In the cave of ice and rock, a bonfire burned quietly. Nearby, the enormous ice spider sulked because its own webbing was being used as fuel for the fire, and Popsicle was quite upset about it.
However, there was no helping it; the gathered firewood was limited. Moreover, even with the fire, Merek felt an exceptional chill, as he was still a normal man. Thorfinn even tossed one of his own layers of clothing to Merek to wear.
The flames licked at the body of one of the ice spiders. Thorfinn knew where its poison sac was; after removing it, the creature should be safe to eat. They had no other choice, as Thorfinn and Merek had long since jettisoned their emergency rations to reduce weight and run faster, pushing themselves to the limit.
Thorfinn had now formally acquired his Skinchanger's third form, the ice spider Popsicle. There was some contention about calling it his third form, considering this was the companion with whom he had first established a connection, even if he couldn't distinguish whether the memories were dreams or illusions back then. Yet, it was now certain that Thorfinn had three animal companions. With Popsicle by his side, their safety was at least assured.
The name was a bit childish, given he had named it when he was just a few years old, but because it held such sentimental value, Thorfinn had simply continued to call the ice spider by that name.
The first time he used the 'Aptitude Augmentation' spell to stimulate its intelligence, it became noticeably wiser and more emotionally rich.
The spell, it seemed, could be used repeatedly to increase intelligence and mental strength. Since discovering this, Thorfinn had been using it on his shadowcat, Alpha, and Lady Owl, and now his third form, Popsicle, had also received the benefit. She was a little spider-girl, as only female ice spiders have the chance to grow to this size; the males are always smaller. Popsicle was vicious toward enemies but extremely gentle with friends.
Speaking of which, Alpha had become separated from Thorfinn and Merek. It hadn't run away; Thorfinn had driven it off. In a fight like the one they'd fled, the shadowcat couldn't play a decisive role and was better off gone. At least they would be safer that way, wouldn't they?
The nights Beyond the Wall are especially cold, and this is even truer in the far North. Merek and Thorfinn had been running for a long time, yet they forced themselves to wait for the food to cook. If they didn't eat something now, it was debatable whether they would wake up tomorrow.
Merek finally gave in to his curiosity and asked, "Thorfinn, what's the truth about you and this ice spider? Also, how are you so familiar with this terrain?"
Thorfinn replied, "It's because of those dreams. Ever since I was a child, I've had strange dreams every so often: dreams of becoming a bird, becoming a goat, becoming a wolf... and becoming an ice spider. The dream of turning into an ice spider was the one that interested me the most.
"I even doubted myself, after all, Darie told me ice spiders only existed in stories, and even Boro told me, 'There has never been a Skinchanger who controlled an ice spider.' So I put it all down to my own imagination. It wasn't until I came Beyond the Wall that I discovered ice spiders were real...
"That tree, that familiar sight was as beautiful as a fairy tale. I'll never forget it! So when I saw that familiar great tree, I decided to come here. I was lucky; she hadn't left this place. Even though I'd forgotten her long ago, she hadn't forgotten me. I called her Popsicle when I was a child, and I'll call her Popsicle now!"
As he spoke, Thorfinn couldn't help but pat the giant ice spider resting beside him, sighing, "It's been years, and you've grown into such a big creature. It's a miracle." The ice spider lazily lifted a leg in response to Thorfinn, looking as unenergetic as she used to on those sunbathing afternoons long ago.
Merek was astonished. "So you've become the first Skinchanger to have an ice spider as an animal companion?"
Thorfinn was unsure. "Perhaps, but it's possible someone else did it, and no one ever knew."
The cooked ice spider meat was extraordinarily delicious. Even Popsicle ate a little, though not much, as she was unaccustomed to cooked food. They held no taboo against eating their own kind. In the wilderness, anything is acceptable for survival, for being alive is the truest capital. Popsicle also held a unique affection for Thorfinn. Perhaps once they truly accept you as a friend, they never change; at least they aren't as complicated as humans.
