━━━━ CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

745 28 2
                                    

˖*°࿐ chapter fifty-seven

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

˖*°࿐ chapter fifty-seven.
lvii. THE NIGHT KING


Semar of Sluphis is Thoros of Myr
Styrund (the 'U' is pronounced like the one in 'Tormund') Cassel is Tormund Giantsbane
Artor Bole is Sandor McGlane


THE MEN THAT WENT BEYOND THE WALL WERE FIGHTING for their lives, swinging their swords and killing the Dead that came near them, Semar of Sluphis using his flaming sword, Tobin using LongClaw ― which was made from Krefson steel, one of the most valuable metals in the world ― Styrund was swinging a sword he stole from a soldier, and Allister was using his own sword ― the one that has fought for Laelia's life. They all wore heavy pelts and boots, the Night King and his White Walkers making the frigid winter air colder than it already was. They cut through bone and withered skin, the old clothes they all died in was tattered and were left in rags. Styrund threw a dead man on the ground, using the sword to decapitate him, efficiently killing the thing. . . or, at least he thought it was a man.

Semar impaled another in the chest, the clothes catching fire, his one eye watching it burn with satisfaction. He pulled it out and let it run away, the King in the North running towards it and slashing the head off its shoulders. He begins shaking the shoulders of a man that laid on the ground, a bag covering his head and ropes tied his wrists and ankles together, and when he felt the hand of a Dead soldier, he immediately acted and swung his sword, killing the already dead person. When he impaled his sword through another, it burst in a small explosion of bones, the bones that made up the ribcage, head, spine, and legs flying every which way. One man that was fighting alongside the King's side was repeatedly bitten and no one made a move to save him; it was too late to save the poor guy. They all kept killing the others, though, Tobin yelling, "Fall back!" He repeated the phrase, Styrund saying, "Come on." He then began wrestling with a Dead soldier, trying to throw him off as Artor Bole and Allister the Zada watched the Army come closer; there was too many for them to kill. Seven men against an army, it screamed one word in their faces: impossible. If Laelia were here, she would have easily killed them. Styrund was overtaken by too many Dead men, trying to fight them off as his scalp began to bleed, crimson liquid running into his left eye and impairing him from seeing out of the side.

Allister saw this, and, being a man of honor and virtue, kills those that prevented him from getting to the Wildling. "Help me!" Styrund screams as he throws one off but another replaces him. Two Dead men burst out of a hole in the ice, water splashing everywhere as they shook their heads, hands reaching for any purchase, trying to pull themselves out. Styrund is pinned, all of them trying to pull him into the water, but soon enough Artor came through and killed the two on top of him, grabbing the Wildling and swinging his sword, killing more men. Allister pulled him back, Tobin's cries filling their ears as he continues executing more. They were losing hope; they were losing the battle.

khaleesi ― 𝐋. 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐅𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍Where stories live. Discover now