Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 451 The Old Dragon's Last Dance

The cold wind was like a knife, carrying ice crystals that lashed against the walls of the Black Castle, making a soft, crackling sound like bones grinding together.

Daniel Mellist stood atop the battlements, his black cloak billowing in the wind, his breath condensing into frost on his beard. His gaze was fixed on the north, where the deep blue tide was slowly rising.

Corpse demon.

Tens of thousands of ghouls.

Their footsteps were orderly and heavy, shattering the thin ice on the frozen ground. Newly formed ice crystal armor covered their decaying bones, and ghostly blue flames burned in their empty eye sockets. The weapons in their hands were of various shapes and sizes: ice crystal spears, rusted iron swords, and even broken bone spikes, but their numbers were enough to overwhelm everything.

Daniel's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, trembling slightly with tension.

"Archers, prepare!" His shout pierced through the wind and snow.

The Night's Watch brothers silently drew their longbows, the arrows tipped with strips of cloth soaked in oil. Behind them, the veterans of the North stood in formation, their breath condensing into white mist in the cold air.

Astor Stark stood at the front, ice shards clinging to his beard, the family heirloom greatsword "Ice" gleaming coldly in the dim light. His brother Rickard stood beside him, gripping a heavy battle axe, its blade engraved with ancient runes. It had been retrieved from the Stark family crypt by Lord Adler before Rickard's departure, supposedly belonging to Aard the Wolf, King of Winter, six thousand years ago, and inscribed with the magic of the Children of the Forest.

"The North will never forget," Astor whispered, his voice hoarse but firm. "The North will never yield."

Rickard sneered, his breath swirling in the air: "Today, we'll teach these monsters a lesson—the Great Wall is not a boundary they can cross."

The Night's Watch brothers on the city wall lit their arrows, the flames flickering in the wind and snow, yet stubbornly refusing to go out.

"Fire arrows!"

In an instant, hundreds of burning arrows pierced the sky, falling like meteors into the horde of ghouls. Flames exploded, and crimson light engulfed the front ranks of ghouls, burning them into twisted, charred remains. But more ghouls trampled over the remains of their comrades and continued their advance.

"Keep the fire going," Daniel ordered again.

The Night's Watch archers and veterans from the North took turns firing flaming arrows, tearing a burning rift through the horde of wights.

But the ghouls showed no fear, no retreat. They simply advanced in silence, treading on flames, on the ashes of their companions, on every obstacle, toward the Wall.

Far to the north, deep in the snow and wind, the ice mage lords were coldly observing all of this.

They are not in a hurry.

They don't need to rush.

The ever-growing power of ice magic will inevitably bury the flames; this is the will of Heaven.

The makeshift platform at Black Castle was also covered in snow. The hunched figure of the Great Shadowbinder, Quello, stood on the platform, his grey robes fluttering in the wind. He slowly raised his withered fingers, and the shadows on the ground suddenly began to writhe as if alive. The condemned prisoners behind Quello rolled their eyes and collapsed to the ground, unable to rise.

With the magical power of the Great Wall, Quiro is now incredibly powerful.

All he needs is life to use magic that he could never have performed before.

"The shadows heed my call."

As soon as the hoarse incantation ended, dozens of jet-black tentacles suddenly sprang from the snow, entangling the charging ghouls. The terrifying undead struggled, their decaying bones creaking and grinding, yet they were still dragged inch by inch into the suddenly opened black abyss.

Not far away, Melisandre stood motionless like a statue. Her red robes remained motionless in the wind and snow, as if an invisible barrier kept the cold at bay. A ruby ​​necklace glittered around her neck, giving her pale skin a rosy glow.

"Flames!"

As she chanted, a ball of blazing white flame danced in her palm. With a gentle breath, the flame split into hundreds and thousands of sparks, streaking across the battlefield like meteors, landing precisely on the Night's Watch's swords and arrows. The black iron instantly ignited with an inextinguishable flame, illuminating the warriors' astonished faces. "This...this is..." a young Night's Watchman stammered.

“Take up your sword, child.” Melisandre’s voice was gentle yet undeniable. “Today, you will become the blade of fire.”

Her gaze fell upon the burning wall of fire beyond the Great Wall. Without hesitation, the woman in the red robe gouged out her own eyeballs and threw them into the distance.

The wall of fire seemed to gain power, burning even more fiercely.

Quello's shadowy tentacles shredded a row of wights, and a continuous shadow formed a preliminary barrier beyond the Wall. He squinted his cloudy eyes, gazing at the rear of the wight army in the distance.

