I ran toward my King, but I had to fight my way through because many stood in my way. I felled those I could, and evaded those not as quickly dispatched. Reaching the side of my King was more important than anything else. When I broke through the final ranks, I found the Night King in combat with a woman in gleaming metal plate. One of the tallest people on the battlefield, she carried a sword that must have been made from Valyrian steel as it didn't break when he struck against it with his frozen blade.

Also approaching the conflict was a black cloaked Crow I'd seen leading the opposition during our taking of the town of Hardhome. I moved to engage him before he could interrupt the fight, but he possessed a degree of skill greater than my own, smashing aside every swing of my sword. He apparently cared nothing about me, and it was made obvious when he deflected a stab I'd aimed toward his chest and used his free arm to catch mine as he stepped past. Pulling suddenly while bending slightly at the waist, he dragged me backwards and around to flip me over onto my back. Not bothering to finish me off, he ran over to join the fight against my master.

The Night King was a marvel to behold in combat. He turned and spun, his blade countering every attack made against him until the Crow got involved. With two expert blades attacking at the same moment, he could only block one and dodge the other, and this only continued for a moment before the unthinkable occurred. The Night King stepped back from a vicious swipe from the woman that nearly took off his head only to be impaled through the chest by the Crow.

Gleaming metal protruded from the Night King's back. The Crow paused as if waiting for some reaction. It was his mistake. The Night King backhanded the man, sending him spinning away to land in the snow. Tearing the sword free, my master used it to parry a follow-up strike by the woman, and while her sword was being directed aside, she could do nothing as he drove his own blade through her armor and into her chest.

As the woman fell dead at his feet, I noticed something odd. There was still a metal point protruding from the Night King's back. I assumed it must've been the Dragonglass originally pushed into his heart to make him into the first of the White Walkers. When the Crow got back to his feet, I saw him notice the metal as well. As he lunged toward the Night King, I scrambled to lay hold of the man and stop him. With boots sliding in the bloody snow, I realized I wouldn't be in time. The Crow grabbed the Dragonglass and ripped it free. In that moment, the army of the dead was undone.

The wights instantly collapsed to the ground. Like me, the White Walkers dropped to their hands and knees. I felt as if all the breath had been taken from me. I was a hollow shell pretending to be a man; all that I was had been ripped away. With all the strength I still possessed, I stumbled and half crawled toward where my Master lay on his back in the snow.

His face was changing by the time I reached his side. The blue of his skin was melting away, replaced by a more human shade. The horns of ice making his crown were diminishing as well. Everything he'd worked towards for twelve thousand years was dying in front of me because I knew we'd never accomplish his goals without him and the army he'd raised.

In a familiar action, the Night King reached up and seized me by the throat. I didn't feel a rush of memories and a numbing of my senses as I'd experienced before when he'd turned me. This time, I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning, not by a single bolt but a continuous charge. I inhaled sharply. My skin burned where his hand was against my throat, and I thought I might burst into flames at any moment.

The Night King released me, his hand dropping away as his eyes lost their artic blue a moment before they closed in death.

The battle around and across the city had slowed intensely with the collapse of the army. Only the spiders, returned to their original minds, continued the fight as their natural aggression came through. The warriors nearest to me were slowly approaching, and I knew they'd probably kill me. I welcomed death. If I couldn't have the world my King wanted to bring forth, I would rather die than go on knowing what would never be.

A spark of light caught my gaze, tearing me away momentarily from the still form of the man who had once been my King. When I looked closer at the point of light, I realized there were two and they were only reflections against the silver armor of the dead woman slain by the Night King. I moved my head for a better view, and the points of light moved with me. With a sudden thought, I grabbed up a sword and looked at my reflection in the polished surface of the blade. My skin had returned to its human coloring, so I no longer had the appearance of a White Walker, but my eyes glowed brightly like a pair of stars in the midnight sky.

I wasn't a White Walker anymore, my King had changed me into something else, something more. His power was now mine. Dropping the sword and reaching out with both hands, I lifted upwards toward the sky, and the army of the dead rose again, combined with all those felled on the battlefield. The living warriors fled back to the city in terror of the army, my army, now without a weakness and in even greater numbers than before.

The only one not raised was the Night King. Having experienced the memories of his mission over thousands of years, I knew he was tired and didn't want to go on. The world he'd come from was not the world that existed today. Everything and everyone he'd known was gone. He had brought the great work to this point and had now entrusted it to me. I would not fail him.

It was a strange sensation. I could feel the magical lines binding the undead to me. I could see through their eyes. It was like being a room with ten thousand spyglasses, and I could select any one I wished and see its view of the world, but they didn't all crowd into my consciousness at once. I was one with the horde but also separate. I only had to think what I wanted, and the army would begin moving to carry out my wishes. Had my mind not been tempered by the twelve thousand years of experiences belonging to the Night King, the feeling of power might've gone to my head. As it was, I had a mission. My King's great quest stood incomplete, and I would see it done for him in his honor.