ASOIAF/GOT: The King On The Wall

The ice sword struck the human, but it didn't produce the smooth sensation of slicing through flesh as expected. Instead, with a sharp crack, it shattered into countless fragments. At the same time, the White Walker felt something warm in its lower chest. A small, burning-hot object pierced through its ice armor and embedded itself in its abdomen, where it radiated an unbearable heat, like fire consuming its very soul.

What's happening?

Even against the finest steel in the world, there shouldn't have been so much as a crack. And as for whatever had pierced its body… A creature born in the land of eternal winter, sustained by endless magic, shouldn't feel pain. Boiling lava wouldn't even scald its flesh—unless...

The magic holding its form together began to unravel, scattering like dust in the wind. The White Walker could no longer think. It dropped the remains of its ice sword, clutching at its abdomen in a futile attempt to stop the magic leaking from the wound. Frosty blue blood sprayed from the gash, hissing as it met the air and pooling around the obsidian dagger lodged in its flesh. It reached for the blade with skeletal, pale hands, but the moment its fingers touched the obsidian, smoke curled from its fingertips, and its flesh began to dissolve. Unable to remove the weapon or stop the destruction, the White Walker let out an agonized, furious scream before falling to its knees, motionless.

Aegor collapsed into the snow, his body trembling as he stared blankly at the shrinking remains of the White Walker. The first to disintegrate was the armor, a strange material now crumbling to dust. Then the pale flesh underneath began to rot and dissolve, turning sticky and grotesque, like a snowman melting in the sun. Within seconds, all that remained was a milky, glass-like skeleton, clear and polished as carved crystal. It shimmered faintly, but even this evidence of the creature's existence slowly melted, leaving nothing behind but the obsidian dagger.

The dagger lay in the snow, encased in frost, its surface so cold that the surrounding air condensed into vapor. Aegor watched as the dark blade turned pure white, blending almost seamlessly with the snow around it. It would be nearly invisible to anyone who wasn't looking closely.

It wasn't until half a minute later that Aegor realized, to his shock, that he was still alive.

His sword hand throbbed painfully, his fingers numb and bleeding from cracked knuckles. The sheer force of the White Walker's blow had been overwhelming; even if his steel sword hadn't shattered, his grip would never have held. Tentatively, he touched his shoulder with his other hand, feeling where the icy blade had struck. The fur of his coat was sliced clean through, but the clothing beneath was intact. There was no gaping wound, no blood.

His thoughts swirled in confusion before relief crashed over him like a wave. He was alive.

In the moment of that desperate, final clash, he'd expected to die alongside the White Walker. By all accounts, the icy sword and his obsidian dagger should have struck at the same time. Given the force behind the White Walker's blow, it should have cleaved his entire upper body apart. But somehow, somehow, his dagger had found its mark a fraction of a second earlier, maybe just a hair's breadth faster.

That tiny lead was the difference between life and death. The moment the obsidian pierced the White Walker, its magic failed. Its sword was no longer a weapon of supernatural power; it was nothing more than brittle ice. When it struck Aegor, it shattered into pieces, like a frozen puddle underfoot.

Had he been just a moment slower, he'd be dead, cut clean in two. If the White Walker had noticed the dagger and fought more cautiously, Aegor wouldn't have stood a chance. But none of that mattered now. He'd won. By sheer luck, coincidence, and his enemy's overconfidence, he'd survived.

The realization of how close he'd come to death finally sank in. Aegor shuddered uncontrollably, fear spreading through his chest like ice water. His legs felt weak and twitching, and for a moment, he feared he wouldn't be able to stand. If he hadn't emptied his bowels earlier, he suspected he would've pissed himself right there.

A faint groan broke the silence.

Aegor froze, then twisted to look. Gary, his fallen comradewas moving. Another faint, guttural sound followed. Aegor's heart leapt in surprise, and he crawled forward to retrieve the frost-covered obsidian dagger, along with the half-shattered steel sword. These would be enough to deal with any more wights that might still linger.

"Gary," he called out cautiously. The question on the tip of his tongue—Are you dead? sounded absurd, so he rephrased: "Are you still alive?"

Another faint groan came from the older man. Aegor couldn't make out the words, but there was enough sound and effort behind them to give him hope. He let out a long, shaky breath and sank back into the snow.

Now that the immediate danger had passed, his mind began to clear. He remembered the lore: when Jon Snow had killed a White Walker, all the wights it had raised instantly collapsed into lifeless corpses. If the same rule applied here, then this White Walker's victims wouldn't rise again.

Aegor turned his head and saw confirmation of his theory: the wight horse that the White Walker had ridden was now nothing more than a lifeless carcass sprawled in the snow. Its collapse must have happened at the exact moment the dagger struck its master, though Egg had been too preoccupied with survival to notice.

Summoning what little strength he had left, Aegor forced himself to his feet. His instincts told him there wouldn't be any more White Walkers nearby, but he knew better than to trust instinct alone. He needed to get out of here fast. With the broken sword in one hand and the obsidian dagger in the other, he carefully approached Gary.

Gary's face was pale, his lips tinged blue from the cold, but his eyes were open, and there was still life in them.

"C-Cold…" Gary's voice was faint and broken.

Aegor scanned the area quickly. His own horse had bolted, but Gary's supplies had been left behind when they'd prepared to kill the animal earlier. Blankets, clothing, and other gear were scattered nearby. Moving quickly, Aegor pieced together a makeshift bed to keep the man warm.

After examining Gary's wound, Aegor was relieved to find it wasn't as dire as he'd feared. The White Walker's sword had cut deep, but the blow had missed any vital organs. The wound itself was small, and the freezing cold had slowed the bleeding, causing the blood to coagulate into thick clumps. However, the frostbite spreading from the wound was another problem entirely. The freezing magic that lingered on the White Walker's weapon had preserved Gary's life for now, but it would make recovery far more difficult.

Aegor glanced up at the distant silhouette of the Wall. Its gray-blue outline loomed faintly on the horizon.