After emerging from the canyon, Kael let out a long breath. That feeling of being surrounded by thousands of skeletal soldiers had nearly made his scalp go numb.
Though he was technically a skeleton himself now, his soul was still human. That dissonance made the experience deeply unsettling.
Once outside, Kael put his hands on his hips and let out a self-satisfied laugh.
"Heh heh heh… The Night King, who terrorized the continent for thousands of years, wasn't all that after all. I got out with barely any effort."
He basked in his triumph for a moment, then his face slowly clouded over with worry.
Sure, he was out… but now what? Where could he even begin to figure out what point the story was at?
There were only four types of beings who lingered on the Everfrost Tundra for long periods of time.
First, of course, were the White Walkers—the Night King's army. They were trapped north of the Wall, unable to pass due to the ancient wards and magic beneath it. Bound to this frozen wasteland, they lived in a kind of undead limbo.
Second were the Night's Watch, guardians of the Wall. Their duty was to maintain the barrier and fend off wildling attacks.
Third came the wildlings—native inhabitants of the lands beyond the Wall. Shaped by the harsh, icy wilderness, they were strong, brutal, and lived in scattered tribal groups.
The fourth was a little more special—almost mythical in the eyes of the people of Westeros: the Children of the Forest.
Kael knew they were real.
Green-skinned, genderless, they were akin to elves or druids. Said to be the first intelligent race of the world, the Children predated even the First Men.
In ancient times, humans and the Children had interacted, but as humanity expanded, the Children were pushed deeper and deeper into the Everfrost.
In a desperate move to stop the advance of mankind, the leaders of the Children—known as the Greenseers—used magic to forge a special piece of dragonglass.
They plunged that crystal into the chest of a First Man, and thus, the first White Walker was born: the Night King.
But as the Night King's power grew, so did his self-awareness. He became harder to control.
Eventually, he turned on his creators.
With the full might of his undead army, he nearly wiped out the Children of the Forest.
Since awakening, the Night King had hated everything—humans, the Children, the world itself. His goal was to bring about the extinction of all life, to transform the world into a realm of the dead.
In addition to his physical might, he inherited from the Greenseers an uncanny power: knowledge of all that had occurred in the past and the present.
But unlike the Greenseers, he could not see the future.
And he desperately wanted to.
So after exterminating most of the Children, he frantically sought the one thing he lacked: the remaining Greenseer.
That Greenseer had long since vanished.
He hid beneath a massive weirwood tree, cloaked by an ancient magic barrier—one even the Night King couldn't penetrate.
Any undead who drew near would be severed from his control and perish instantly. For centuries, no White Walker had returned from that place, and so it remained undiscovered.
Kael's eyes lit up at the thought—what if he found the Greenseer?
Surely the seer could sever Kael's connection to the Night King. If the Night King died afterward, Kael wouldn't perish with him.
That would solve everything.
But then his excitement dimmed.
"Who am I kidding? The Night King's been searching for thousands of years and found nothing. What makes me think I can do better?"
He wasn't about to pretend he had some kind of protagonist aura. Protagonists didn't wake up as cannon-fodder skeletons.
The only clue he had was that the Greenseer hid beneath a massive weirwood tree. Bran Stark had found the place, but only with the guidance of the Three-Eyed Raven.
Out here in this fog-choked tundra, with visibility reduced to just a few hundred meters, that tree might as well be on another planet.
Kael sighed.
Time for plan B.
The Night's Watch and the wildlings were out of the question.
No matter how they dressed it up, they were still humans. And humans? Their first instinct when seeing a White Walker was to attack. No discussion, no second chances.
That left only one option: the Night King himself.
As the king of the undead, he wasn't likely to casually destroy his own soldiers. But if he learned that one of his skeletons had developed self-awareness…
Kael shuddered.
"Maybe he'll see potential in me…" he muttered, rubbing his chin. "He's been alone for so long. No one to talk to. He must be lonely."
It wasn't impossible. But Kael had to be prepared for the worst.
What if the Night King decided he was a threat and snapped his neck the moment they met?
Kael's spine—or what remained of it—tingled at the thought.
"Ugh, forget it. One step at a time," he grumbled. "This is all so cursed."
All four paths seemed blocked. Kael was starting to feel the chill of hopelessness, despite not having a body that could even feel cold.
Sticking with the Night King might actually be the safest bet.
Even if by some miracle he found the Greenseer's hiding place, he'd probably be disintegrated by the same magical defenses that destroyed every other undead that tried to approach.
He'd rather try talking to the Night King.
At least the Night King wouldn't immediately kill him. He might wait… might listen…
Suddenly, an idea sparked in Kael's mind.
Wait a second… the Night King knows the past and present. But I know the future.
"I could be his advisor," Kael whispered, eyes widening. "He died because Arya Stark stabbed him. But I know that! I could help him avoid it! That's my leverage!"
If the Night King lived, Kael lived. Simple as that.
He didn't agree with the Night King's plan to extinguish all life, but that didn't matter right now. Survival came first. Once he had a solid footing, maybe then he could think about stopping the end of the world.
But right now? He had to stay alive.
With everything suddenly so clear, Kael strutted forward, full of confidence, following the same path the Night King had taken earlier.
Now he didn't care about being spotted.
In fact, he hoped he would get noticed. Maybe one of the Night King's elite would escort him back for an audience.
But just a few steps into his march, Kael heard a strange sound above.
"Grah! Grah! Grah!"
He looked up—and his eyes widened.
A murder of crows was circling overhead, cawing ominously as they spiraled tighter and tighter above him.
Kael paled—metaphorically.
"The Three-Eyed Raven!"