(Male protagonist's perspective)
After Lord Stark returned to Winterfell, life slowly returned to its usual rhythm. The once small and fragile Direwolf cubs had grown considerably. They were now larger than ordinary wolves, their strong bodies hinting at their potential. However, despite their growth, they had not yet reached maturity.
That day, with the Stark brothers Jon and Robb and their loyal Direwolf companions, I found myself drawn to the Godswood. It was a place of quiet contemplation, where ancient weirwood stood like sentinels of time. My curiosity compelled me to explore the deeper mysteries of this sacred forest.
In the past, when I tried to communicate with the ancient fir tree, I could only obtain some alluring cues, as elusive as whispers in the wind. I long to uncover these secrets and establish a connection with this ancient tree and the network of knowledge it contains.
I gently reached out and stroked the weathered, towering bark of the fir tree. Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the energy flow between us, allowing my consciousness to merge with the life essence of the tree itself.
I focused my attention, delving deeper into the consciousness of the weirwood. This time, the sensation was clearer, like shadows moving in the depths of my mind. Within the intricate network of roots slumbered many consciousnesses, each a treasure trove of ancient memories and wisdom. Yet, they remained elusive, like whispers, impossible for me to grasp.
Frustration weighed on my resolve, but I refused to give in. Instead, I turned my attention to the fir trees themselves. Before, my connections only extended to the Wolfswood, but now I found myself reaching almost every weirwood south of the Wall.
However, a peculiar obstacle hindered my progress. It was as if an invisible barrier, both material and spiritual, had been erected at the roots of the weirwood network. Despite my unwavering determination, I was unable to overcome this mysterious obstacle.
A few days turned into a week, and I persevered, even spending night after night under the starlit canopy. Each attempt to break through this mysterious barrier ended in failure, forcing me to ponder its purpose and origin. It was an unyielding wall, refusing to let me pass.
As I relentlessly breached the strange barriers within the weirwood network, curious onlookers would occasionally approach this ancient tree in the Godswood. Their gazes held a mixture of awe and reverence, for they recognized me—a hero, a warrior of the Old Gods. These encounters only intensified my sense of mission, for I knew that in the eyes of others, I was the defender of the Old Way.
I was determined to push my abilities to the limit. In my Druid form, I performed a ritual that enhanced my power, raising my level to near rank 6. The gap between rank 4 and 5 is subtle, and this ritual indicated that the gap between rank 5 and rank 6 wasn't significant either. However, it also clearly demonstrated that the leap from rank 6 to rank 7 would be enormous. The empowering circle I created granted my power an hour of enhancement, but the ritual's effects diminished once I exceeded its limits.
That very night, exhausted from breaking down this elusive barrier, I fell into a deep sleep beneath a towering fir tree. In my dream, the Wall beckoned to me. It was a mysterious allure, leading me to an unknown shore. Like an eagle, I soared northward, with an endless snowscape beneath my feet. The icy forests, towering peaks, and vast ice fields swept past my claws, yet I still could not perceive or touch the fir trees that adorned this desolate ice field.
In this surreal, dreamlike journey, I ventured through a raging blizzard, but strangely, the biting wind seemed to have no effect on me. I felt like an observer in a fantasy film, completely detached from the surrounding chilling winds. As I continued on my way, the relentless blizzard began to give way to a paradise-like landscape.
I have never seen such ethereal aurora borealis, dancing gracefully in the snow-covered sky. It did not glitter in the night sky, but rather shimmered with enchanting light between me and a crystal-clear mountain peak in front of me. The layers of aurora seemed to gently fall to the ground, forming a breathtaking curtain of light.
I cautiously approached the astonishing wall of light, but I still managed to see what was behind it. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was made of pure ice. The entire mountain resembled a breathtaking ice sculpture, shimmering with an otherworldly radiance.
I couldn't resist the powerful attraction and reached out my claws to touch the shimmering light barrier. To my surprise, my claws passed right through it. I made up my mind to cross the wall of light, feeling an inexplicable calling with every flap of my wings.
Inside the iceberg, my eyes lit up. I transformed back into human form, surrounded by swirling snowflakes whipped up by a fierce wind. Despite the frigid environment, I was completely unaffected by the cold, as if I were shielded from it by an invisible protective shield.
An irresistible urge surged within me, compelling me to reach out and touch the dazzling light bathing the ice cave. My hand reached for the intense light, but just as I was about to touch it, an invisible force grabbed my collar and suddenly pulled me back.
I struggled within this invisible barrier, desperately trying to re-enter the wall of light. However, it had solidified into a translucent, indestructible barrier, as unyielding as steel, preventing me from passing through.
I turned away from the impenetrable barrier of light, turning my attention to the eerie, terrifying army standing guard beside it. As I approached, my heart sank, and a chill ran down my spine as I realized they were not living beings, but an army of the undead.
