Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
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"They say that sorcery is a sword without a hilt and there is no safe way to grasp it. But sword without a hilt is still a sword, though, and a sword is a fine thing to have when foes are all about… Night falls and now my war begins."
Jon Snow/Aerion Sand
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Limgrave, Waypoint Ruins
Aerion/Jon
Jon sat attentively, absorbing every word and every instruction his new sorcery teacher was trying to impart. Frankly, the reading was fascinating, and his hunger for this knowledge grew with each passing moment.
When he arrived at this place, the last thing he expected was an incredibly beautiful woman with dark hair and sapphire eyes. He had thought he was about to encounter an ancient woman more reminiscent of Old Nan than one who looked only a few years older than himself.
Moreover, she had a gift for imparting knowledge, as her explanations seemed clear and lucid to Jon. In the perhaps two hours they spent together, he managed to learn not only the basics of Glintstone Sorcery under her tutelage, but also his first three spells: Glintstone Pebble, Glintstone Arc, and Scholar's Armament.
"Hmh. You are more brilliant than I thought, or perhaps your magical talent is even greater than you might think." Sellen said, a small, unreadable etched smile on her face.
"Learning a basic spell in such a short time is impressive, but both Glintstone Arc and Scholar's Armament require manipulation of the shape and density of sorcery. Thou undoubtedly have an intuitive grasp of magic."
Jon bowed, accepting the compliment. He couldn't express how good it was to hear something like that, something he had surely missed as a child.
He didn't even know how to respond to the praise, but before he could think of anything, Sellen beat him to it and added, "I'll have a favour to ask you later, my dear student, but we'll discuss that later. Now I have a gift for you... actually, two."
With that, she reached for one of the books on the table and held it out to Jon. "This book contains the basic spells of the Glintstone Sorcery school. In addition to the three spells I taught you, there are Crystal Barrage, Scholar's Shield, and Glintstone Stars. This way, you can continue learning while you travel."
Jon took the book in his hands, unsure of what to say for the second time in just a few minutes. Just two hours ago, the woman he'd never met before had shown him more kindness and care than most people he'd known in his entire life.
It was challenging for him to reconcile this woman with the one she had told him about, mentioning her own past. He couldn't see the ruthless, manipulative sorceress literally striving to reach her goal over corpses.
As he glanced at the spells in the book, the basic information about them, provided by his Great Rune, appeared before his eyes.
Glintstone Pebble
The most basic glintstone sorcery of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.
The glintstone serves as a conduit, launching magical projectiles at foes. This sorcery can be cast repeatedly and while in motion.
This is a universal first step on the journey to true knowledge of sorcery.
Glintstone Arc
One of the glintstone sorceries of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.
Fires a horizontal arc of magic that spreads outward. This sorcery can be cast repeatedly and while in motion.
Granted to sorcererers who depart from the academy to embark on journeys, in order to fend off large groups of would-be adversaries. Fools often roam in packs.
Crystal Barrage
One of the glintstone sorceries of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.
Fires a volley of glintstone crystal shards. Charging increases potency.
A sorcery of the Crystal Cadre, a group of sorcerers who pursue the wisdom of stone - the secrets locked in the faint cogitation of the Crystalians.
Scholar's Shield
One of the glintstone sorceries of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.
Enchants shield held in the left hand with additional damage negation. This sorcery can be cast while in motion.
Taught to the Knights of the Cuckoo by the academy as payment for their contract.
Scholar's Armament
One of the glintstone sorceries of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.
Enchants armaments held in the right hand with magic-affinity attacks. This sorcery can be cast while in motion.
Taught to the Knights of the Cuckoo by the academy as payment for their contract.
Glintstone Stars
One of the glintstone sorceries of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.
Fires three magic shooting stars that pursue the target. This sorcery can be cast while in motion. Charging enhances potency.
A sorcery of the Olivinus Conspectus, which attracts sorcerers from Sellia, Town of Sorcery.
He intended to make good use of them. "Thank you," he replied, his voice full of emotion. "I won't let you down, and the next time we meet, I'll be sure to learn the remaining spells... And if it's within my abilities, I'll help you with your request in any way I can."
