Chapter 510: Hope in Despair

The snow fell harder, a thick white curtain blotting out the moon.

All that could be seen was a world of white.

With the collapse of the Wall, the winds and snow from the Land of Always Winter surged southward unchecked, blanketing forests, fields, and villages.

But worse than the snowstorm were the White Walkers and their undead army, who brought death and despair in their wake.

"Run!" Mance Rayder's shout jolted his dazed men back to reality. "Head south! Take everyone, past the Neck!"

"But Caesar only allowed us to stay in the Wolfswood. He won't let us pass unless we kneel to him—"

"The Wall has fallen! Caesar has bigger problems than us. Run, or we'll all die when the White Walkers get here!"

The Wildling leaders exchanged uncertain glances, but none dared delay further. They hurried off to gather their people for a southern retreat.

They had all witnessed the horrors of the White Walkers and knew that without the Wall, humanity stood no chance against those monsters.

Escape was the only sensible choice.

Yet, as they prepared to flee, a troubling question lingered in their hearts:

Where can humanity run to?

The White Walkers would follow the snowstorm south, bringing extreme cold and death.

Without someone to stop them, the terror of winter would reach even beyond the Neck.

But for now, the Wildlings were consumed by the terror of the Wall's fall. Mance Rayder's urgency filled their minds with thoughts of escape.

After dismissing his men, Mance turned to find his wife, Dalla. Before he could leave, Eddard Stark, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, stormed toward him.

Without a word, Eddard grabbed Mance by the collar, his voice sharp with accusation:

"Mance! Was it you who blew the horn just now? That was the true Horn of Winter, wasn't it?"

"My horn was burned by Caesar. Everyone saw it," Mance replied evenly.

"That was a fake! You deceived us all!"

"Fine," Mance admitted, sighing. "I'll tell you the truth. Even I don't know if that horn was real.

We searched the Frostfangs thoroughly and found only a giant's tomb. Inside it was a massive horn.

Whether it was the true Horn of Winter… only the gods know. But I had no choice. I needed the Night's Watch to open the gates and let us pass south, so I claimed it was the real horn.

The rest, you know—Caesar burned the horn."

"Then where is the real Horn of Winter?"

"How would I know?" Mance retorted, shoving Eddard's hand away. "It's certainly not with us Wildlings."

"He's lying!" Ser Alliser Thorne hissed, drawing his sword. "These savages can never be trusted. We should kill every last one of them!"

Mance sneered. "Don't project your southern treachery onto us."

"Who are you calling treacherous?" Alliser snapped, raising his sword.

Tensions flared. The Night's Watch soldiers accompanying Eddard drew their blades, while the Wildlings gripped their weapons, ready for a fight.

The standoff was broken by a sudden, bone-chilling cry:

"The White Walkers are here! The White Walkers are here!"

Both sides turned north. Through the lingering mist of the collapsed Wall, a dark line appeared on the horizon.

It was an unending horde of shambling corpses, moving with terrifying speed, carried by the howling northern wind.

Mance pointed toward the approaching army and shouted:

"Look! That is the enemy! The enemy of all humanity! Don't waste your swords on the wrong targets!"

Alliser opened his mouth to argue, but Eddard raised his hand to stop him.

The Lord Commander's voice was steady as he issued his order:

"The enemies of the Night's Watch are always to the north. Sound the horn and prepare for battle!"

"But Lord Stark, without the Wall, how can we hold back an army of the dead?" someone protested.

"It is our duty!" Eddard snapped.

Mance stepped forward, speaking with uncharacteristic calm:

"The Wall spans thousands of miles. With the forces we have here, we cannot possibly defend such a long line.

Lord Stark, I admire your courage, but the wisest course of action is to retreat. Rally the southern armies, and establish a new defensive line at a more strategic location. Only then can we stop the White Walkers."

Eddard considered Mance's words and realized he was right.

"We'll need a rearguard to buy time for the main forces to retreat," he said grimly. Without waiting for a response, he turned back toward Castle Black.

It was strange: despite the Wall's collapse, Castle Black had been left untouched. The massive ice barrier had disintegrated into nothing more than mist, vanishing without a trace.

But without the Wall's protection, Castle Black was now exposed—vulnerable and defenseless against the advancing undead horde.

Inside the castle, chaos reigned. Night's Watch brothers scrambled to prepare, while some tried to gather their belongings and flee south.

Standing in the southern courtyard, Eddard barked commands:

"Blow the horn! Assemble the troops!"

"Yes, Lord Stark."

He turned to the maester.

"Release all the ravens. Send word to King's Landing and every southern city. Tell them the Wall has fallen, and the White Walkers are coming!"

"Yes, my lord!"

As Eddard scanned the crowd, he didn't see his eldest son, Robb. Instead, Jon Snow ran toward him, his face pale with dread.

"Jon, where is Robb?"

"Robb… he…" Jon hesitated, unsure how to explain.

But with the undead army fast approaching, Jon steeled himself and pulled Eddard aside to recount what had happened.

When Jon finished his tale, even Eddard Stark—a man who had weathered countless storms—stood in stunned silence.

"You're saying Robb blew the Horn of Winter?"

"Yes, Father," Jon said quietly. "But I don't think it was truly him. The real Robb wouldn't do something like that. He wouldn't have known about the horn I found at the Fist of the First Men… and he wouldn't have shattered into ice."

