Kapitel 659: Chapter 659: The Death of Ban Yang
Beyond the wall, the climate was even harsher than south of it, with endless, blinding snowfall and a chilling wind that seemed to pierce through garments.
The North, under the advancement of the Night's Watch, had been largely reclaimed. And with the march of human soldiers, the bitter cold that enveloped the entire northern lands seemed to slowly recede.
This was the only stroke of luck amongst ten thousand misfortunes.
Among the human soldiers, some sang praises of the old gods' deeds; some believed that the Seven had triumphed over the White Walkers. A minority, who had converted to worshipping the Lord of Light, believed that light had conquered darkness. They were warriors of the Lord of Light, and the strange gods of the North had begun to fear their iron will.
However, there were also a few who believed in man's victory over destiny. Where did the gods come from? Humanity had repelled the White Walkers through countless soldiers sacrificing their lives, and only when the entire nation was unified, when all of humanity was united, could they ultimately defeat the White Walkers.
Everyone had their own theories, but the fact that the North was gradually warming was undeniable. Even now, some Northerners, homesick, began their journey back.
However, all of this had nothing to do with the bitter cold north of the Wall.
Here, winter persisted all year round, regardless of season. The Wall blocked the cold winds from traveling south but also forever trapped winter here.
Ban Yang, having left the Wall to enter the land beyond alone, rode a lean black and yellow war horse, cloaked in black, with a long sword at his waist, was now trudging through the boundless snow.
He planned to first reach Castle Craster to rest for the night, and then set off for Fist of the First Men and other places the next day.
Craster, a wildling, cooperated tacitly with the Night's Watch. He hosted the Night's Watch and, in turn, they allowed him to reside in the Haunted Forest without being expelled.
However, unfortunately, the snowstorm beyond the Wall was too severe today. Even the war horse struggled, its hooves slipping several times, nearly throwing Ban Yang off.
"Damn it!"
With no other option, Ban Yang was forced to change his plan, turning towards the nearest village of Whitetree.
It was the closest Free Folk village north of the Wall. Like Craster, they were wildlings who had not openly opposed the Night's Watch and thus were allowed to live in the Haunted Forest.
Ban Yang, atop his lean black and yellow horse, disappeared into the snowstorm.
Unbeknownst to him, a shaky shadow had spotted him from behind, quietly following him northeast.
Whitetree was the closest village north of the Wall. Although the current snowstorm was somewhat severe, Ban Yang still managed to get there in half a day.
The snowstorm was now too strong; he had to find an appropriate place to stay and wait it out, or he would freeze to death in the wilderness before he could find any trace of Lyanna.
Even though Ban Yang was experienced in living beyond the Wall, being a veteran of the Night's Watch, precisely because of this, he knew very well that such a snowstorm without shelter would inevitably result in death.
Whitetree was a Free Folk village, but now, its inhabitants had all vanished.
Ban Yang vaguely remembered that when King Robert visited the Wall, several Free Folk villages had been exterminated, and even the first White Walker was killed. But he forgot whether the villagers of Whitetree were killed by the allied soldiers, other wildling tribes, or the White Walkers.
However, one outcome was certain: they were all dead, regardless of who killed them. And they all shared a common fate, becoming those "blue-eyed enemies."
Whitetree was not large, consisting of four single houses surrounding a sheep pen and a well. The houses were made of stone, so they wouldn't be blown down by the wind, and the windows were covered with animal pelts to keep warm.
But now, the windows of Whitetree were all broken, and one house had even collapsed, accumulating thick snow.
In the middle of the village stood a giant weirwood tree. Its branches were pale, devoid of leaves, and the tree trunk bore a terrifying face, its mouth large enough to swallow an entire sheep.
"This weirwood is dead."
Ban Yang rode his lean horse into Whitetree, looking up at the giant weirwood in front of him from atop his mount.
He could tell at a glance that this weirwood had lost all its vitality. An ominous premonition quietly rose in his heart, because weirwoods were scattered throughout the North and beyond the Wall, counted among the plants most able to resist the severe cold.
"Did it freeze to death?"
"Or was there another reason?"
Snow covered Ban Yang's head, and the gloom in his heart grew deeper, but he had no time to think about it now and was about to dismount.
However, at this moment, the attack of the wights came very suddenly.
"Heh—"
A wight, with blue eyes and tattered body, seemed to appear out of nowhere, suddenly emitting a terrifying roar, then burst out from behind a tree, charging directly at Ban Yang.
The snowstorm concealed its footsteps, and the cold air obliterated its stench.
However, suddenly attacked, Ban Yang, Chief Ranger of the Night's Watch, naturally reacted quickly.
Crack—
Ban Yang fell from the horse, wielding his sword and, with a backhand strike, severed the wight's arm that reached toward him.
But at this moment, the quiet Whitetree seemed to suddenly come alive. The noise of the fight abruptly attracted more wights.
They howled shrilly, as if mad, and lunged at Ban Yang.
The Chief Ranger's face tensed, and he waved his sword, continuously slaughtering the surrounding wights.
Plop—
However, unfortunately, he was ultimately outnumbered. He toppled several wights but was jumped from behind by one with the appearance of a woman, who leapt onto his back.
The wight's legs clamped around Ban Yang's body, and with a gaping mouth, half its cheek rotten away revealing blackened gums, it ferociously began biting at his neck.
Ban Yang, in pain, let out a desperate growl, then threw the wight off his back, and with a swing of his sword, severed her head, which rolled far away.
However, her head was still emitting terrifying howls, and the fallen body also moved around, seemingly still searching for Ban Yang.
And the Chief Ranger of the Night's Watch, sword in one hand, the other clutching the wound on his neck, blood continuously flowing out.
"I'm going to die."
Ban Yang seemed to have sensed his future, staggering forward a few steps, but eventually, his head spun, his vision blackened, and he fell forward, collapsing in front of the lifeless, giant weirwood.
His eyes, once sharp and resolute, began to glaze over as he gazed upon the silent sentinel of the North. Blood oozed slowly from his neck, staining the pristine snow beneath him. The ominous howls and shrieks of the wights were a haunting serenade, growing fainter as he slipped towards the abyss.
Even in his last moments, Ban Yang thought of the Wall, of the brothers he left behind, and the warning he would never be able to deliver. He thought of the North, now warming, unbeknownst to the terror that lingered just beyond their sight.
The wights, their eyes ablaze with an unnatural, eerie blue, circled around him, observing with a hollow, haunting gaze. The one he had decapitated crawled, torso and head separated, still driven by some unholy will.
Ban Yang, in his dying breaths, whispered prayers to the Old Gods and the New, his voice barely a quiver in the endless, icy expanse of the North.
In the shadow of the dead weirwood, his life force ebbed away, relinquishing him to the cold, and his form crumbled into the snow, becoming one with the white wasteland.
The wights lingered for a moment, then, with a collective, guttural growl, they retreated into the whiteness from whence they came, leaving behind the stillness, broken only by the gentle rustle of the wind through the lifeless branches above.
Ban Yang's body lay there, a mere speck in the vast, frozen tundra beyond the Wall, his story, his warning, swallowed by the unrelenting snowstorm.
In the South, the tales of warming, of rebirth, continued, blissfully ignorant of the horror that transpired in the desolation of the North, and the storm that lingered on their horizon.
And so, amidst the howling winds and the ceaseless snowfall, Ban Yang's tale came to a bitter, silent end.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein