[Chapter Size: 3500 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 298 AC.

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Mance was surprised to see all the creatures coming from the sky being consumed by flames at that very moment, as more and more bursts of fire exploded, lighting up a large part of the sky. Everyone in the camp saw a glow rise like a beacon in the middle of that night.

“This is the power of a dragon…”, he murmured, incredulous.

He didn’t know what dragons were like in the past, but whether he knew or not, Mance certainly knew no one wanted to face that creature while being the target of that fire spewing from the dragon’s mouth. In just one second, it had burned almost the entire aerial threat.

Eragon’s flames were more powerful than those of a common dragon. After all, his existence had always been special. The reach of his flames was immensely greater than any other recorded dragon. No matter the size — Eragon could spew red flames with enough intensity to easily set the forest ablaze.

Even the warriors beside Mance were paralyzed as they saw the dragon fly through the very flames it had just released. Its rider didn’t seem to care about the heat, advancing to the other side of the fire line to observe the state of the camp.

They then put the dragon out of their minds, thankful it was an ally, and returned to attacking the undead coming from the forest with flaming arrows. At the same time, the few birds in the sky that had survived began to scatter. But Jon had been lucky to hit most of them with just one blast, since they had gathered together in the earlier attack.

Quickly, he commanded Eragon through the deep connection they shared. In that moment, he and his dragon were one — Jon could control Eragon effectively and completely, even taking over his eyes and body.

That made Jon the most dangerous dragon rider in history.

After all, it didn’t matter how much the ancestors boasted about riding and commanding dragons — none of them could truly control them. They always had to issue commands and rely on a response. Not Jon. He could do it instantly. He could feel, think, and control. Eragon responded to his thoughts as if they were his own.

Then Eragon beat his wings hard, gaining momentum as he flew back over the birds that were still trying to reach the camp. Once again, he opened his mouth and unleashed a new blaze of fire that lit up the sky. Turning his head, he drew curves with the fire, hitting an even larger area. With every touch, no matter how small, like any undead, the birds ignited as if made of oil.

Still, some managed to bypass Eragon’s defense from other angles and began descending toward the front lines of the camp.

“Shoot the sky!”, Mance shouted, seeing them approach.

But it’s much harder to hit birds than the dead on the ground.

Most of the shots missed. Meanwhile, the birds attacked directly at the faces and eyes of the tribal warriors. Men screamed, falling to the ground with blood running down their faces as they tried to rid themselves of the blue-eyed creatures.

“Get it off me! Get it off!”, they begged desperately as the birds tore their skin with sharp claws and beaks.

People ran around trying to help the wounded. Chaos was beginning to break out.

But then, once again, a new blaze crossed the sky above them. Eragon was returning to the attack.

He spun over the camp and released more fire on another group of advancing birds. The fire destroyed everything it touched, clearing a path through the dark sky and protecting those below from new enemies.

Eragon dove into the flames.

But now they had to get out of there.

“Now they’ll have to fend for themselves,” Jon murmured, watching the chaos unfold as the undead drew ever closer, thanks to the time the birds had bought for the White Walkers.

Jon knew that now, he needed to focus on the sides of the camp, where the animals were already approaching. The people responsible for defending that area could already hear the forest making growling sounds. They swallowed hard, readying several flaming arrows.

Jon arrived before the animals emerged on the left side of the camp. Everyone looked up at the sky and saw the dragon pass over them, spewing a blaze of fire directly into the forest. The flames spread like a furious sea, consuming trees and shadows.

That group even cheered, in a way, at the sight of the dragon burning the area. And he didn’t stop — he carved a massive path of destruction through the forest, while the red flames consumed everything beneath him as Eragon advanced.

“Let’s go to the other side,” Jon spoke aloud, as Eragon turned in the air.

On the other side of the camp, the situation was more critical, with the animals already attacking, and the people were fighting desperately to defend themselves, launching arrows at the creatures.

However, Jon had a bad feeling.

Through one of the birds circling the area, he noticed movement: the White Walker who had survived the flames was back — even after being hit in the area of the fire, he was fine. The area around him began to cool again, and the flames near him were extinguished, as if swept away by a frosty breath, just with his presence.

Eragon flew overhead, and Jon noticed when the spear on the White Walker’s back moved. He was about to throw it.

“Down…” Jon thought immediately, worried about the possibility of it hitting Eragon.