Eddard's lips moved as if to speak, but no words came.

After a moment, he regained his composure. His expression hardened.

"Jon Snow," Eddard said firmly, "organize the Night's Watch supply teams and prepare for evacuation."

"And you, Father?"

"I will stay and fight. It is the duty of the Night's Watch."

"But without the Wall, we can't hold the line—"

"Our home is behind us. The Seven Kingdoms are behind us," Eddard interrupted. "Even if we're doomed to fail, we must buy them time."

Jon opened his mouth to protest, but Eddard cut him off:

"This is an order, Jon Snow. Not a discussion."

"…Yes, my lord," Jon said reluctantly.

Eddard placed a hand on Jon's shoulder, his tone softening.

"Your task is not just to retreat. You must also prevent the northern lords from fleeing south in chaos. It is a heavy burden, but I trust you."

Jon nodded solemnly.

Eddard left Jon behind and strode to the disorganized assembly of Night's Watchmen. The soldiers were scattered, panicked, and far fewer in number than they should have been.

There was no time to chase down deserters or restore order. Eddard turned his gaze northward.

In the distance, the horde of wights stretched endlessly, a black wave surging across the snowy plains.

The enemy was too numerous. Too strong.

The defenders lacked soldiers and weapons capable of stopping the White Walkers. The fall of the Wall had come too quickly—southern armies hadn't arrived, and the supply of dragonglass weapons was far from complete.

Even Eddard Stark, with his unshakable resolve, felt despair creeping into his heart.

But retreat wasn't an option.

This was his duty as the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. It was his honor as a Stark of Winterfell.

And now, the burden of his son's death weighed heavy on him.

If Robb had truly blown the Horn of Winter, intentionally or not, then the Stark's bore the responsibility for what had happened.

For that, Eddard could not back down.

A squire brought Eddard his horse, while a standard-bearer unfurled the banners of House Stark and the Night's Watch behind him.

Before mounting, Eddard was approached by Mance Rayder and a group of Wildling warriors.

"Eddard Stark," Mance said. "We Free Folk have those unafraid to die. Today, we'll fight alongside you under your command."

Eddard nodded solemnly. "Good."

He turned to the gathered soldiers and raised his voice.

"I know you're afraid.

So am I.

To be honest, my heart races like a frightened deer, and my gut feels like a snake has coiled inside it.

But we cannot retreat!

Behind us are the Seven Kingdoms. Villages, castles, mothers, children… Everything we hold dear is behind us.

Fear is nothing to be ashamed of—unless you let it control you.

This is not just a battle; this is the war between humanity and the White Walkers.

There is no force in this world more terrible or destructive than war.

But there is also nothing more glorious.

Some of us will die in this war. But many more will live because of our sacrifice.

And years from now, when this war is over, you will be remembered as heroes.

Your names will be sung by bards for generations to come.

Now, say your prayers."

Eddard bowed his head.

He prayed to the Old Gods for the safety of his people, for strength and wisdom, and most of all—for victory.

The howling wind carried with it the stench of decay, the scent of death, and the taste of fear.

The undead horde advanced relentlessly, unchecked by the absence of the Wall.

Eddard mounted his horse and joined the cavalry at the vanguard of the defenders.

"When the horn sounds for the charge, follow my banner," he commanded. "If I fall, Ser Denys Mallister will take command. If Ser Denys falls, Mance Rayder will lead. If…"

"If we all fall," Mance interrupted grimly, "then the battle is lost."

Eddard didn't argue. Mance was right.

This battle was already a lost cause. Everyone knew it, but no one said it aloud.

Defeat wasn't something you acknowledged before a fight.

Eddard remembered his father's teachings: The gods may be listening.

He prayed silently that they truly were.

Suddenly, someone began reciting the Night's Watch oath:

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death…"

The voice was joined by another. Then another.

Soon, dozens, then hundreds of voices echoed the words. Even some of the Wildlings joined in.

Eddard recited the oath as well, his voice steady and resolute.

When the final words—"I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come"—were spoken, Eddard drew his sword and raised it high.

He took a deep breath, ready to give the command to charge.

But before he could, Mance Rayder shouted:

"Look! What's that?"

Eddard froze and looked up.

Everyone turned their eyes skyward.

Through the storm of snow and wind, a white shadow descended rapidly.

A burst of fire erupted in the sky, its orange and yellow glow piercing the snowy veil.

For a moment, Eddard feared the wind would snuff it out.

But the fire didn't falter.

It grew brighter, fiercer, blazing like a fiery spear plunging from the heavens into the heart of the undead army.

Boom!

The fire erupted on the icy plain, an explosion of light and heat that sent plumes of steam and smoke into the air.

Gasps of awe rippled through the defenders, followed by cheers.

"Caesar! His Majesty Caesar is here!"

"Caesar has arrived!"

Countless sounds burst out from thousands of lips and teeth, converging into one sound.

The sound resounded through the sky, shattering the ice and snow.

Eddard felt the weight of despair lift from his heart. He lowered his visor, raised his shield, and slipped his arm through its strap.

The cold air stung his lungs, but it smelled sweet, the smell of fire, the smell of victory.

"May the gods watch over us!" Eddard roared.

With the white dragon soaring overhead and fire lighting the battlefield, Eddard Stark gave the order:

"Charge!"

(End of Chapter)