John swung his flaming sword, the massive blade blazing bright as it tore through the dead, scattering charred corpses across the snow. Behind him, Roberta moved with precision, slashing down the wights that got too close, her movements sharp and purposeful. The two fought in perfect sync, their battle a deadly dance of fire and steel.
Finally, they reached the group.
The others froze, staring at the newcomers. A man with stark white hair wielding a sword of living fire, and a woman right behind him, radiating an air of calm, unshakable danger.
"Magic," Sandor muttered under his breath, his voice uneasy. His eyes stayed locked on the flames, old fears flickering across his face like shadows he couldn't push away.
The others barely had time to process it. After all they had endured dead men walking, dragons breathing fire, battles beyond belief this was just one more piece of madness in a world gone insane.
John didn't spare them a glance. His focus was locked on the Night King, who stood motionless amidst the chaos, completely unfazed by Drogon's relentless flames.
"Why isn't it working?" Daenerys shouted from above, her voice carrying frustration and grief as Drogon let out another massive torrent of fire.
The flames roared across the battlefield, but the Night King didn't so much as blink. He stood there, a statue of ice and frost, as unyielding as the storm around him.
Tormund, panting from the relentless fight, managed a strained grin as he caught sight of John. "You're alive," he said, relief breaking through his exhaustion.
Roberta didn't slow down. She threw another bomb into the horde, clearing a space in front of them. "Yeah. You too," she said flatly, not breaking stride.
John didn't respond. His grip on the flaming sword tightened, the flames flaring brighter, almost as if responding to his determination. His sharp eyes caught the Night King's movement. Slowly, with deliberate precision, the icy figure began forming an enormous spear of ice in his hands.
"He's aiming," John muttered to himself, remembering a dragon will die.
The target wasn't Drogon. It was the other dragon circling above.
Before anyone could act, the ice spear flew. It sliced through the air with terrifying speed and precision, slamming directly into the dragon's chest.
The dragon's agonized roar ripped through the battlefield as it plummeted from the sky, crashing into the icy ground with an earth-shattering impact. Snow, ice, and corpses erupted into the air like a deadly wave.
Daenerys gasped, frozen in shock as tears streaked down her cheeks, freezing in the bitter cold. Drogon roared, his grief and fury shaking the very air around them, while the remaining dragon circled the Night King, its cries filled with rage.
But the Night King was already preparing another spear, his cold, unblinking gaze locking onto Drogon.
"Take the dead! Get it on the dragon and go!" Jon shouted, snapping everyone out of their daze.
Jorah and Sandor sprang into action, hauling the bound wight toward Drogon as the rest of the group hacked through the swarm of dead pressing in. Daenerys landed Drogon near them, her face a mixture of heartbreak and determination. She knew what was at stake.
"Move faster!" Tormund bellowed, cleaving through another wight trying to grab Beric.
John stayed where he was, his fiery sword casting an orange glow against the snow. His eyes tracked the Night King, who had raised the second spear, ready to throw.
"You should go too!" Jon called to him, urgency breaking through the chaos.
John didn't hesitate. He raised his sword, the flames intensifying as he created a fiery shield to block the incoming attack.
The ice spear slammed into it, shattering both with a deafening roar. The blast sent a wave of freezing air through the crowd.
"Too strong," John muttered under his breath, feeling the strain from the sheer power of the collision.
Without missing a beat, he raised Caliburn, the blade he had taken back from Roberta moments ago. With a sharp motion, he opened a glowing portal directly near the Night King, aiming to catch him off guard.
But the Night King moved with supernatural reflexes, instantly sensing the trap. His icy hand reached for the glowing blade, but the touch lasted only a moment before cracks spread across his fingers.
John pulled the blade back, shutting the portal before the Night King could act further.
In the same motion, he hurled another bomb into the chaos.
BOOM
A deafening explosion erupted. Smoke and ice filled the air, momentarily obscuring the Night King in the haze.
John's breath was heavy as he waited for the smoke to clear. But then, through the thinning mist, the Night King stepped forward, completely unaffected. His piercing blue eyes locked onto John, cold and unyielding. His armor was untouched, not a single scratch from the bomb's explosion.
John's stomach twisted. He had expected some reaction, some sign of weakness, but the Night King looked more like an unstoppable force than ever. His icy gaze seemed almost... mocking.
"He's... fine," John muttered, disbelief creeping into his voice. "Not even a scratch."
The Night King tilted his head slightly, almost as if amused by the attempt. Then, with slow deliberation, he raised his hand, the icy spear forming again as frost crept up his fingers.
"Let's go!" John shouted to Roberta, his voice sharper now. He could feel the danger mounting with every second they lingered.
Roberta had been holding her ground, still throwing bombs to keep the dead at bay, but at John's words, she sprinted toward Drogon.
The two of them sprinted toward Drogon, where Jon was already waiting, helping the others secure the wight.
The two climbed onto the dragon, John taking the rear position to keep watch as Drogon's wings spread wide. The beast roared, launching into the storm-filled sky with powerful beats of its wings.
Below, the battlefield faded into chaos, but John's eyes stayed fixed on the Night King. The icy figure watched them leave, his cold gaze piercing through the storm. Even now, as they soared higher, John couldn't shake the sense that this was far from over.
The Night King turned his attention to the dragon's lifeless form sinking into the frozen lake. His expression didn't change, but his next move was clear. This battle was only beginning.