An orange path of fire streaked through the black and grey ranks of the White Walker army. It seemed to have materialized from nowhere, as though the frozen legion had been soaked in fuel and set alight. Yet these so-called flames were not ordinary fire—they were pitch-black dragon fire.
Spewed forth by the dragons, the fire retained its black hue even in the air, blending seamlessly with the darkened sky. But as it struck the ground and consumed the White Walkers, it ignited into shades of vivid orange and yellow. Under the dragon's relentless blaze, both wights and White Walkers erupted into flames.
As the dragonfire engulfed the White Walkers, dense white mist poured from their bodies, like superheated iron doused in ice-cold water.
An Icebone Tower that blocked the fiery path soon became the focus of Viserys's wrath. He directed the dragonfire at the tower, which was deluged in black flames for more than ten seconds. Its structural integrity gave way, disintegrating into shards as though the magic binding it had been undone.
Viserys, Dany, and Monterys had brought all seven dragons to this battle, alongside Hali and Hermine. Their mission was clear: carve a path for the forces of the North and the Night's Watch to retreat. This goal required calculated risk; aerial bombardment alone wouldn't suffice. In addition to their dragons, they commanded 30,000 elite troops from the South, equipped for the unique challenges of fighting the White Walkers.
Among their arsenal were 1,000 chariots, chosen for their sheer momentum. These chariots surged forward along the fiery path burned by dragon flames, smashing through the wights. Soldiers aboard hurled grenades to further widen the escape route for the Northern forces.
Jon Snow was now flanked by only a dozen loyal guards. They had been steadily retreating, and he had lost track of which part of the battlefield he occupied. The only certainty was that survivors remained behind him, and that knowledge was enough. His own survival was irrelevant—what mattered was using every last ounce of strength to strike down one more White Walker, to push back the encroaching tide just a little longer.
A sudden, familiar explosion echoed across the battlefield.
"Land mines? Or explosives?" Jon muttered, looking up instinctively.
He spotted Viserys astride his dragon, speeding toward him. The dragon flew perilously close to the ground—barely five or six meters above it. As it approached, the gust from its massive wings sent waves of air rippling over Jon. The dragon unleashed a torrent of black fire, incinerating the White Walkers ahead of Jon as if they were nothing more than dry weeds.
Seizing the moment, Jon swung his Coldfyre and decapitated a still-burning White Walker.
Its headless body crumbled into fine shards of ice, disintegrating along with the wights that had attacked alongside it. This brief reprieve allowed Jon to glance up at the soaring dragon.
What's it like to ride a dragon? Am I worthy? The thought was fleeting. He shook his head, dispelling it, and refocused on the battle, cutting down another burning White Walker nearby.
From a distance, Ned Stark's hardened expression softened slightly as he watched the dragon's arrival. Despite the dire circumstances, the sight brought a sliver of relief. He had just received word of Robb's death—a devastating blow. There was no time to grieve. Not only Robb, but many Northern Lords had fallen, victims of the Night King's brutal decapitation strategy. Without Viserys's timely arrival, the Northern army might have already dissolved into chaos.
The fact that Bran and Rickon were still alive was his only consolation. Seeing Viserys's intent, Ned rallied a contingent of Night's Watch and began leading them toward a breakout...
"Higher, higher, higher!" Viserys shouted from the back of his dragon, his voice nearly drowned out by the roaring wind and the deafening flaps of wings.
One path of retreat wasn't enough for the combined forces of the North and the South. They needed another, cutting through the enemy from a different direction. Responding to his command, the seven dragons banked sharply, wheeling around to begin their attack anew.
Meanwhile, the heavy cavalry led by Garlan Tyrell and Randyll Tarly prepared for their charge. Seeing Viserys and the dragons flying toward their position, the cavalrymen leveled their spears, bracing for action. The dragons soared overhead, their black fire trailing behind them, before turning back to incinerate the ranks of wights ahead of the charging cavalry.
On Viserys's dragon rode not only the Targaryen prince but also Benerro and a dozen red priests. This was their moment, their chance to study the enigmatic Icebone Towers. Viserys had initially believed that defeating the Night King would require a massive army assault to capture one or two of these towers. Now, however, the situation had presented an unexpected opportunity.
"Airborne" reconnaissance by the red priests could provide insights into the towers' structure—knowledge crucial for developing a countermeasure: the Dragonbone Tower. Whatever form this new weapon would take, Dragonbone would be its cornerstone.
"What about that Icebone Tower?" Viserys shouted, pointing to a three-meter-tall structure below. His voice had to rise above the fierce winds and the chaos of battle as he issued commands to Dany and his daughters.
The tower stood isolated, with only a few White Walkers and wights nearby. Its location in rugged terrain made it difficult for reinforcements to arrive quickly. A perfect candidate for closer study—or so it seemed.
"Your Grace, it would be better if we could find a larger one," Benerro suggested after a moment of thought. His tone carried both respect and urgency. A larger tower would yield greater insights, especially one of strategic significance. The Night King himself had chosen a towering hundred-foot Icebone Tower as his base of operations; clearly, their size was tied to their importance.
Viserys nodded, shifting his gaze to a five-meter-tall tower. While relatively isolated, its flat surroundings made it vulnerable to swift reinforcement by enemy forces.
"Your Grace, that one," Benerro pointed toward a seven-meter-tall Icebone Tower.
This tower loomed ominously, one of the largest they had encountered so far. Its defenses were formidable—hundreds of White Walkers and wights encircled it. Among them stood a dozen Giant Wights, their massive frames casting long shadows in the flickering firelight.
Near the tower, Viserys spotted a contingent of White Walker cavalry. This fearsome unit consisted not only of White Walkers on undead horses but also those mounted on enormous spiders, their spindly legs capable of scaling treacherous terrain with ease. Should reinforcements be needed, the spider-mounted White Walkers could reach the tower within two minutes.
On the opposite side of the tower lay even more threats: a large force of White Walker warriors, disciplined and prepared for battle.
Viserys studied the scene, weighing their chances. Finally, he turned to Benerro, his expression resolute. "I can buy you at most 15 minutes. How much you can learn from the Icebone Tower in that time is up to you!"