The dragon quickly began to descend to gain momentum. The White Walker, calculating the trajectory, hurled the spear at tremendous speed, aiming for the spot where Eragon was heading.

“Now!” Jon thought with another reflex.

Eragon spread his wings forcefully, gliding quickly to dodge. The spear shot past, falling far below him.

“We’ll have to be careful with that…” Jon murmured, adjusting himself in the saddle.

Eragon began to emit steam from his wings. His speed increased instantly, and he flew to the other side of the camp. There, people were firing frantically, trying to stop an avalanche of undead animals of all kinds and sizes.

Arrows continued to fly, but the small animals — rabbits, squirrels, and even smaller undead rodents — were getting through the defensive line, reaching the Free Folk. That area was far less defensible than the north, and the White Walkers’ servants had the advantage.

Quickly, Jon arrived, cutting through the chaos, and Eragon began to spew more flames, stopping other groups from advancing toward the camp. Once again, he roared, spitting fire that incinerated everything around.

“Turn!” Jon thought quickly.

Eragon consciously folded his wings, spinning his body in the air as he began to lose altitude. Another spear was launched toward the sky, and Jon held tight to the saddle while Eragon managed to dodge it by just a few meters. In the next moment, he opened his wings to glide and spat more fire, burning the entire area beneath the dragon.

“They only have one shot…” Jon reflected, realizing the White Walker had no other spear — only a sword now, but he doubted it would be used to throw.

Jon had never seen the White Walkers do that before; clearly, they believed this was the best way to deal with Eragon, for obvious reasons.

Eragon then dove, intending to completely devastate that area and destroy all the undead animals advancing. The flames kept spreading, consuming every corner of the forest.

The creatures roared desperately beneath Eragon. Jon didn’t know if they felt pain or not, but there must have been at least five thousand animals down there. Eragon continued scorching that side, blocking any passage to the camp, while the number of enemies decreased by the second, consumed by the flames spreading through the forest.

Eragon rose into the sky, breathing deeply, while sending a few thoughts to Jon, who raised an eyebrow.

“You’re sure about this?” Jon commented, as Eragon began to prepare, heading back toward one of the burning areas where there was a small space the fire hadn’t yet reached. That was where the White Walker stood.

Jon accepted Eragon’s suggestion, and together they charged at high speed toward that area. After gaining altitude, they began descending toward the White Walker — the same one who had missed with the spear earlier.

He looked at the approaching dragon without much concern. After all, he knew flames didn’t work on him.

Or, at least, that’s what he thought.

However, he realized too late that the dragon wasn’t stopping. Eragon kept closing in at high speed, like a living missile.

When the White Walker finally understood, Eragon was already upon him. The ground exploded with the impact of the landing, flames retreating in all directions from the wind generated by the violent touchdown.

The White Walker didn’t even have time to react.

Eragon moved his neck in a swift strike, grabbing him with his teeth. Then, he lifted him into the air, crushing the creature’s body with his powerful bite. The Walker shattered like a pile of ice, exploding inside the dragon’s mouth and scattering in gleaming shards across the field in front of them.

“Well… that was brutal. But efficient,” Jon murmured, impressed.

Eragon had simply wanted to kill him with his teeth. Without a spear or any launching weapon, it was easy to reach him. Perhaps the White Walker hadn’t expected that… but it worked.

The flames returned with even greater force, driven by the wind generated by the dragon’s action. Eragon then rose into the sky once again, leaving the area. All the animals that had remained in that part of the forest fell to the ground, their bodies lifeless now that their master had been destroyed.

“Let’s go back to the left side,” Jon decided, as Eragon departed the area. Cries from the Free Folk could be heard, who seemed glad for the help — although many were still stunned by what they had witnessed.

“You want to try that…? It worked when the southern men attacked the realm…” Jon asked mentally, once again sensing Eragon’s thoughts.

Many animals were still coming from that side of the burned forest. The people were trying to hold them off, keeping them from getting any closer to the camp.

Eragon returned, flying over the enemies while unleashing fire on the areas they passed through. Gaining more altitude, Jon then located another White Walker, walking slowly through the flames. As he passed, the fire receded around him, as if fearing his presence.

Jon gave the command. Eragon accelerated.

The White Walker looked up at the sky, seeing the dragon turning and coming his way. He watched calmly, unaware that another of his kind had already been destroyed moments earlier. If he knew, perhaps he wouldn’t be so confident now, as the dragon rapidly closed in from above.

