In front of the frozen river, three White Walkers silently regarded Thorfinn and his party. Behind them was an army of Wights—the dead with muscles sloughing off to reveal leg bones, the dead with flesh remaining on only half a face, and others with putrefying bodies. Every one of them was a sight that inspired utter terror.
However, Thorfinn and Merek had at least seen such a scene before. Merek was understandably terrified; few people could remain calm facing this, and even Thorfinn was scared stiff.
Thorfinn spoke softly, "Merek, do you trust me?"
Merek replied, "Of course."
Thorfinn smiled. "Remember, no matter what happens, do not panic, do not be afraid!"
Seeing Merek nod earnestly, Thorfinn finally relaxed.
Faced with this predicament, Thorfinn did the opposite of his usual instinct to bolt. He slowly climbed off the ice spider and walked straight towards the White Walkers. Merek was dumbfounded, but he held onto his trust in Thorfinn. He had witnessed too many miraculous things lately and had developed a new understanding of Thorfinn's magical abilities.
Walking across the snow-covered ground, Thorfinn strode steadily. The 'stars' in his blue eyes shone brighter. No one could know that Thorfinn had quietly activated the Cold God's mark.
This was the first time Thorfinn had activated the mark, the first time he embraced the power and majesty of the Cold God.
A powerful aura rose up—something only magic of a certain strength could manifest. A spiritual wave, deep as an abyss and vast as the sea, carried a sense of inviolable divine might.
Thorfinn, the catalyst for this spectacle, savored the Cold God's gift. This feeling of controlling everything was too exquisite, a domain unique to the gods, symbolizing unmatched power. Were it not for a lingering sense of resistance, Thorfinn would have been utterly intoxicated by this power. The feeling of being above it all was utterly captivating.
Even on his first connection, Thorfinn gained a lot of information through the mark. It was at this moment that he finally understood why they were still being chased by the White Walkers after he was chosen as the priest, and he also grasped the general state of the Cold God and similar deities.
What are the gods? What is the Cold God? What is divinity?
The gods are aloof and know everything, yet they are powerless to change reality. All they can do is exert influence on the world through their believers.
And what kind of lunatic or monster would worship a god who symbolizes ice and death? Madmen and fanatics are few, while the White Walkers are naturally aligned with the Cold God's doctrine. But the White Walkers are merely thinking puppets. They can use ice magic to enslave the bodies of the dead, but they cannot provide loyal faith...
The temperature plummeted, but only Merek shivered from the cold. The others—the ice spider and the White Walkers—felt comfortable and pleasantly at ease. Had they not been opponents, they would likely have all enjoyed this sensation of bathing in ice magic.
Though seated high on their reanimated mounts, the White Walkers were no longer calm and composed. The three began communicating with each other in the Others' tongue, a sound like cracking ice shards that was horribly grating. Thorfinn had no idea what they were chattering about, but he caught the look of shock on their faces.
It was working. The identity of "Cold God's Priest" held some sway with the White Walkers. If that was the case, things would be much simpler...
Thorfinn's expression became solemn, and his eyes shone with a peculiar light. A fierce anger was transmitted through the spiritual wave, causing a tremor in everyone's mind—the inherent pressure of a superior being.
The White Walkers dared not remain on their horses. They dismounted and stood bowed, their attitude unbelievably respectful, like humble vassals awaiting the judgment of their liege, showing a mixture of deference and fear.
Thorfinn didn't understand their language, but in this situation, he had his own clever tactic.
"Move aside!"
A simple, blunt command, transmitted through the mental link, detonated in the brains of the three White Walkers like a clap of thunder. The three looked surprised, but their hearts were all the more certain of their guess.
The White Walkers exchanged glances. After some hesitation, they moved aside to clear the way for Thorfinn. The mass of the dead behind them, under their control, also parted. The numerous Wights were merely thoughtless shells; without the White Walkers' command, they were only driven by instinct.
Thorfinn nodded and walked past them with a calm indifference. Just as he was leaving the three White Walkers, he transmitted one final message: "Winter is Coming! We are the end of the world!" With that, he paid no mind to the White Walkers' reaction and walked straight ahead.
The White Walkers' expressions became even more devout. They dared not be disrespectful, nor would they dare to offend the Priest who served their god. The former Free Folk, now an army of the dead, stood at attention. The vast column of the dead stretched to the riverbank, forming a pathway derived from death that seemed to connect the mortal world and the netherworld.
Without breaking his stride, Thorfinn walked towards the opposite bank as if no one were there, the ice spider following closely behind. Merek was so tense his body was rigid. Seated on the ice spider, he couldn't believe Thorfinn was so bold. With the army of Wights lining both sides, he was slumped on the spider and didn't even dare to breathe heavily.
From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the dead army. With the White Walkers bowed and the Wights silent, he had the chance to examine the dead men and White Walkers closely. The White Walkers and the densely packed Wights created a chilling picture of horror. The eerie silence made the scene even more sinister. The cold whispers of the wind outside and the sound of the flowing river became the main melody of the background.
Merek's eyes darted nervously as he scrutinized the army of the dead. The White Walkers were bare-chested, carrying their icy spears. Their hair was sparse and ash-white, and their skin was covered in frost-purple. They all looked immensely powerful and slightly taller than ordinary men.
The Wights, conversely, fully retained the features of the Free Folk and used a variety of weapons. Combined with their rotting and festering bodies, their combat strength was actually low. These creatures would be the first wave of cannon fodder once the battle began. The most troublesome factor was their sheer numbers and their inability to truly die.
The scene was terrifyingly silent. All Merek could hear were the ice spider's footsteps and the sound of Thorfinn's walking. The chilling silence of the dead was particularly unnerving, like a volcano that could erupt at any moment, making it impossible to feel safe.
