The awakening

**So, my novel 'The King's path' just got vetted and formally published in Webnovel. Give it a read if you love mythology, heroes and lovecraftian lores along with epic battles with solo leveling vibes. I am doing extensive world building and lores which will satisfy you guys.**

The next morning, Daeron approached Rickard, requesting leave to visit the Wall. Rickard's brows furrowed in curiosity. "Why would you want to see that frozen expanse?"

Daeron smiled faintly. "It's said to be a marvel of the ancient world. I've always admired great works of architecture. Not to mention it's built my ancestor. "

Rickard chuckled. "You're a strange one, nephew. Very well. I'll write to Lord Commander Harrion Ryswell and inform him of your arrival."

Within days, Daeron mounted Acnologia and soared northward. The journey was long and cold, but after a week, the Wall came into view—a towering monolith of ice stretching endlessly in either direction. Daeron's breath caught. The sheer scale of it was awe-inspiring.

At Castle Black, the men of the Night's Watch gawked as Acnologia landed in the courtyard, its massive wings sending flurries of snow swirling. Lord Commander Harrion Ryswell, a weathered man in his fifties, stepped forward, his expression a mix of awe and wariness.

"Prince Daeron," Harrion said, bowing slightly. "It's not every day a dragon rider visits the Wall. What brings you here?"

Daeron dismounted gracefully, his Valyrian cloak trailing behind him. "Curiosity, Lord Commander. I've always admired the Wall's construction. A feat of Bran the Builder, I believe?"

Harrion nodded. "Aye, thousands of years ago. What do you think of it?"

Daeron gazed up at the towering ice. "It's magnificent. A testament to human will and ingenuity."

During his stay, Daeron assisted the Watch by hunting beyond the Wall. Acnologia proved invaluable, its presence alone enough to cow most threats.

On one such hunt, Daeron encountered a group of wildlings. They were ragged and wary, but they didn't attack—Acnologia's piercing gaze ensured that. Daeron dismounted, raising a hand in peace.

"I'm not here to harm you," he said, his voice carrying authority. "I come with a warning."

The wildlings exchanged glances but remained silent.

"The Long Night will return," Daeron continued. "The dead will rise, and winter will consume us all. If you wish to survive, you must unite. Set aside your petty squabbles and prepare."

One of the wildlings, a tall man with a scarred face, stepped forward. "Why should we listen to a southerner?"

Daeron's gray eyes burned like cold steel. "Because I will return in two years. If your people decide to live and act civilly, I'll help you find refuge in Essos—a warmer land. But if you ignore this warning, you'll all die."

The wildlings murmured among themselves, their fear of Acnologia outweighing their distrust of Daeron. Finally, they nodded, retreating into the forest.

As Daeron rode back to Castle Black, he felt the weight of his actions. The North was vast and cold, but its secrets were worth uncovering. The Long Night loomed closer, and Daeron was determined to be ready.

After he got back to the castle, Daeron was walking through the courtyards in one morning. As he walked by the recruits training, he joined them on a whim. After beating up several of them while pointing out their flaws, a handsome boy approached him with a challenge.

Daeron accepted without much hesitation. But as he fought the boy, he found his movements quite different from usual . After a few clashes, Daeron had him on the ground, he asked him calmly, " Have you already taken your vows?"

The boy refused timidly. Daeron then asked him what was his name, and the boy replied he was called Danny Flint, from Flint's finger . Daeron immediately recognized the name from the book.

He remembered the song about Danny flint, and Jon's remark to Mance Ryder. " Nope, not on my watch !"

He immediately dragged the poor girl to the commanders chambers and told him to send her back to her home. Lord Commander Harrion was confused and asked what did Daeron meant by that, And Daeron pointed to the girl and just said, " That is a girl lord commander, and she hasn't taken the vows yet."

The newly identified girl Danny, now being more nervous, protested, saying she is determined to join the nights watch despite being a woman.

The lord commander , now shocked, profusely thanked Daeron, as this could have ended very badly if others found out.

"You are very lucky lass," He yelled at the girl. " You think a woman can sneak into a order of men who vowed to remain celibate, and nothing would happen if it was found out!

How long did you think you could last here? If Prince Daeron didn't find out, you would be raped within a year and die probably! And that would be on my fuckin conscience." He kept rebuking.