But Eragon took a slightly different approach. As he neared, he opened his mouth to unleash a blaze of flame — but unlike before, no red glow came from his throat… it was white.

The White Walker sensed the danger at that moment, but it was already too late.

In the next second, Eragon spewed white flames, which exploded against the scorched area — and it was as if red had turned to snow. He was the main target, taking the full hit. The body of the White Walker began to fragment immediately, cracking until it exploded from the impact of the flames.

The contrast was clear: the white blaze covered everything, and the ground began to freeze with an intense cold.

“Incredible… it worked,” Jon couldn’t help but murmur, amazed by what he had just witnessed. He knew from the reports Ducken had given him about the invasion in the south — Eragon had killed White Walkers the same way.

And his dragon had just destroyed two White Walkers.

Quickly, Eragon began to leave the area, while the dead animals dropped to the ground, lifeless, after losing control from their master’s death.

Now, all Jon needed to do was deal with the northern side, where another White Walker had taken advantage of the chaos caused by the birds. He had waited for the exact moment — when he believed all the dragonglass arrows had already been spent.

The dead were already invading the front lines of the camp, clashing with the Free Folk, who now could barely handle them from a distance.

At the same time, the undead birds were still circling, slashing faces, tearing out eyes.

Mance frowned as he saw the White Walker advancing, getting closer and closer to the front line. The flaming arrows launched at him simply extinguished before even reaching his skin. When they did hit, they shattered into fragments, causing no damage. The Walker walked slowly, unaffected by the dozens of arrows falling on him.

Nothing hit or harmed him.

That began to break the morale of the warriors, who were already retreating in fear of the creature.

Mance furrowed his brow even more, trying to issue a new, more effective command to stop the enemy — but he didn’t even see the bird approaching from his left flank. He only noticed it when it was already too late.

The creature charged straight at him, and he didn’t even have time to draw his sword.

That was when a blade sliced the bird before it could get too close. The creature dropped to the ground, writhing with half its body gone.

Mance looked, surprised, and saw Val standing before him, anger in her eyes.

“Be careful! I don’t want to see my sister crying over a dead husband tonight!” she said firmly, before turning and charging toward the front line, determined to help.

The bird had not been fully destroyed. It hadn’t been hit by flames or by an effective blade, so it kept trying to move, dragging its broken body. Mance sighed at the sight, but quickly turned his attention back to the battle.

Even so, his eyes occasionally drifted to the burning forests in the distance, hundreds of meters away, knowing it was the work of the dragon and his rider, but still wondering if the dragon would return soon, before that White Walker could start a massacre with no one able to stop him.

And, as if in answer to his question, a roar echoed across the sky. A powerful, unmistakable sound. Eragon’s roar.

Jon smiled, analyzing the situation.

“Let me go to the ground now, buddy. You handle the undead… I’ll deal with this White Walker,” Jon said, patting Eragon’s neck lightly.

The dragon responded with a softer roar and, after one last turn in the sky, began to descend, diving toward the battlefield.

In the dragon’s saddle, there were a few weapons Jon had made sure to bring with him. Jon drew a Valyrian steel spear while watching the White Walker closely, who was now staring back at them from a distance, alerted by Eragon’s roar.

Eragon began to descend at high speed while Jon prepared the spear for the attack — before the Walker could even throw his own ice spear.

In the next moment, when they were about two hundred meters away, Jon simply hurled his weapon with all his strength, further propelled by Eragon’s flight. The spear shot like lightning.

The White Walker was surprised by it. Sensing the danger, he leapt to the side just as he was about to be struck. The spear slammed into the ground where he had just been.

But that was exactly what Jon wanted.

The Walker’s jump gave Eragon the chance to close in — even if it meant risking retaliation. The dragon flew low, startling even the Free Folk with how close he was to the ground.

Jon, then, from his saddle, undid his safety strap and jumped. He leapt from Eragon straight into the front lines of the fight. And as soon as he hit the snow, he had to act fast — one of them attacked him upon seeing him appear, but Jon spun with agility, caught the person’s arm mid-swing, and, with firm control, grabbed their neck before slamming them to the ground with elegance and precision.

The people around watched in shock as Eragon lifted off again, gliding upward after his low pass.

Jon then looked at the blonde woman who had tried to attack him, holding her by the neck. Her eyes widened, surprised and with visible fear, though she tried to stay firm.