After eating, Merek, unable to resist his fatigue any longer, fell asleep first. Thorfinn quietly got up after Merek was soundly asleep.
In the weak light of the fire, he removed his innermost garment, looking at the diamond-shaped mark on his chest. The blue pattern was as deep as a demon's eye, and Thorfinn was truly troubled by the mark. Drawing on magical power relies on the powerful will of the caster; in other words, the magic itself carries the will of its master.
The magic of the Cold God, however, carried malicious intent, filled with seductive and malevolent thoughts. It slowly wore away your will and corrupted your heart. Through the diamond-shaped mark, Thorfinn could feel the Cold God's presence. If he wished, he could draw on the Cold God's power through this mark, but the cost would be enduring the erosion of the Cold God's magic. Currently, Thorfinn had no ability to remove the mark.
After much thought, Thorfinn still couldn't conceive of a viable solution. He sensed the surrounding environment and didn't feel too cold. The low temperature that Merek couldn't endure was merely cool to him. Using the firelight and a smooth sheet of ice as a mirror, Thorfinn touched his face. His skin had become much fairer, his eyes like blue stars, and his skin was cold as ice. All these characteristics indicated an inhuman transformation.
Having lost his original body temperature, Thorfinn's heart, however, felt like a raging fire of volatility. Fortunately, his years of accumulated magical power could still suppress this change. Since his body was the battlefield, he had the advantage of fighting on home ground. His body was adapting to the change, and at the same time, Thorfinn was constantly using his magic to defend his body's sovereignty. The clash of magical forces was continually taking place within Thorfinn.
Thorfinn found it hard to explain the changes in his body. He was neither a White Walker nor an ordinary human; on closer inspection, he seemed to be an existence somewhere in between the two. The need for sleep was still present, and this drowsiness gave Thorfinn a small sense of comfort. At least he hadn't fully converted; he still retained human characteristics.
The next day, Thorfinn woke up early. A deep, refreshing sleep proved very effective. By his estimation, only about three hours had passed, yet Thorfinn was completely refreshed.
It seemed this change was not without its benefits. At the very least, Thorfinn's need for sleep had significantly decreased. It appeared he needed to delve deeper into the potential of this transformation.
Given the circumstances, he could only choose to view things in a positive light.
In fact, the advantages brought by the mark were also clear: his appearance had improved, his resistance to freezing cold had greatly increased, and, finally, the greatest gain of all was the 'ticket' to learning Ice Magic and Necromancy.
The power of the Cold God seemed to inherently grant this talent, making it easier for Thorfinn to master Ice Magic. Perhaps he now had a greater affinity for it. Looking at himself—neither man nor ghoul—this advantage seemed only fitting. At least it was a rational explanation, wasn't it?
Thinking this, Thorfinn couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh.
Popsicle was also awake. The ice spider had spent many years in this cave and was reluctant to leave. Even though she was following her trusted human friend, she still had affection for this land. She was very intelligent. In Thorfinn's opinion, even without the 'Aptitude Augmentation' spell, Popsicle was the smartest animal he had ever encountered. He had seen other ice spiders, but they were clearly not as clever as Popsicle.
With Merek finally waking up, Popsicle's time for silent farewells was running out.
Popsicle was going to leave; Thorfinn had already discussed it with her. She had been planning to depart anyway, perhaps in a day or two, perhaps in three or five, and that was when Thorfinn arrived.
A simple coincidence, or the arrangement of fate? Who could know such things?
Popsicle brought the two men to the cave entrance. Thorfinn and Merek silently watched the reluctant ice spider. Even a spider could feel a longing for home. At this moment, Thorfinn and Merek couldn't help but miss their own family and friends. Merek, in particular, dearly missed his soft bed.