Daeron calmed down the man and replied, " The Lord commander is right. You might have noble wishes, or desire to prove yourself as a warrior, but this is the last place you should be. We will send you back home and break your legs if needed, so don't think about running."

Poor Danny was now in tears as she sobbed softly. Daeron felt a little bad, but this was for her own goo. He gently patted the young girl's head and said, " Trust me, this is for the best. If you still wish to be a warrior, inform your family, then go to Winterfell. My uncle Rickard will train you and that's much safer than this."

She nodded obediently and left the room. Daeron then told Harrion, " You should check better before recruiting people. Night's watch might no longer be a heroic order, but it's still necessary for the long night that will come. So train the boys well, for Winter is coming ."

Far beyond the Wall, in the desolate heart of the Lands of Always Winter, the frozen winds howled with an otherworldly keening. Ancient glaciers groaned under the weight of eternal ice, and the auroras painted eerie lights across the pitch-black sky.

In the depths of a forgotten, icy stronghold—where time had ceased to exist—an ancient entity stirred.

The Night King opened his piercing blue eyes. For thousands of years, he had lain dormant, his existence suspended in the cold void. But now, something had changed. A presence had brushed against the edges of his awareness, like the flicker of a long-forgotten flame. It was faint but unmistakable, a resonance that pulled at the threads of his being.

A memory surfaced, unbidden and unwelcome—a time before he was the Night King. A time when he was a man. A time when the flame of Azor Ahai had burned bright, searing the frozen darkness. He had been defeated then, but not destroyed. Never destroyed. The world's fire had dimmed, and he had waited in silence for the wheel to turn once more.

As the memory faded, anger surged within him. The flames of Azor Ahai—his enemy—threatened to rise again. He could feel it, like a faint ember igniting in the distance.

The Night King rose from his icy throne, his movements deliberate and silent. The frost that encased his form cracked and shattered as he stood. Around him, the cavern began to stir. Ice spiders as large as wolves scuttled from their frozen lairs, their many eyes gleaming with cold malevolence. Wights, their flesh barely clinging to frozen bones, emerged from the darkness, drawn to their master's awakening.

He extended a pale, frostbitten hand, and the cold air crystallized into a jagged blade of ice. Raising it high, he let out a soundless command that reverberated through the frozen wastelands. The ground beneath his feet trembled, and in the distance, great fissures formed in the ice, releasing hordes of slumbering undead.

The Night King turned his gaze southward, toward the Wall. He didn't need to speak; his intent was clear. He would rise again, and this time, humanity would not survive.

For centuries, the Night King had been dormant, but his army had never stopped growing after previous annihilation. Every fallen life beyond the Wall was a potential soldier for his cause. Now, his remaining generals, the White Walkers, approached him, their icy forms gleaming in the faint light. They bowed, their pale blue eyes reflecting their master's fury. 

But his mind was not yet consumed with immediate conquest. He sought understanding. Why now? What had stirred the presence of Azor Ahai's flame? Was it a man? A woman? A dragon? He would find out, and when he did, he would extinguish that flame as he had tried before. Only this time, he would leave no survivors.

In the silence of his icy realm, the Night King climbed a massive glacier overlooking the frozen wasteland. He gazed at the horizon, where the faintest hint of the Wall lay obscured by distance and snow.

For millennia, men had forgotten him. Their stories had faded into legend, their warnings into myth. But he had not forgotten. He remembered every victory and every defeat. He remembered the bitter flames of Azor Ahai's blade piercing his icy heart.

This time, he vowed, there would be no light left to fight him. The Long Night would return, and with it, the endless darkness.

As he descended the glacier, his army moving steadily below, the Night King turned his thoughts toward preparation. He would need more soldiers, more strength, and more time. But most of all, he needed to understand the enemy who had awakened him.

Somewhere south of the Wall, the spark of resistance flickered. Somewhere, Azor Ahai—or something like him—lived.

And he would be waiting.

Far to the south, Daeron sat in Castle Black, staring into the fire as it crackled in the hearth. Unbeknownst to him, the enemy he had warned the wildlings about had already begun to move. The ancient war between ice and fire was reigniting, and he stood at the precipice of a battle older than time itself.