"I'm sure of that, Aerion. However, I have a second gift that will be much more necessary for you," the woman replied, then stood and walked to the corner of the chamber where a staff, surrounded by scattered azure crystals, rested.
Carved from dark brown wood, it was topped with a turquoise oval glintstone shard. Sellen took it and then handed it to Jon, saying, "This is the Academy Glintstone Staff, which I received upon becoming a member of the Raya Lucaria Academy. It is given to fully recognised sorcerers. I give it to you, my lovely student."
Jon was speechless again, moved, and took the staff in his hands almost reverently. It was more than just a spellcasting tool. It was a symbol that he had been recognised and accepted by his mentor in the magical arts.
Academy Glintstone Staff
Staff of the Academy of Raya Lucaria, embedded with a turquoise glintstone.
Only a recognized sorcerer is permitted to wield this staff.
"I see potential in you, and I'm not the only one," Sellen spoke, suggestively glancing at his eye, where the Great Rune was embedded. "You need strength and cunning, but also luck. And sometimes luck can be helped, and if I can, I'll be the one to help."
"I don't know what to say, Master Sellen. You have no idea how much your help and your words mean to me. I only hope I won't disappoint the expectations you place in me."
Sellen smiled faintly and replied, "Enough, my dear student, or I'll cry. And then what? Let's go to the outer chamber where you felled my jailer. There you will test your new staff."
Jon jumped up with excitement, but before he'd taken more than two steps, something began to happen. For a moment, he felt dizzy, and then his vision blurred, even in his left eye. Suddenly, the world around him began to spin, and darkness enveloped him.
A moment later, he stood in the same snow-covered place from which he had travelled to the Lands Between two days ago, except that he was no longer sitting on Torrent's back but lying in a snowdrift.
With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, gripping the snow, though the cold didn't seem to bother him, even though the temperature here was mortally dangerous.
He pressed the ring to his lips, and with a whistle that escaped him, Torren appeared, greeting him with a cheerful neigh.
Once Jon was on his trusty mount, he surveyed the surroundings. The road in the direction he'd come from was completely covered in snow, with no sign of their advance, and Torrent was racing like the wind itself.
It would take at least many hours for the snow to cover their tracks, even here. This meant that, unlike the last time he'd been in the Lands Between, time had moved on. The only question was how much time had passed.
He glanced up at the sky, which was obscured by thick black clouds, but given the prevailing twilight and the slightly lighter clouds to the east, it suggested the sun was just rising. At best, a day might have passed; at worst... he didn't even want to think about it.
Without hesitation, he urged Torrent to a gallop, feeling a surge of worry for Tormund, his companions, and the remaining Free Folk in Hardhome. He had been under the illusion that he would return the moment he disappeared, but clearly that wasn't how it worked.
He should have understood this sooner, for the machinations of the gods were never simple and logical.
His anxiety grew even more as everything around him seemed too calm, even the weather itself. Although the sky was overcast, there was no snow falling, nor was there even a trace of the slightest breeze.
But that wasn't all; he heard no animal sounds; even Torrent seemed a bit restless, and his mount charged straight into the dragon's jaws without hesitation.
He stopped at the edge of a cliff overlooking the partially icy bay and the former Free Folk settlement below.
Of that place, only ruins and charred stones remained, but he could make out hundreds, even thousands, of tents or simple, hastily constructed wooden huts, with people bustling about among them.
Gazing at what was happening below, he suddenly felt a strange sensation, as if he were being watched. He immediately turned his head around, trying to locate the observer. He was convinced it wasn't human, for the gaze he sensed seemed inhumanly malevolent.
His gaze settled on the treeline in the distance, a dozen or so kilometres away, where the Haunted Forest began. For a moment, it seemed to him as if the treeline glowed with blue spots, but at this distance, he couldn't tell, even though his eyesight was much better than it had been just a few days ago.
He felt a heat rising in his left eye as if in response, as if the Great Rune of Life was reacting hostilely to whatever lay there.
