Burning the Bodies

They stared unblinkingly at the sky.

It was as though they were silently telling of some ancient horror.

Lynn's heart sank.

The buried memories of terror that belonged to the body's former owner surged through his mind once more.

That cold that seeped into the marrow.

That suffocating stillness of death.

That indescribable evil from ages past!

White Walkers!

No.

More precisely, these were wights, transformed from Wildlings killed by White Walkers.

The guards around him had clearly noticed something was wrong as well.

"My lord, these bodies... there's something strange about them."

A young guard spoke, his voice trembling slightly.

"Their eyes..."

"I've never seen eyes that frighteningly blue."

Another guard chimed in, instinctively tightening his grip on his sword.

Torrhen crouched down, intending to prod one of the bodies with his scabbard.

"Don't touch them!"

Lynn sharply stopped him.

Startled, Torrhen hastily pulled his hand back.

Everyone looked at Lynn in confusion.

Lynn's expression was graver than ever before.

He stared fixedly at the bodies.

"My lord, what's wrong?"

Torrhen asked cautiously.

Lynn did not answer.

He merely drew the longsword at his waist slowly.

"Everyone, fall back. Stay away from the bodies."

Though puzzled, the guards obeyed and retreated several paces, warily forming a ring around Lynn and the bodies.

Lynn took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

He knew these would-be wights were still only corpses for now.

But under the right conditions, they could "wake" at any moment.

And the only way to deal with them was fire.

"Torrhen."

Lynn's voice regained its composure.

"Bring torches."

"Burn this place down, along with every one of these bodies."

"Don't leave so much as a speck of ash."

Though full of questions, Torrhen immediately went to carry out the order.

Soon, dozens of torches were lit.

The blazing torches were thrown into the ruins.

The dry hides and wood caught fire instantly.

The flames spread at an astonishing speed.

As the flames devoured the charred bodies, they crackled and sent up billows of black smoke.

An indescribable stench spread through the air.

The guards covered their mouths and noses, disgust written across their faces.

Lynn did not move.

He simply stood there, watching the sea of fire in silence.

The dancing flames were reflected in his eyes.

Only when the bodies had been reduced entirely to ash did he slowly look away.

"My lord, what... what exactly were those things?"

Torrhen finally could not help asking.

Lynn fell silent for a moment.

He knew there were things he could no longer keep hidden.

Besides, these men were his most loyal followers. There was no harm in telling them.

"They're the things I told Lord Stark about at Winterfell."

Lynn's voice was low.

"Wights."

That single word plunged the entire valley into deathly silence.

Only the crackling of the flames remained.

The guards' faces were filled with shock and fear.

White Walkers?

Weren't those monsters found only in Old Nan's bedtime stories?

Weren't they creatures of legend, driven back to the Lands of Always Winter by the First Men during the Age of Heroes thousands of years ago?

How could... how could this be?

Had they returned?

"My lord, are... are you serious?"

A guard's voice shook uncontrollably.

"Do I look as though I'm joking?"

Lynn asked in return.

His gaze swept across every face.

"Something has awakened beyond the Wall."

"Winter is coming."

Spoken by Lynn, those words carried a chilling sense of inevitability.

The guards exchanged glances, all color draining from their faces.

They were all men of the North.

They understood the weight behind the words "winter is coming" better than any outsider.

It was more than a house motto.

It was a warning from ages past.

"What... what should we do now?"

There was a hint of bewilderment in Torrhen's voice.

"Head back first."

Lynn's answer was simple and firm.

"Send a scout to tell Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon everything we saw here, exactly as it happened."

Lynn looked north once more.

Within that endless darkness, countless pairs of ice-blue eyes seemed to be watching them.

At dawn the next day, the party set out on the road back to Castle Black.

The mood was oppressively grim.

No one spoke.

Every soldier wore the somber expression of a man who had narrowly escaped death.

The shadow of the White Walkers weighed on every heart, making it hard to breathe.

The party continued south.

Halfway through the journey.

The scout riding ahead to survey the road came galloping back again.

"My lord!"

There was a strange look on the scout's face.

"Up ahead... there's something up ahead."

"What now? Wildlings?" Torrhen immediately grew alert.

"No... not Wildlings."

The scout shook his head.

"It's a battlefield."

"A brutal one."

"But... it's strange."

Only when Lynn and the others arrived did they understand what the scout had meant by strange.

It was a stretch of snow stained red with blood.

Several dead warhorses lay on the ground, their entrails spilled everywhere.

Broken weapons and shattered armor lay scattered all around.

The air was thick with the smell of blood.

Clearly, a vicious battle had taken place here not long ago.

But the strange thing was this.

Across the entire battlefield, apart from the dead horses, there was not a single human body to be seen.

Only a few long drag marks remained in the snow, leading deep into the forest.