Only after Thorfinn's repeated requests did Popsicle allow him to climb onto her back. Merek was also granted a ride—truthfully, Popsicle simply thought the two of them were too slow. Popsicle, accustomed to rapid movement, completely let loose in the mountains and forests. Thorfinn and Merek experienced a ride on a high-performance mount, one that was completely clean and non-polluting, yet felt like a rushing gust of wind.
Thorfinn's previously heavy heart lightened somewhat, and Merek even laughed excitedly. The feeling was no less thrilling than a land race. The nearby scenery blurred into a streak. Through the faint snowy mist, the ice spider ran with the vigor of a thousand charging horses. Popsicle dashed forward like an arrow released from a bow.
Rabbits were startled into flight, flocks of birds continually took to the air, and a few elk darted out, running for their lives. It was like dropping a stone into a still lake, sending ripples outwards, a rare moment of commotion in this serene forest of the far North.
They spent a few grueling nights in the forest, taking turns keeping watch with the help of the peregrine falcon and the owl, but the expected wights did not seem to have followed them.
However, Thorfinn could not feel at ease. Where were the White Walkers? Had they given up? Do the dead know the meaning of giving up halfway? There was no sign of them nearby. But as they walked, Thorfinn noticed something unusual: footprints appeared—footprints of large-scale human activity, undoubtedly belonging to the White Walker army.
Were they ahead? Yes. Their round-the-clock speed was naturally faster than Thorfinn and Merek's, which Thorfinn did not find surprising, though it shouldn't be by much, as wights are slow-moving.
The forest they were currently in was close to the Haunted Forest, perhaps even part of it, as no one had clearly defined the boundary. Thorfinn knew that by crossing the river ahead, they would enter the deep Haunted Forest, where they would be much safer.
A few ravens secretly watched them. They seemed to be ordinary ravens, yet there was something different about them. If someone looked closely, they would see that one of the ravens had... a third eye.
A bad feeling arose in Thorfinn's heart. The journey had been too quiet. The White Walkers would most likely appear ahead of them. Now it seemed everything would be revealed on the bank of the river up ahead.
After crossing the forest, the ice spider stopped. Not far from them, three White Walkers rode reanimated horses, standing majestically with sharp, icy spears in their hands. Behind them was an endless army of wights.
Thorfinn felt truly helpless. He could probably guess that his link with the Cold God was a direct line, and the irresponsible deity had likely failed to inform the White Walkers. He estimated that even if he were to shout that he was on their side, this group of ice-faced zombies with frozen brains would definitely ignore him.
However, perhaps... just perhaps his identity had not yet been revealed to the White Walkers?
A direct confrontation would surely end in failure. Even a small company of these dead men would be difficult to resist, let alone for Thorfinn and Merek alone. Their only reliance was the ice spider beneath them. Using Popsicle's defense and speed, they could try to bypass them, but that would double their journey, making it safer but also more uncertain.
Thorfinn fell into deep thought. He didn't want to give up the escape route right in front of him, nor did he want to keep running.
Since entering the far North, he had been constantly fleeing—dodging the White Walkers' scouts, infiltrating their headquarters, being discovered and fleeing, being hunted by an ice spider only to meet Popsicle and turn the tide. But now, being blocked by the White Walkers, Thorfinn didn't want to run anymore. Since the Cold God had chosen him to be its priest, he should at least have some authority.
Thorfinn considered many things. What he most wanted to do was use the White Walkers to verify one thing: the 'weight' of the Cold God's mark in their eyes, and what he could achieve with it.
Before acting, Thorfinn was certain of at least one thing: his safety was guaranteed. After all, as the Cold God's priest, even the least devout followers wouldn't persecute their priest. A priest, as the name implies, is a person who assists or officiates at the altar. Depending on the faith, priests are considered to possess varying degrees of holiness. In terms of both practical social function and mystical religious significance, a priest holds irreplaceable importance. Thorfinn believed this principle would hold true, even when facing the White Walkers.