The mutilated, rotting corpses, grotesquely shaped, stood in a grim and terrifying line, their lifeless eyes staring unblinkingly at the unyielding ice wall. Instinctively, I tried to summon my magic—a conditioned reflex honed through years of practice—but to my deepest frustration, my incantation failed to materialize. It was as if the arcane threads that once flowed effortlessly from my body had been severed.
In my growing panic, I transformed into an eagle, hoping my avian form would give me some advantage. I soared into the sky, circling the monsters below, but they remained motionless. Faced with my presence, not one of these terrifying masters flinched.
Driven by a morbid curiosity and an urgent thirst for knowledge, I swooped down and aimed my claws at the head of one of the corpses. My claws touched it, tearing through the rotting flesh, but the Abomination showed no signs of life. It remained motionless, like an empty shell.
As I continued flying over the undead legion, an invisible force gripped my legs, like the relentless grip of death itself. Despite my frantic attempts to flap my wings and break free, I was irresistibly pulled downwards, drawn to the treacherous gathering place below.
In that eerie and terrifying moment, suspended between life and death, I saw a figure that was both captivating and otherworldly. His skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow, radiating a deadly beauty that sent chills down my spine. He raised his hand to me, with a malevolent majesty, commanding my attention. He rode a resurrected steed, clad in armor as black as the night, and held a menacing ice spear in his other hand. His presence was ethereal, a stark contrast to the strange yet ordinary faces around him.
Although the men behind him bore some resemblance to their leader, they lacked his chilling allure and incredible charm. Instead, they appeared ordinary, almost repulsive. There was no doubt that the man before me was the Night's King himself.
When his icy hands gripped my claws tightly, I experienced unprecedented pain. His cold hands touched my flesh as if they were burning. A scream of agony escaped my throat, and in response, he demanded in a shrill, piercing voice that revealed my identity, a voice that seemed to cut to the bone.
"Who are you?"
Paralyzed, I couldn't answer. Instead, the pain in my ankle intensified, causing me to cry out in agony once more. He asked again in a shrill voice:
"Who are you?"
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and an old voice interrupted, "You shouldn't be here," he warned.
The Night's King scoffed, speaking with a hint of contempt to the unseen figure.
" Crow, you've gotten old, and your courage has grown. You're about to die, yet you dare stand before me?"
He ignored the Night's King and spoke with a tone full of wisdom and resolve, "Go, and don't come back. You're not ready."
I only saw a humanoid Fog. With a powerful gesture, the old man pulled me from the Night's King's cold clutches. I felt as if I were speeding across the vast North, the scenery flashing by. When I finally regained consciousness, I found myself back in the familiar embrace of the Godswood, my screams echoing in the silent temple.
On my left ankle is a blue mark, an evil handprint that sends chills down my spine, a reminder of my encounter in that other world. It's all real; the Night's King is real. He surges with dark magic, and a sinister curse tries to take root within me. Despair washes over me, and I struggle against its erosion.
I urgently summoned the Sith, issuing the command, my voice tense and trembling.
" Sith, quickly bring me a sheep, but don't harm it! Time is of the essence."
-Yes, Master! I'll go right away.-
With all my might, I hurled a massive stone tablet from the earth. In the dim light of the Godswood, its imposing presence cast a sinister shadow. My trembling hands worked frantically, painstakingly carving intricate runes onto the tablet's surface, while simultaneously etching sacred energy circles onto both the tablet and the forest floor. The oppressive feeling of the cursed mark assailed me, a relentless force attempting to penetrate my very soul.
Just as I struggled against the evil influence, my loyal companion Sith appeared, gently biting a sheep whose terrified eyes reflected its impending fate. The situation was urgent, and there was no time to lose. My first instinct was to summon the Wildfire Spirit, an elemental force that dances with flames. I focused intently on casting Searing Flame, intended to cleanse the corrosive magic. However, the effect was disappointingly weak; the curse couldn't even withstand the fire's purification.
Without hesitation, I took the life of the trembling sheep, its existence reduced to ashes. The sacrifice became the conduit for my next spell, "( Life Burst )," which manifested as a dazzling beam of light. Divine power crackled around me, bathing the sacred forest in its holy radiance.
But the curse remained stubbornly persistent, its malice unwavering. Although the combination of holy light and the powerful flames of the Wildfire Spirit made significant progress, the dark tendrils of the curse persisted. I was filled with frustration as I struggled against forces I could not comprehend.
To subdue the curse, I took a desperate gamble, refocusing my energy on the stone tablet. No longer content with a wide area of influence, I channeled my magic towards a single, concentrated target. The 20-meter radius around me began to shrink, and with each shrinkage, the intensity of the divine light multiplied.
At the center of that blinding beam of light, the curse was isolated, and its control was weakened. However, as time passed, my power was clearly diminishing. I could not completely dispel the malice that was trying to take me away. Instead, all I could do was seal it away, confining it within the mark's range.
Exhausted, I collapsed on the forest floor, my consciousness fading away like the morning mist. The mark remained sealed, but it was only a minor victory; its insidious presence still haunted my thoughts.