CHAPTER 163

A/N: I have started writing another Fan-fic, this one is a One Piece fan-fic called Sword Saint In The One Piece (D&D) if you are interested, please take a look.

If you want to donate or read up to 35 chapters ahead, you can visit my p-a-t-r-e-on/kurowashi 

If you see grammar errors, please let me know so I can fix them and I'm always open to constructive criticism. 

I would like it if you guys left some reviews.

Thank you for your good words and support.

------

CHAPTER 163

291 AC

POV MC

Following Lord Stark's return to Winterfell, life slowly resumed its usual rhythms. The direwolf pups, once tiny and fragile, had grown considerably. They now exceeded the size of ordinary wolves, their powerful forms hinting at the potential that lay within them. However, despite their growth, they had not yet reached maturity.

On that particular day, as the Stark brothers, Jon and Robb, spent time with their loyal direwolf companions, I found myself drawn towards the Godswood. It was a place of quiet reflection, where the ancient weirwood tree stood as a sentinel of time. My curiosity tugged at me, compelling me to explore the deeper mysteries of this sacred grove.

Previous attempts to commune with the ancient weirwood had yielded only tantalizing hints of consciousness, elusive as whispers in the wind. I yearned to unravel these secrets, to forge a connection with the ancient tree and the network of knowledge it harbored within.

With a gentle touch, I reached out and placed my hand upon the gnarled, weathered bark of the weirwood tree. Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the flow of energy that surged between us, allowing my consciousness to merge with the living essence of the tree itself.

With a heightened focus, I delved deeper into the weirwood's consciousness. This time, the sensations were more distinct, like shadows moving in the recesses of my mind. Many consciousnesses slumbered within the intricate root network, each one a repository of ancient memories and wisdom. Yet, they remained elusive, like whispers just beyond my grasp.

Frustration tugged at my resolve, but I refused to yield. Instead, I redirected my efforts towards the weirwood trees themselves. Before, my connection had extended only as far as Wolfswood, but now, I found myself capable of reaching nearly all the weirwood trees south of the Wall.

However, a peculiar hindrance obstructed my progress. It was as though an invisible barrier, both physical and metaphysical, had been erected within the very roots of the weirwood network. Despite my relentless determination, I couldn't surmount this enigmatic obstacle.

Days turned into a week, and I persisted in my efforts, even going so far as to spend nights beneath the starlit canopy of the wood. Each attempt to breach the mysterious barrier proved fruitless, leaving me to ponder its purpose and origin. It was an unyielding wall that denied my passage.

Amidst my relentless efforts to breach the strange barrier within the weirwood network, curious onlookers would occasionally approach the ancient tree in Godswood. Their gazes held a mixture of awe and reverence as they recognized me – the hero, the warrior of the Old Gods. These encounters only added to my sense of purpose, knowing that others saw me as a champion of the ancient ways.

I was determined to push my abilities to their limits. In my Druid form, I conducted a ritual that bolstered my powers, propelling me to a level just shy of 6. The difference between levels 4 and 5 had been subtle, and this ritual showed that 5 to 6 would be low, too, but at the same time, it made it clear that the jump from 6 to 7 would be monumental. The empowering circle I'd created granted me an hour of heightened abilities, but once I stepped beyond its boundaries, the ritual's effects waned.

That very night, exhausted from my unrelenting efforts to break the elusive barrier, I succumbed to sleep beneath the towering weirwood. In my dreams, the Wall called to me. It was an inexplicable compulsion, drawing me toward the unknown realms beyond. As an eagle, I soared northward, the snowy landscapes stretching endlessly beneath me. The icy forests, towering mountains, and expansive ice fields passed beneath my talons, yet I still couldn't sense or touch the weirwood trees that adorned this desolate ice land.

In this surreal, dreamlike journey, I ventured through raging snowstorms, yet strangely, the bitter cold of the icy winds did not seem to affect me. It was as if I was a mere spectator in a fantastical movie, disconnected from the biting chill that surrounded me. As I pressed onward, the relentless snowstorms began to give way to an otherworldly spectacle.

An ethereal Aurora, unlike any I had ever witnessed, danced in the frosty air. Instead of gracing the night sky above, it shimmered in a mesmerizing display between me and a crystalline mountain ahead. The cascading lights of the Aurora seemed to fall gently to the ground, creating an awe-inspiring curtain of luminescence.

Cautiously, I approached this stunning Wall of lights, but I could see what was behind it. Which, upon closer examination, revealed itself to be made of pure ice. The entire mountain was a breathtaking ice sculpture, glistening with an otherworldly radiance.

Unable to resist the compelling pull, I extended my claw to touch the shimmering curtain of light. To my astonishment, my claw passed through the shimmering barrier. With growing determination, I ventured beyond the Wall of light, feeling the inexplicable beckoning intensify with each wing flap.

Inside the ice mountain, a blinding brilliance greeted me. I transformed back into my human form, surrounded by swirling snow carried by the wind. Despite the blustery environment, I remained untouched by the frigid temperatures, as if insulated by an invisible shield.

A powerful and irresistible urge welled up within me, compelling me to reach out and touch the radiant light that bathed the ice cavern. My hand extended toward the incandescent brilliance, but just as I was about to make contact, an unseen force seized me by the collar and abruptly pulled me back.

I struggled against this invisible barrier, desperately attempting to re-enter the Wall of light. However, it had solidified into a translucent and impenetrable barrier, as unyielding as steel, preventing my passage.

