless it was Benjen Stark’s long-lost party returning, the horn would not have sounded just once—it had to be followed by more.

Everyone in Castle Black froze. Resting soldiers stood up. Those leaning against walls snapped awake, and every combatant grabbed their weapons.

The horn sounded a second time.

“What’s going on?” Aegor had been in the meeting room discussing the integration of the new Gifted Residents with several Night’s Watch officers when the sound interrupted his thoughts.

Over 20,000 new settlers had already been moved to their allocated settlements, strictly forbidden from leaving their designated areas. Scouts patrolled everywhere around Castle Black, and Mance Rayder himself was a hostage within the keep. Even if the wildlings planned a rebellion, this timing made no sense.

Commander Mormont rose from his chair, decisively issuing orders: “Round up the wildlings already inside Castle Black. Secure the gates. We’re heading to the top of the Wall to find out what’s happening.”

The officers left the table to carry out the commands. In the courtyard, hundreds of wildlings and three giants, bewildered by the sudden change in atmosphere, looked around anxiously as the black-clad soldiers brandished weapons and grew visibly tense.

Judging by the wildlings’ behavior, it didn’t seem like an ambush had been pre-arranged. Before Aegor could breathe a sigh of relief, the horn sounded a third time.
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This wasn’t the first time the horn had blown three times for the Night’s Watch, but it was the first time Aegor had heard it himself. The eerie sound cut through the air like something from a nightmare, raising goosebumps on his skin.

White Walkers? But hadn’t Mance Rayder said they avoided approaching the Wall, keeping their distance?

Aegor’s mind raced. The Walkers “avoiding” the Wall didn’t mean they couldn’t approach it. Seeing their prey—the wildlings—nearly all escape through the Wall, the Others must have decided to act decisively.

They had chosen their moment well: striking when most of the wildlings had already crossed, leaving those outside with diminished numbers, morale, and vigilance. Intelligent and magical beings indeed—they knew when to strike.

Realizing the threat, Aegor turned to Mormont. “Commander, if chaos breaks out near the barricade and the White Walkers breach the gate, Castle Black could fall!”

“Take a team with dragonglass weapons and hold the gate!” Mormont barked, his voice firm. He then strode toward the lift. “Gather all wildlings inside Castle Black, escort them out, and order them not to move without permission!”

After shouting his commands, Mormont led the group into the lift, the bell ringing as it carried them to the top of the Wall.
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“What’s happening down there?” Mormont asked as they reached the Wall’s edge.

“The remaining wildlings have burst out of the forest and are rushing toward the barricade,” a sentry reported. “In the woods... something is chasing them.”

“Get two hundred men up here with oil barrels and fire arrows!” Mormont ordered.

Aegor leaned over the edge of the Wall. Below, the snowy isolation zone was scattered with hundreds of dark figures fleeing toward the barricade at the tunnel’s entrance. Some carried children, others hefted belongings, while a few herded sheep or rode sleds pulled by dogs. The fastest among them had already reached the gate.

From the forest, humanity’s ancient enemy emerged. Ghouls spilled out like molten tar, flowing over roots and rocks, surging toward the Wall.

From two hundred meters up, distinguishing between the living and the dead was difficult. Fortunately, it was daylight, albeit overcast. Aegor could tell the difference from the way they moved: the rearguard wildlings carried torches and weapons, constantly glancing over their shoulders. The pursuing ghouls, however, were unrelenting. They included not just humans but also bears, wolves, and shadowcats. There were no giant wights yet—likely due to their cumbersome size—but the most chilling detail was their relentless pursuit. Once close enough, they pounced on their prey, bringing them down and ending their lives with terrifying efficiency.

Though the rearguard wildlings managed to fight off some attackers with fire, the endless tide of wights pouring from the forest left them hopelessly outmatched. Terrified, the remaining wildlings abandoned all thoughts of fighting and threw themselves toward the Wall, desperate for safety.

“Order the gate at the barricade opened,” Mormont commanded, his face grim against the freezing wind. “But drop the portcullis at the tunnel entrance. We can’t risk Castle Black falling. Those down below will have to deal with the ghouls themselves—we’ll provide fire support from the Wall.”

Dropping the portcullis would trap thousands of wildlings and dozens of brothers of the Night’s Watch outside. Aegor opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. This wasn’t the time to play savior.

The orders were relayed swiftly. The barricade gate opened, and the wildlings surged in like a flood. The barricade, built to prevent wildling attacks during disarmament, had not been designed for mass movements. The narrow bridge over the trench quickly became congested, with some panicked wildlings pushed off the edge.

Seeing the gate open, the rearguard abandoned their positions and ran. The ghouls, now unopposed, swarmed toward the barricade, threatening to overrun it entirely.

As the last wildlings scrambled inside, Mormont gave the signal to attack.

From the Wall, the Night’s Watch unleashed a barrage of fire. Arrows lit with wildfire rained down, followed by oil barrels ignited and hurled with cranes. Fireballs erupted across the snow, halting the ghouls’ advance. Though some fleeing wildlings were caught in the flames, the decisive attack bought enough time for the barricade gate to close.

The ghouls, undeterred, swarmed the barricade from all sides, clambering over shallow trenches and spikes. The wooden structure trembled under their weight as the trapped wildlings pounded on the portcullis, screaming to be let through.

But their cries went unanswered. Though they had reached the Wall, safety remained just out of reach.