Chapter 8

In an instant, Jon and Daena found themselves transported to the very heart of a legendary conflict, a scene of such epic proportions it seemed to have been plucked straight from the pages of a fantastical tale.

An army of men draped in furs, their weapons made of dragonglass, stood on the battlefield. They were outnumbered three to one by a horde of the undead, who marched towards them with a relentless gait. The men were joined in their fight by giants, animals, and small green children, but their combined might was no match for the army of the dead.

The clash of steel and the roar of battle echoed through the air, filling Jon and Daena's ears with a symphony of destruction. The men, draped in furs, swung their dragonglass weapons with unbridled ferocity, striking down the undead with each powerful blow.

The giants, towering behemoths, used their immense strength to crush their enemies, sending them flying with every mighty strike. The animals and children fought with a cunning that belied their size, using their quickness to dodge and strike where their enemies were weakest.

Despite their valiant efforts, the horde of the undead seemed to be closing in, overwhelming them with sheer numbers. Jon and Daena watched the battle unfold, their eyes wide with horror. They could feel the fear and desperation of the men and their allies, and they knew that they were witnessing a moment that would change the course of history forever. They were powerless to help, but they could not look away from the epic struggle before them.

A burst of green light grabbed Jon and Daena's attention and they beheld a figure, a northern man, tall and imposing, with hair as dark as the midnight sky and eyes like storm clouds, gray and brooding. He held a hammer, its surface slick with the congealed blood of fallen enemies, in one hand, while the other wielded a wand, its tip crackling with raw magical energy. The revelation of a wizard in the midst of such violence and destruction sent a thrill of excitement and disbelief coursing through their veins, their hearts pounding with adrenaline.

"A wizard?!" They both exclaimed in unison, their eyes fixed on the mysterious northern wizard.

The wizard began to unleash a barrage of spells, each one more powerful than the last. Jon and Daena watched in awe as the wizard effortlessly decimated the undead horde, his magic effortlessly blasting them to pieces. The wizard's movements were graceful, yet deadly, and the sheer power he wielded was both awe-inspiring and frightening.

Amidst the chaos of the battle, they could hear someone shout, "Stark! Stark!" Others took up the cry, echoing it throughout the battlefield. The northern wizard, known as Stark, was a beacon of hope for mankind in the face of overwhelming odds.

Despite the danger he faced, he stood tall and fought for what he believed in, inspiring Jon and Daena with his bravery and determination. They couldn't help but feel a sense of fear for him, yet they were also filled with admiration for his unwavering spirit.

The throngs of the undead slowly stepped aside, revealing a figure of unyielding ice and the very essence of death. The Night King, a being of surpassing power and unparalleled terror, towered over the northern wizard, causing Jon and Daena to quiver with fear. His presence was like a physical weight, bearing down upon them with an overwhelming sense of dread and unease.

"The fabled Night King," whispered Daena, her voice trembling with fear. "We are witnessing the Battle of Dawn, the reason for the Wall to have been built. And that northern man, he is none other than Brandon the Builder."

The Night King's eyes were as cold as the Arctic, piercing and devoid of any emotion. His skin was pale as snow and his armor was as black as the midnight sky. His very presence was a harbinger of death and destruction, inspiring fear in even the bravest of warriors. The power he wielded was immense, and Jon and Daena could feel their own magic quail in his presence.

Jon quickly summoned the power of the Deathly Hallows and countered the aura of death of the Night King. Both Brandon and the enemy of mankind immediately turned to look into Jon and Daena's direction, startling the couple.

"That should not be possible, this is a memory! The Deathly Hallows cannot influence time." Jon shouted.

"Father, mother. It's me, James." Brandon said in a perfect english, just as surprised as them. "We will talk later" He added before leaping into action.

Brandon raised his hammer and wand, and with a battle cry, he cast a spell that summoned a surge of magical energy into the air. The energy crackled around him, and the army of the dead was momentarily pushed back.

Brandon stood face to face with the Night King, their eyes locked in a fierce stare. The Night King raised his sword, and with a shrilling roar, he charged forward. Brandon stood his ground, his wand at the ready. With a flick of his wrist, he cast a spell that sent a surge of magical energy into the air. The energy crackled around him, and the Night King was momentarily stunned.