He also knew perfectly well who the gaze belonged to, and the fact that they weren't attacking deepened his worry. The Others were waiting for something; perhaps they had a trap set? But for what purpose? They had the Free Folk within reach.
No matter. All the more reason to reach Cotter Pyk quickly and order an evacuation. He urged Torrent forward, and his mount, as if knowing his thoughts, leapt into the abyss without hesitation.
In a matter of seconds, they had covered over four hundred metres (1,300 feet) of ground, but when they were barely above ground, Torrent used his ability and leapt gracefully off the air as if it were solid ground, landing lightly on the snow-covered ground of the camp.
Hundreds of people around him, mostly women and children, watched in a mixture of bewilderment and fear. Jon quickly turned to the boy holding the spear, who couldn't have been more than 12 name days old.
"I am Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night Watch. Tell whoever is leading you that if you want to escape from here alive, meet me at the quay, near the moored ships, as soon as possible." His voice held a sharp edge, so the boy wouldn't even consider disobeying him.
Seeing his hesitation, he urged, "Go ahead."
Then he glanced around at the desperate, emaciated faces surrounding him. "Get ready. Anyone who can't fit on the ships will follow me along the shore!" He called out loudly.
The Free Folk began to whisper and mutter among themselves, clearly lost, but a fire still burnt within a few, though it was turned against those who shouldn't.
"Why should we follow you, Crow and sorcerer apparently with your magical horse and the fancy golden eye? To lead us into some trap?" asked one of the few men, now heavily grey and hunched. A dozen or so people around him nodded.
Jon shrugged and replied, "You can stay and test your strength against the Ice Demons. I can only wish you luck when you look into their bright blue, cruel eyes and see something worse than death."
The man clenched his jaw visibly, but after a moment, he nodded, saying, "Aye. You've convinced me."
Jon just rolled his eyes and then shouted again. "Regardless of the decisions of those who lead you here, within the hour the ships will depart and I, along with the remaining volunteers, will head south... Pray to your gods, and do not waste this opportunity!"
With these words, he steered Torrent toward the quay, and the Free Folk made way for him, many already hurrying off, likely to gather the few belongings they possessed or to inform their families and friends.
The news of his arrival had preceded him, as he didn't rush Torrent so as not to trample anyone. A small crowd had gathered there, and from the ships, two lifeboats were heading toward the shore.
Jon leaped nimbly from the saddle, landing ankle-deep in snow, and then headed toward the approaching boats. The Free Folk gathered on the shore itself parted before him, and when his glowing eye caught their gaze they looked away.
Jon remained silent, waiting, and looked in the direction he had come from, where hundreds of cave entrances lay in the cliff face. He didn't know what they were, but he could smell an unnatural scorching smell and danger.
He realized that Old Nan's tales about this place might hold a grain of truth. Hardhome was supposed to be the only true settlement north of the Wall until it fell several hundred years ago.
The exact cause was unknown, but it was said to have burned for days, the fire blazing over the cliff, which was rather embellished. Furthermore, the stories spoke of thousands of its inhabitants hiding in caves, burned and cursed, whose cries of agony could be heard to this day.
His gaze rose above the cliff, where even further away the Others lurked in the dark woods, and he couldn't help but feel that everything seemed a bit simpler in the Lands Between. The only thing he had to worry about was his head, and perhaps his soul. Here he carried millions of lives on his shoulders, the vast majority unaware of what awaited them.
He was roused from his thoughts by a commotion among the Free Folk, who had been standing there, silent or whispering. A small group of wildlings was approaching from the southeast of the settlement, led by an old woman clad in furs and bearing numerous bone talismans.
This must be Mother Mole, the Wood Witch who had led thousands of survivors of Mance Rayder's attack on the Wall.
His gaze, however, immediately focused on the boats approaching the shore, where he immediately spotted Cotter Pyke; his characteristically unattractive face, scarred by pox, was easily recognizable.
Cotter hurried toward Jon, but when he reached him a few meters away, he stopped dead, frowning.
"Is that really you, Lord Snow? Have you changed since we last met... and I'm not just talking about growing taller. Is that a fucking glowing eye?"