Turning away from the impenetrable barrier of light, I shifted my focus to the eerie army that stood vigil beside the Wall of light. As I approached them, my heart sank with a chilling realization. These were no living beings; they were an army of the undead.

Mangled and rotting corpses, grotesquely disfigured, stood in eerie formation, their lifeless eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the unyielding Wall of ice. Instinctively, I attempted to call upon my magic, a reflex honed through years of practice, but to my profound dismay, my spells failed to manifest. It was as though the arcane threads that once flowed effortlessly from me had been severed.

In a state of increasing panic, I transformed into an eagle, hoping that my avian form might offer me some advantage. I took to the skies, circling the grotesque assembly below, but they remained eerily still. Not a single member of this horrifying host so much as flinched in response to my presence.

Driven by a morbid curiosity and a desperate need to understand, I descended in a swift dive, aiming my talons at one of the corpse's head. My claws made contact, tearing through the rotting flesh, but the abomination showed no signs of life. It remained motionless, an empty vessel.

As I continued my flight over the undead legion, an unseen force seized my leg, like an unyielding grip of death itself. Despite my frantic attempts to break free by flapping my wings, I was inexorably pulled downward, drawn toward the sinister gathering below.

In that eerie moment, suspended between life and death, I beheld a figure both haunting and otherworldly. A man, skin as pale as freshly fallen snow, exuded a deadly beauty that sent shivers down my spine. His hand, raised towards me with an air of malevolent authority, commanded attention. Astride a reanimated horse, draped in armor as black as the darkest night, he held a menacing ice spear in his other hand. His presence was ethereal, in stark contrast to the grotesque and mundane visage of those who accompanied him.

Though the figures behind him bore a semblance to their leader, they lacked the chilling allure and uncanny charm that he possessed. Instead, they seemed ordinary, almost repulsively so. It was unmistakable; the being before me was the Night King himself.

As his icy grip clamped down on my clawed form, I experienced a pain unlike anything I had ever known. The touch of his frigid hand seared my flesh as though it were aflame. An agonizing scream tore from my throat, and in response, he demanded my identity with a screeching, shrill voice that pierced the very marrow of my bones.

"Who are you?"

In my paralyzed state, I could offer no answer. Instead, the pain in my ankle intensified, driving me to another anguished cry. With his screeching shrill voice, he asked again.

"Who are you?"

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and an elderly voice interjected. "You shouldn't have come here," he cautioned.

The Night King scoffed, addressing the unseen presence with a hint of contempt.

"Crow, you have grown bold in your old age. Are you so close to dying that you dare to stand before me?"

He ignored the Night King, and talked with a tone of wisdom and finality. "Go and don't come back; you are not ready." 

All I could see was a humanoid mist. With a forceful gesture, the old man tore me from the icy clutches of the Night King. It felt as though I were hurtling across the vast expanse of the North, a landscape flashing before my eyes. When I finally regained consciousness, I found myself back in the familiar embrace of Godswood, my screams echoing through the silent sanctuary.

The bluish mark, a malevolent handprint, etched upon my left ankle, served as a chilling reminder of the otherworldly encounter. It was all real; the Night King was real. It pulsed with dark magic, an insidious curse that sought to take root within me. Desperation clawed at me as I fought to resist its corrupting influence.

Summoning Sith with a sense of urgency, I issued a command, my voice strained and trembling. 

-Sith, quickly bring me a sheep, but do not harm it! Time is of the essence.-

-Yes, master! Right away.-

With every ounce of my willpower, I wrestled a massive monolith from the earth, its imposing presence casting eerie shadows in the dim light of the Godswood. My trembling hands worked feverishly, inscribing intricate runes onto its surface with great difficulty while I etched the sacred empowerment circle onto the monolith and the forest floor. The oppressive weight of the mark's curse bore down on me, a relentless force that sought to infiltrate my very being.

As I labored against the malevolent influence, Sith, my loyal companion, appeared with a sheep cradled gently in her bite, its frightened eyes reflecting the terror of its impending fate. The urgency of the situation left no room for hesitation. My first act was to summon the wildfire spirit, an elemental force that danced with flames. With focused intent, I cast the Cauterizing Flames, aiming to cleanse the corrupting magic. Yet, its effects were disappointingly feeble, the curse resisting even the flames' cleansing embrace.

Without a moment's hesitation, I took the life of the trembling sheep, its existence reduced to a puff of dusty remnants. The sacrificial offering served as a conduit for my next spell, "Abrarflamen (Life Blast)", a divine incantation that manifested as a brilliant blast of radiant light. The divine power crackled around me, bathing the sacred grove in a celestial glow.

But the curse was obstinate, its malevolence unwavering. Though the combination of divine light and the wildfire spirit's powerful flames made significant headway, the curse's dark tendrils persisted. Frustration welled within me as I grappled with forces beyond my comprehension.

In a desperate bid to subdue the curse, I refocused my energies on the monolith. No longer content with an expansive area of effect, I channeled my magic into a single, concentrated target. The 20-meter circle surrounding me began to shrink, and with each reduction in size, the intensity of the divine light grew exponentially.

Within the heart of this blinding beam, the curse was isolated, its grip weakened. Yet, as the minutes passed, it became evident that my strength was waning. I could not fully dispel the malevolence that had sought to claim me. Instead, all I could manage was to seal it away, trapping it within the confines of the mark.

Exhausted and drained, I collapsed onto the forest floor, consciousness slipping away like mist beneath the morning sun. The mark remained sealed, but it was a tenuous victory, its insidious presence still haunting my thoughts.