“Why did you attack me?” Jon asked, tightening his grip a little to hear her answer, while people nearby began to notice his presence due to the shining armor that contrasted with the Free Folk’s style.

“I was charging at the enemy when you landed right on top of me… I thought you were one of those creatures,” she murmured with difficulty due to the pressure.

Jon slowly released her neck but still held her hand on the sword, preventing any reaction. After a few seconds, he finally let go and stood.

“Whatever…” he said, giving no more thought to the woman.

Immediately, Jon advanced toward the front line, removing Blackfyre from its sheath — a Valyrian steel trident that reflected the light of the flames in the distance.

“Leave the White Walker to me!” Jon shouted as he approached.

A group of Free Folk looked at him, surprised, but made way.

“Don’t attack the man in armor!” Mance yelled, also stunned to see Jon heading toward the White Walker and wondering if he had really jumped from the dragon. He emerged from the vines where he was battling several undead.

The White Walker had finally recovered. He was getting up after being thrown by the earlier impact. The spear Jon had thrown was still buried deep in the snow, a result of the powerful hit.

The Walker looked at Jon. And Jon could feel the rage emanating from the creature.

Even so, he advanced without fear.

Above them, Eragon sliced through the skies, firing flames through the forest, destroying the undead still emerging. The pressure on the camp was gradually easing, though a few irritating birds still attacked the Free Folk.

Many watched in stunned silence as Jon walked directly toward the White Walker.

Val was one of them. She stared wide-eyed, surprised to witness it.

Eragon’s flames swept the forest as he flew behind the White Walker, when Jon finally reached him. He held his sword, and the creature responded with its spear.

They clashed, the sound of weapons ringing out — blade of magical Valyrian steel against blade of magical ice — with the White Walker widening his eyes as he realized that sword wasn’t breaking on impact.

“Are you surprised?” Jon commented openly, with a slight tone of sarcasm.

The blades parted for a moment, only to clash again with even more force. They began exchanging blows at high speed — a speed no ordinary human could follow. After all, the White Walkers were stronger and faster than any enemy Jon had ever faced, while Jon had consumed potions over the years that pushed his body beyond human limits.

Meanwhile, the Free Folk continued exterminating the last of the undead. Eragon did his part, cremating the entire surrounding forest. No path remained, no undead could get close anymore. The flames completely blocked the way.

With no more enemies nearby, many of the Free Folk warriors stopped fighting. Now, all eyes were fixed on the battle unfolding between Jon and the White Walker. A fierce dance between Valyrian steel and ice, with blows exchanged at high speed.

Certainly, no one there would be able to join that fight — not even the most skilled warriors. The sound of clashing blades echoed across the field, mixed with the constant crackle of the flames consuming the forest around them.

The fight went on for some time. Jon and the White Walker seemed evenly matched, attacking from all angles, trying to find an opening in each other’s defense — the final strike.

It took so long that even Eragon roared in the sky, impatient, as if saying to his father, ‘Finish this already.’

Jon smiled slightly, as if he had heard his dragon’s thought. And then, he began to pressure the enemy with more speed and strength, forcing the White Walker to retreat.

Blow after blow, Jon pushed him back, until, with a spin, he struck his sword against the enemy’s, disarming him and throwing him to the side. The White Walker’s body was completely exposed.

Jon then moved with precision and drove his blade into the creature’s chest, piercing straight through its body.

The White Walker widened his eyes, surprised. He dropped his spear, losing all strength. His body began to crack like ice from the point where he had been struck, spreading across his entire form… until he finally exploded into shards, turning into nothing more than pieces of ice scattered across the snow.

Jon looked down with satisfaction at the shards on the ground. Then, he sheathed Blackfyre and moved to retrieve the ice spear and the Valyrian steel spear he had thrown earlier.

He then turned, looking at Mance’s men.

Everyone was silent, completely stunned by what they had just witnessed.

The only sound that could be heard was that of the surrounding flames — until Eragon let out a triumphant roar in the sky, flying overhead. It was as if he were celebrating his rider’s victory… but also leaving a clear warning as he saw his father surrounded by a group of strangers:

“If my father is attacked, you will all suffer as the enemies have.”

————-Nexts Chapters —————-

Chapter 258 – Uncle Benjen.

Chapter 263 – The Pact.

Chapter 273 – Ártica Isolates Itself and Prepares for War!

Chapter 282 – The Winterfell Banquet 03.

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