“Something’s not right,” he hissed. “The real threat isn’t here.”

Melisandre's remaining red eyes flickered slightly: "The Ice Mage Lord is observing."

Before she could finish speaking, a biting wind suddenly swept across the battlefield. The weapons enchanted by fire flickered erratically, and several Night Watchmen watched in horror as the flames on their swords were gradually covered by frost.

Quello sneered, slamming his bone staff into the snow. A dozen more condemned prisoners collapsed, their eyes rolling back in their heads. Shadows surged forth like a tide, intertwining with the flames Melisandre summoned once more. The walls of shadow and fire flared up again, forcing three pale figures riding ice spiders to retreat.

“They want to break the blessing spell and our defenses,” Melisandre whispered, the crack in the ruby ​​widening further.

Quello gasped for breath, his body trembling slightly beneath his grey robe: "These monsters are more cunning than the legends say. If Prince Longzel were here, he could have held out longer."

Despite the numerous sacrifices, cracks still appeared in Quiro's crystal heart, which seemed on the verge of shattering at any moment.

A deafening dragon's roar suddenly echoed through the sky. The Shadow Nightmare's massive body swept across the battlefield, casting a shadow of death. The ice mage lords finally showed a hint of hesitation and slowly retreated into the snowstorm.

Melisandre stared in the direction they had disappeared, the ruby's light flickering: "This game has only just begun."

Her gaze shifted to the dragon knights taking flight, and she silently bestowed a blessing upon them.

The fierce wind tore at Ray's silver braids, and the lines etched on his face by a century of hardship appeared even deeper in the cold wind. Shadow's jagged, bony wings ripped through the air, producing a teeth-grinding screeching sound. The old man's withered fingers gripped the reins tightly, his eyes cloudy but unwavering.

"Charge!" A hoarse roar burst from Ray's throat.

The Shadow Nightmare's response shook the heavens and earth. The emaciated black dragon suddenly stretched out its body. When it opened its jaws, what spewed forth was not ordinary dragon flame, but a terrifying, deathly white torrent of fire. Wherever that flame passed, even the falling snowflakes vanished into nothingness.

The entire sky trembled the moment the massive ice dragon's icy breath collided with the white flames. The ice dragon's crystalline scales reflected Ray's cold, stern face, and the old man precisely caught the fleeting panic in the other's eyes. Shadow Nightmare's tail hammer struck like a scorpion's sting, piercing the chest of the ice mage lord on the dragon's back with a crisp, shattering sound. The subsequent ghastly white flames instantly engulfed the ice mage lord.

“First one, well done!” Ray whispered to the vaporizing enemy.

Without the Ice Mage Lord's magic, the Ice Dragon was unable to maintain its flight and had to fall back to the ground.

The second ice dragon's attack came silently. But Shadow Nightmare's sudden reversal caused Ray's white whiskers to flutter upwards. The battle between the winged dragon and the wingless dragon was like art, but in the end, Shadow Nightmare prevailed. Pale dragonfire engulfed the ice mage who was keeping the ice dragon flying, while the ice dragon was powerless against Shadow Nightmare's sharp teeth. Its head drew a perfect arc in the air, crashing to the ground and smashing the charging ghoul mammoth.

The Night Knight's ice sword, barely raised, was frozen in its charging stance. The wind pressure generated by Shadow Nightmare's dive cleaved deep furrows in the snow, and after the white flames, nothing remained.

“One left. We can’t let it interfere with the children.” The old man’s cloudy purple eyes locked onto the last ice dragon in his target. Shadow Nightmare let out a grating screech that sounded almost like laughter, spread its wings, and pounced on the prey that was trying to escape back into the clouds. When its claws tore open the ice dragon’s belly, what fell from the sky was not blood, but icy entrails that shimmered with blue light.

Ray suddenly coughed violently, a trace of silver-red blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. But a long-lost smile appeared on his age-spotted face, the look of a centenarian reminiscing about his youth. He hoped that when Shadow's dragon wings swept over the Wall's arrow towers, the Night's Watch would see not a fading hero, but the boy who once rode a young dragon through the Blood Dragon Dance to patrol the castle, the young knight who, though young, had already rendered meritorious service.

“Let’s go back.” Ray patted his mount’s protruding ribs. “Let the young people earn some battle merits too.” He spoke loudly on purpose so that the rookies on the city wall could hear him. But Shadow Nightmare knew that the old man was almost at his limit.

(End of this chapter)