Jon raised an eyebrow slightly. Now that he thought about it, he was looking down at the man, even though they'd been about the same height the last time they'd seen each other.
"Aye. A lot has happened in the last few days. Bowen and a few others assassinated me," Jon admitted, absently running a hand through his stubble of hair. "But there'll be time for details later. We have a whole settlement to evacuate, Pyke. How many can you accommodate?"
The man clearly wanted to say something but finally decided against it. Glancing at the ships moored in the water, he replied, "No more than 800-900 people, and that's pushing the ships to the brim. These aren't the big ships of the Redwyns or Braavos."
Jon simply nodded in response. He'd expected as much. How was he supposed to get the remaining few thousand, mostly starving women and children, all the way to the wall when the Others could descend on them at any moment?
"You take as many as you can. I... I'll try to get the rest along the coast somehow," he ordered, but he saw the doubt in Pyke's eyes. He himself had doubts as well.
"With all due respect, Lord Snow, but even though the storms on the Shivering Sea have subsided, the sea is frozen for several hundred metres, blocking our escape. We will not cross," the Eastwatch commander replied, his usually defiant tone completely gone from his voice, leaving fear and resignation.
Jon sighed heavily. He had no means, no miracles he could pull out of his sleeve to somehow salvage the situation. Even his Agheel's Flame Incantation couldn't thaw such stretches of sea.
Jon frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember what these areas looked like on the map they had at Castle Black. To his surprise, just as he had with the map of the Lands Between, a map of his home world appeared before his eyes, or rather, his left eye.
Not only Westeros, but also the continents of Essos, Sothoryos, and Ulthos. Each one was meticulously detailed, with cities, villages, and diverse terrain marked. Without looking the gift horse in the mouth, he wasted no time focusing on the section of the map representing the lands beyond the Wall and Skagos.
However, the longer he looked, the more he saw no solution. The ships were completely cut off, and he was convinced it was the work of the Others, who wanted to entirely break their spirits before killing them. The ice demons took pleasure in this kind of cruelty.
He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking, then opened them and looked around at the Free Folk surrounding him and several Night's Watch brothers under Pyke's command. Mother Mole, who had arrived moments ago, stared at him intently, silently.
He turned to Pyke. "Abandon the ships and bring all crew ashore. We will all head along the coast. Waiting here is death."
His tone left no room for questioning the order, for Pyke merely nodded and then immediately moved toward the lifeboats. Before he could turn to Mother Mole to prepare her men for the march, however, a high-pitched voice reached him from behind him.
"You must go to the caves, Dawnbringer. They hold a truth you must learn."
Jon turned immediately, spotting a small figure he initially mistook for a child, around whom the Free Folk parted in fear, but also with excited whispers.
The creature was perhaps 90 cm (3 feet) tall. It had a slight, quick, and graceful figure and nut-brown skin, dappled with paler spots like that of a deer or fawn. Shards of dragonglass were woven into its braided white hair. Large gold eyes with vertical catlike pupils stared at him intently, and large, pointed ears twitched nervously.
Jon looked closely at the creature, who could only be one of the Children of the Forest, pulled from one of Old Nan's tales.
"Who are you, and what do you mean by caves? I don't have time to explore caves when the Others are just beyond that cliff," Jon replied, trying to maintain a polite tone with the creature, who was probably several times older than him, if the story were to be believed, and perhaps could also help him find a solution to his current problems.
"I am Song," the creature introduced herself, a woman, if he judged correctly from her tone and build, though he couldn't be entirely sure. "The Others won't attack until you leave. But staying here guarantees death by starvation, so you have no choice. But before you head south, you must come with me to the caves; it's important."
Jon, though reluctant, could sense in the creature's tone that she considered this very important and was extremely keen on it. Before he could respond, Song added, "I've been waiting here for you for over 8,000 years, guarding what these caves hold. To finish what the Fire People from the east failed to do centuries ago."
These words caught him off guard, and he focused his full attention on Song. Fire People? Valyrians? Here, and several hundred years ago? Around the same time, Hardhome was burnt to the ground. It couldn't be a coincidence.