Unconsciously, they stepped onto the river. Merek's stiff body finally relaxed. He knew he had miraculously escaped and began to breathe deeply again. The ice spider did not walk slowly; they were the best mounts for this snowy terrain. Not even horses tamed by the Free Folk could match them.
Upon reaching the opposite bank of the river, the ice spider stopped. Thorfinn was already waiting quietly there.
Merek scrambled down from the ice spider. He barely had time to rub his numb legs before he couldn't help but ask, "Thorfinn, how did you do that? It's simply unbelievable."
Thorfinn gave a wry smile. "Actually, it's not a good thing."
Merek honestly couldn't understand how it could not be a good thing. They had escaped a massive ambush without expending any effort. It should be the greatest stroke of luck. But Thorfinn didn't argue with Merek's doubt. He couldn't explain it, nor did he want to, and he simply disconnected from the mark.
They continued walking into the woods, but after only a short distance, Thorfinn stopped. He had sensed something. After his spiritual power breakthrough, his intuition was already formidable, and it had grown again when stimulated by using the Cold God's power just moments ago. No stir or shift could escape his notice.
Merek was confused. "What's wrong?"
Thorfinn didn't answer. He stared at a tall tree and spoke clearly, "Come out. You are well-hidden, but I have found you."
After a while, there was still no movement. Just when Merek was starting to think Thorfinn was just overly tense, a sweet and high-pitched adult female voice rang out.
"You are most... uncommon, man."
A small figure darted out from behind the tree. With several agile leaps and climbs, she landed steadily in front of Thorfinn and Merek. A look of astonishment appeared in both men's eyes. Standing before them was a Child of the Forest, instantly recognizable by their distinct features, utterly unlike humans.
Yes, what appeared before Thorfinn was a Child of the Forest.
She had large ears and a leaf cloak covering deep brown skin that was speckled like a doe's. Her hands had three fingers each, and her thumbs were sharp claws instead of nails. Her eyes were extraordinary—a mixture of gold and green, narrow like a cat's eye, giving her the air of a sprite. She also had a tangled mass of brown, red, and golden hair, colors of autumn tangled together, interspersed with grapevines, small branches, and dead flowers.
Thorfinn asked, "Are you a Child of the Forest?"
"I am," she replied. Her voice carried a strange rhythm and a thread of deep-seated sorrow.
The Child of the Forest introduced herself. "You may call me Leaf. I serve the last Greenseer—the Three-Eyed Raven. He sent me to help you. Though, now it seems... you may not need my help after all."
At that moment, a sharp light flashed in Thorfinn's eyes. He countered, "Actually, we need your help very much. If possible... I would like to meet the Greenseer."
Merek, who had been full of curiosity while examining the Child of the Forest, wasn't sure whether to stop Thorfinn when he heard this. With a total lack of information, he had no idea what the two were talking about.
Leaf hesitated, then contemplated for a moment. "You carry the scent of the Others, and a trace of ominous magic lingers on you. I saw what happened just now. Can you tell me how you did it?"
Thorfinn thought for a moment, then vaguely answered, "I used the power of an old god."
"The power of an old god?" Leaf murmured, chewing over Thorfinn's answer. "I think I know why the Greenseer told me to bring this to you. He actually wants to meet you. For some reason, he seems particularly curious about you!" With that, Leaf pulled out a small cup made from a Weirwood knot.
Leaf handed the cup-sized wooden bowl to Thorfinn and gestured for him to drink it.
"This is Weirwood paste. It can unlock the potential hidden deep within your bloodline. Also, the scent of the Weirwood can confuse magical detection for a short time... Even though the mark of a foreign god's power remains on you, this is enough to sustain you until you meet him."
Thorfinn opened the small bowl. The appearance of the Weirwood paste was disgusting to him. He guessed the dark red threads were the Weirwood's sap, but under the dying sunlight, they looked distinctly like blood. He held it in his hand, scrutinizing it, debating whether to drink it. For a moment, Thorfinn was conflicted.
Seeing Thorfinn's hesitation, Leaf spoke, "The Greenseer is taking a risk to meet with you. He cannot be discovered, at least not by the White Walkers."
Merek intervened. "Thorfinn, don't drink it! What if it's poisoned?"
Leaf gave Merek an annoyed glance but ignored him, simply waiting for Thorfinn's decision. Seeing Merek's anxious display, Thorfinn smiled. "It's alright, Merek. Trust my judgment, just like before."
Thorfinn was certain Leaf was not lying. Few lies could escape him. His strong spiritual cultivation had made him a walking 'lie detector'; even if Thorfinn could not read minds, he always found ways to see through people's intentions.
No longer hesitating, Thorfinn drank the Weirwood paste. The first taste was not good, but the last was extraordinarily delicious. Thorfinn initially found it bitter, but the next mouthful was much better, and by the end, it was almost sweet. The Weirwood paste tasted like honey, like fresh snow, like pepper and cinnamon, and finally, like the overwhelming happiness of a reunion with loved ones, deeply comforting and heartwarming.
In an instant, Thorfinn felt his body was as vibrant as it used to be. It was as if the effects of the Cold God's mark had completely dissolved, and his life force had returned to its original state. At this point, Thorfinn was certain this magical substance could indeed achieve the effect Leaf had described, and he ate the remaining bit completely, not wasting a drop.
Leaf asked, "The taste is good, isn't it?"
Thorfinn nodded. "The taste is indeed good. Do you have any more?"
Leaf sighed. "Greedy human. There is only this much available. If you are sincere about meeting the Greenseer, I think we should be on our way..."
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