Balerion roared furiously, and blazing, brilliant black-and-red fireballs burst against the earth, striking the clustered Wight Horde.
The intensity and concentration of a magic dragon's flames were even more terrifying than wildfire, and after magical enhancement, sheer abundance was their defining feature.
The knights outside the walls all saw it: amid the swirling snow, the magic dragons danced wildly.
A thousand outstretched black hands of the dead burned in the flames, and the Wights piled atop one another like ants outside the walls received a thorough scorching.
Wights were highly flammable. Once the dead faces caught fire, their hands would come apart on their own.
"Is this the Dragon King's power?"
"A god! A god." Behind them, the Glacier Tribe Wildlings driving dog-drawn chariots trembled. Before such immense power, human strength seemed insignificant.
"The king's power is even more terrifying than before." Strongboar stared incredulously at the sky. Previously, he had dealt with knights like Jaime.
He had never expected Westeros to have updated to the demigod stage now.
"Unrivaled power." The Hound curled his lip. "I heard you once considered challenging the king to a duel?"
Strongboar widened his eyes. "I'm only mortal. Only now do I understand that I'm just a mortal too."
High in the sky, Balerion roared, and the White Dragon soon followed him.
The Wight Horde, once surging ferociously like ocean waves, seemed to crumble.
This was the magic dragons' wild dance, their slaughter.
"Dragonfire!" The two magic dragons circled over Winterfell together, first giving the dead throughout the castle a thorough roasting.
The dragons' roars exploded throughout Winterfell like true thunderbolts.
Direwolves and horses alike trembled.
The magic dragons attacked with dragonfire, flame in its ultimate form.
Fireballs, fire spears, swirling dragonfire.
People could see brilliant fireballs bursting one after another, black-and-red and gold.