Taking advantage of the moment, Brandon lunged forward, his wand tracing patterns in the air. Spells flew from his wand, striking the Night King with deadly precision. The Night King roared in anger, and he swung his sword in a deadly arc. But Brandon was too quick. He dodged the blow and countered with a spell that sent the Night King flying backwards.

The Night King was not one to be underestimated, and he quickly regained his footing. He summoned the power of the elements, calling forth a raging snowstorm that descended upon the battlefield. Ice spears struck James, but could not pierce his armor and he stood his ground, his wand glowing with power. He countered the Night King's ice magic with his own assortment of spells, the two of them locked in a battle of magic like nothing the world had ever seen.

The air was filled with the sounds of magic, spells being cast and countered, and the ground shook with the force of the battle. Brandon was a blur of motion, his wand moving in a deadly dance. He summoned the power of the elements, calling forth winds and storms to aid him in his fight. And finally, with a burst of power, he sent a spell flying towards the Night King, striking him with a force that sent him crashing to the ground and broke the creature's connection to the other undead, making them either drop lifelessly to the ground or explode in a shower of ice shards.

The Night King lay defeated, his army of the dead vanquished. Brandon stood over him, panting and covered in sweat. He had done it. He had defeated the greatest enemy of Westeros, and secured the safety of the land. It was a battle for the ages, and one that would be remembered for generations to come. Brandon had proven himself a master of magic, a true hero of the northerns.

Just as Brandon was about to deliver the final blow to the Night King, the creature erupted into a shower of ice, just like his minions. But amidst the chaos, something sinister stirred. A dark shade slithered out of the Night King's body, escaping into the Land of Always Winter. The shade was a harbinger of evil, a manifestation of the Night King's power, and it was a chilling reminder to all spectators that the battle was far from over.

Jon and Daena were left speechless as they watched the scene unfold before them. Suddenly, Brandon waved his wand, and time seemed to stand still. The only exceptions were the couple and Brandon himself. The surroundings changed, and they found themselves inside a room. The walls were adorned with engravings of wolves, revealing that they were at Winterfell, but in a time long past.

The imposing figure of a now very old with grey hair and beard Brandon was sitting in a chair opposite to the couple.

"Father, mother," Brandon began, his voice weary and filled with emotion. "I do not know how you have come here, nor do I know what you look like in this moment. All I can feel is your magical presence." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "What you have seen is the battle against the final enemy of mankind, the Night King. A twisted being that I failed to vanquish, and that has hidden away in places I cannot reach."

Daena started to speak, but Brandon held up his hand, silencing her. "In my pursuit of a powerful magical item to help me defeat the Night King, I stumbled upon our old family trunk on the Isle of Faces. Over the following decades, I made extensive upgrades to the trunk, adding everything magical I could get my hands on. I hope you make good use of its contents."

Brandon's voice grew weaker, and he coughed, struggling for breath. "I don't have much time left, my magic is fading or maybe it's my body, I don't know anymore. I may never have gotten over the fact that I was killed by Draco Malfoy, but I wouldn't want to return to our world either."

He paused, a sad smile crossing his face. "My only regret is that I cannot show you your grandchildren. You would love them, but they would not understand how I could come from another world."

Daena's body was wracked with sobs as she struggled to form words through her tears. Jon's own eyes were filled with mist as he replied, his voice heavy with emotion, "We love you too, Brandon. We'll make sure our family is taken care of."

With a warm and radiant gleam, Brandon's countenance was alight with a smile so brilliant, it seemed to radiate a warmth that reached the very depths of Jon and Daena's hearts. Though his eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now tired and weary, they shimmered with unshed tears, as if they too were holding back the flood of emotions that threatened to pour out.

The couple gazed upon the visage of their beloved son, and felt their hearts overflow with a love so pure and fierce, it left them feeling both whole and shattered at the same time. The reality that they had finally found him, only to lose him all over again, was a cruel twist of fate that left them grappling with a mixture of bittersweet emotions.

With the memory fading into nothingness, Jon and Daena felt as though they were being torn away from their beloved son. In a desperate grasp, they clung to their son and each other, unwilling to let go of the precious moment. The image of Brandon's radiant smile burned brightly in their minds, a beacon of their love and devotion.

As the last remnants of the memory disappeared, the couple found themselves holding each other in a tender embrace, tears streaming down their faces. The pensieve lay silent and still beside them.