"Tell me more about these..." He stopped mid-sentence as the Child of the Forest bolted toward the caves, calling, "Come quickly. We have no time to waste!"
Jon hesitated for only a moment before turning to Mother Mole. "Prepare everyone to march. I will return soon."
"As you command, Dawnbringer," she replied without hesitation, then began issuing orders. Jon, meanwhile, went after Child.
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Westeros, Hardhome
Aerion/Jon
From this side, the cliff looked like a perforated cheese, or a sieve, for hundreds of cave entrances were carved into it. Song followed him into one such entrance, holding the Ornamental Straight Sword in one hand and the Academy Glintstone Staff in the other.
The cave walls seemed too smooth, too perfect, too gleaming. Only a moment later did it dawn on him. They weren't made of stone. They were ice.
"You're right," Song said, moving a few steps ahead of him, almost running. "These caves are not the creation of humans, nor of any creatures with warm blood. The ice demons themselves created them at the dawn of this world. They are old and their god is older than the earth, older than the seas, older than life itself"
"So how can you even fight something like that?" Jon asked, frowning thoughtfully.
Song turned her head back for a moment and glanced at him, not pausing for a moment. "You don't fight. You try to survive and pray to the gods to send us someone like you."
Jon was stunned by this answer. He couldn't stop the question that was escaping his lips. "That's what everyone does. So let me ask, how am I supposed to fight an ancient god?"
Child of the Forest just shrugged. "If I knew, I wouldn't hide it... Dawnbringer, unless you think of something, we're all finished."
After these words, she fell silent, and Jon followed her, still waiting for an explanation of what they were doing here and what she wanted him to see. Whispers and the agonised cries of the tormented victims of what had happened here hundreds of years ago assaulted his ears from all sides.
After another dozen or so minutes, having delved a total of perhaps two kilometres into the caves, which proved larger than he expected, they reached a chamber shrouded in darkness, where even his left eye failed him; he could only see the outline of a vast expanse, but what lay within was lost in the gloom.
"We're here. What you see here will completely change your perception of what you will face," Song said, her unusually sombre tone immediately filling him with an uncertainty he hadn't felt even in the Lands Between.
Perhaps that was why he couldn't die completely there, or perhaps because the fate of the people he cared about hung in the balance here? He didn't know, and all other thoughts faded as Song tossed the acorn in her hand, which flashed with a powerful light perhaps twenty metres into the air, momentarily illuminating what appeared to be a gigantic cave stretching for hundreds of metres.
The flash lasted only a moment, but it was enough to freeze his blood.
The entire cave chamber was filled with hundreds of upright ice sarcophagi, forming a familiar circle-based symbol.
What lay within them was terrifying. Each held an Other within. Not weights, no. Cursed a thousand times over, Others. Hundreds. Sleeping ice demons, clad in their icy armour.
Jon looked wide-eyed at Song, who, seeing this, nodded in understanding. "Now you know. That handful of ice demons you saw couldn't have brought down the first empire of the dragonlords."
Jon didn't know what she meant by the first empire, as his mind struggled to process the implications of what he saw.
"Do you understand what I meant earlier when I said the Fire People of the east failed? When their dragons wouldn't cross the Wall, they sent ships and sorcerers who fed the fire with the lives of this settlement's inhabitants to destroy this place."
"And apparently they failed," Jon interjected, and Song nodded.
"Yes, they failed. The fire consumed the settlement, its inhabitants, and themselves, but it did not destroy a single ice demon... Their Lord's will protects them. And that same will awaken them when it comes..."
Suddenly, the Song fell silent, and Jon, whose gaze had focused on her for a moment, immediately turned his head toward the cave's interior.
Bright blue dots began to glow in the darkness, slightly distorted by the ice. And with each passing moment, more and more appeared. Dozens, then hundreds. And Jon felt a chill run through him, an icy grip on his heart. A moment later, he felt a presence pressing into his mind, vast and terrifying.
It was as if something that had seen him as just another grain of sand in the desert suddenly focused its full attention on him.
At that same moment, he saw a message etched in the air in golden letters. They were all screwed.
The Great Other's gaze fell upon you!
The hunt has begun!
SURVIVE!