Rayder sat cross-legged within the tent, eyes closed, mind reaching into the strange white threads he had begun to perceive.
The specks of light flowing along them were alive—messages, power, something deeper. When he touched his bond with the dragons, the specks raced like fire through glass tubes, too fast to follow. The sight reminded him of fiber-optic cables from his former world: signals racing invisibly, binding distant minds.
"These threads… they're bridges," he murmured. "Between me and them. Between master and servant. Between life and death."
He reached out, trying to seize one. His hand passed through, as though clutching smoke. Within his body he felt the same sparks, elusive, resisting his will. He remembered the golden blaze that had burned away the Night King's influence in the dream and tried to summon it again.
Consciousness brushed against the threads like clumsy fingers groping through thick liquid. Every attempt exhausted him, leaving his mind aching as if he'd run for miles. Yet each failure taught him more—how the energy flowed, how it resisted, how it might one day be bent.
He smiled faintly despite the fatigue. A beginning. No more than that, but still—progress.
Then Kidora's head thrust into the tent. Three sets of golden eyes gleamed, urgent, their warning loud in Rayder's mind.
Rayder was on his feet in an instant. Together they rushed to the cliff's edge.
Below, the valley boiled with movement. Wights—hundreds, thousands—climbed the slopes like ants swarming honey. Weapons clattered in skeletal hands. And among them, at the very center, strode a figure clad in ice-crystal armor.
The Night King.
His eyes blazed blue fire, fixed on Rayder with a fury cold enough to freeze marrow. To him, Rayder was not an enemy general, nor even prey. He was a thief—one who had dared steal what belonged only to him.
Their gazes locked.
Rayder felt the weight of it, but he did not flinch. His grip tightened on his sword. Calmness steadied his breath. So. He's come himself.
He turned to Kidora through their bond. If he throws the spear, intercept. Don't hesitate.
The dragon's heads bobbed in unison, a low growl vibrating the earth.
Rayder mounted the black dragon, Im. If destruction was needed, Im's flame was unmatched. Yigen took the sky beside him, while Kidora held back, poised to strike when needed.
The three dragons launched as one, wings tearing at the air. Fire rained down, waves of it rolling across the slope. The wights burned in swathes, collapsing into ash, the snow running black with cinders.
The Night King did not falter. He raised his sword, cold light glinting, and the swarm pressed harder. Corpses piled upon corpses, climbing each other's bodies to reach the dragons.
For the first time, his fury showed.
He sensed it—something was wrong. The power in his wights did not return to him upon their destruction. The energy dissolved into nothing. Worse, some of it had been drawn elsewhere—stolen, siphoned away. Into Rayder.
His burning eyes narrowed. Rage kindled. This was not simply an intruder. This was a rival.
He raised a hand, summoning an Other. A spear of flawless blue ice was placed in his palm. The Night King's gaze lifted, fixing on Yigen, the largest dragon.
He moved with terrifying swiftness, arm snapping forward.
The spear became a streak of frozen light, screaming through the air toward Yigen's exposed belly.
Rayder's heart clenched—too fast!
But before the weapon struck, Kidora's left head shot out like lightning. Jaws snapped shut around the spear, catching it mid-flight.
The impact shook the dragon's skull, shards of frost exploding outward. Kidora roared, three throats bellowing as one, but its grip held firm. The weapon dissolved into icy fragments between its fangs.
On the ground, the Night King's expression hardened, the faintest crack in his perfect calm. His prey had defied him.
Above, Rayder exhaled, sweat beading his brow. His bond with Kidora pulsed with shared adrenaline.
The battle was far from over.
But for the first time, the Night King knew: this enemy was no ordinary man.
And Rayder, ice spear fragments glittering below him, knew the same of the king of the dead.
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