Chapter 445

“Damn it, missed!” Theon Greyjoy cursed, yanking another dragonglass-tipped Lightbringer arrow from his quiver and nocking it onto his bowstring. “How the hell is it agile enough to dodge an arrow in the dark? How are we supposed to deal with this thing?”

(Can’t stop bragging, can you?) Ygritte rolled her eyes, a derisive sneer flashing across her face. If it weren’t for Theon being Jon Snow’s foster brother and actually somewhat skilled, she would’ve long since mocked him outright. His loud exclamations were clearly meant to ensure everyone knew his shot wasn’t off-target but had been evaded by the enemy.

“If it can dodge, shoot the dragon first! Didn’t you see its eyes just opened? It’s already turning into one of those things!”

Ignoring Theon’s antics, Ygritte silently nocked her own arrow, aimed with steady resolve, and released her shot without a word.

Knowing she lacked the precision and equipment of her peers, Ygritte didn’t bother aiming for the elusive Other. Instead, she targeted the largest part of the reanimated dragon’s body—the massive shoulder. The expertly crafted Lightbringer arrow streaked through the air, piercing deep into Viserion’s shoulder blade. As the arrow’s vibrations subsided, the undead dragon’s twitching body collapsed entirely, its movements ceasing for good.

Those two arrows eliminated the threat of a wight dragon but enraged the Other standing beside it. It turned toward them, emitting an eerie, guttural shriek in a language no one understood. At its command, the surrounding wights immediately shifted direction, surging toward the archers.
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While most of the Gift army charged to assist the two living dragons, a smaller detachment from Castle Black, led by Jon Snow, had been dispatched to deal with Viserion’s remains. To ensure nothing was left to chance, Aegor had handpicked a team that included Jeremy Lake and two other Castle Black rangers, Theon Greyjoy, Ygritte, and Beric Dondarrion, along with six of the top ten archers from the recent Lightbringer competition—armed with nearly half of the thirty remaining dragonglass Lightbringer arrows.

A force like this was overkill, but they weren’t taking any risks. Preventing the birth of an undead dragon was paramount.

“Form up! Prepare for battle!” Jon Snow commanded, his voice carrying authority.

The squad numbered fewer than a hundred men, all seasoned rangers from Castle Black. They weren’t just soldiers but elite fighters with superior combat skills and discipline. Armed with specialized anti-undead equipment, they remained composed even when outnumbered three to one.

Thoros of Myr drew his sword, igniting it with wildfire to transform it into the iconic flaming weapon. Around him, the black-clad rangers readied dragonglass bombs and other weapons. The battle commenced near the edge of the main battlefield, an intense skirmish amidst the greater war.
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The six archers coordinated their attack, loosing arrows at the Other attempting to revive Viserion. However, the pale figure was unnervingly agile, dodging all six projectiles. It crouched low, snatched something from the ground, and prepared to counterattack.

“Damn it, I’m down to my last arrow,” Theon muttered, frustrated. Despite being the archery contest’s runner-up, he had failed to hit anything during the Hardhome defense due to the chaos and was desperate to make up for it. His eagerness had led him to fire prematurely, wasting two arrows. Now, he was in a tight spot.

The other archers, most of whom had only been allotted two arrows each, rolled their eyes at his grumbling and ignored him as they discussed their next move.

“Screw it, clear out the wights first and close the distance! We’ll figure it out from there!” Jon barked, unsheathing Longclaw and signaling his men to advance.

The retaliation came swiftly. A sharp whistle cut through the air, and Theon, who had just stowed his last Lightbringer arrow and switched to a dragonglass-tipped one, was struck by a heavy blow. The impact sent him sprawling into the snow.

“Theon!” Jon rushed to his foster brother’s side, cradling him. A gaping, bowl-sized dent in Theon’s chest plate oozed blood, and his shallow breaths faltered. In mere moments, their years of brotherhood were severed by death.

“Take cover! Watch out for enemy projectiles!” Jon shouted.

Before his warning could spread, another stone flew, shattering Jeremy Lake’s left arm. The limb dangled by scraps of flesh and armor, forcing the ranger out of the fight.

“Don’t stay still! Keep moving!” Ygritte yelled, her voice sharp. She had realized something—the first two to fall were the squad’s best archers. The Other seemed to be targeting them based on their initial attack. Her survival was likely due to her lower skill level.

“Blend into the group!” she instructed. Following her advice, the remaining archers abandoned their exposed positions, drew melee weapons, and joined the soldiers fighting the wights. The chaotic melee provided cover, making it harder for the Other to single them out.

Jon retrieved the Lightbringer arrows from Theon and Jeremy’s quivers, handing them to Ygritte before charging into the fray with Longclaw, cutting down wights with practiced precision.
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This was a small-scale but incredibly intense battle. With dragonglass bombs, wildfire, and Valyrian steel weapons at their disposal, the rangers were devastatingly effective. Their experience fighting the undead allowed them to achieve a casualty ratio far better than the Northern soldiers’, losing only twenty men while wiping out the two hundred wights protecting the Other.

The Other, however, proved a formidable foe. Even after losing its wight defenders, it continued its assault. Stones and frozen dirt flew through the air, striking soldiers down with brutal efficiency. Nearly ten men were killed or wounded by this lone figure. The rangers resorted to weaving in serpentine patterns as they closed the distance, their only hope to stay alive.

This new Other, possibly a leader, exhibited extraordinary combat prowess. Even after a dragonglass bomb confirmed its ice armor was still intact, it remained unshaken.

“Surround it! Attack together!” Jon ordered. Dragonglass spears were thrust at the Other from all sides, but it drew an ice blade and shattered the first spear with a single stroke, injuring the wielder. Relying on its reinforced armor, it withstood the remaining attacks. Obsidian shattered against its icy shell as it dispatched soldiers with ease.

Jon called for a retreat and led the next charge with Longclaw. The Other, wary of the Valyrian steel blade’s glow, blocked his strike. With a sharp clang, cracks appeared on the ice sword. The Other hesitated, realizing Jon’s sword was not only stronger but imbued with destructive power.

The duel was intense, Jon’s arms aching with each clash, but he refused to yield. Around him, the rangers moved to disrupt the Other’s movements. Thoros lunged from behind, his flaming sword searing the Other’s back. The fire forced it to consume more magic to maintain its armor. Furious, the Other grabbed Thoros’s sword, extinguishing the flames and shattering the blade.

“Now!” Ygritte shouted. The remaining archers unleashed their arrows. The Other dodged three, but the fourth struck its thigh. The ice sword in its hand shattered as the creature froze in place.

Though the Lightbringer arrow wasn’t enough to destroy it outright—it was a lower-quality replica—it left the Other vulnerable. Jon seized the moment, lunging forward and cleaving the creature in two with a powerful swing of Longclaw, ending the battle.
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