Its head was as massive as a castle, jagged ice spikes rising to form crown-like horns.
Most terrifying of all were its pale blue eyes, filled with an absolute cold so profound it seemed capable of freezing the soul itself.
Ice Dragons!
A horror said to exist only in the deepest reaches of the Shivering Sea and the White Waste, a creature even larger than Valyrian dragons.
It was no longer a lie told by trembling fishermen of the Shivering Sea. It was real, and it had appeared here.
"The Seven Gods… above…"
Marlon Manderly shook violently as he muttered under his breath. His sword slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground, yet he did not even notice.
"This… this can't be…"
Davos's face drained of all color. The crushing presence radiating from the frostbound behemoth eclipsed anything he had ever faced.
Mance Rayder, Tormund, and the other wildlings stood frozen, unable to utter a single word.
Even they had only heard of Ice Dragons in the most ancient songs.
On the ramparts, the soldiers' morale, which had only just risen from the king's slaying of an Other, collapsed in an instant, swallowed by overwhelming despair.
Many let their weapons fall, their eyes empty and unfocused.
Before such a colossal existence, all resistance felt like a cruel joke.
Even the dragons in the sky—Silverfall, Ashshadow, and Duskshadow—let out uneasy growls, instinctively sensing danger and fear.
The Ice Dragon's pale blue, crystal-like eyes swept coldly over Moat Cailin below, over the living beings that looked no different from ants.
Seemingly uninterested in the chaos beneath it, its gaze finally settled on Lo Quen and Blooddancer, who had just slain an Other.
Then it opened its jaws, wide enough to swallow an entire tower.
What burst forth was not flame, but a torrent of pure white, bone-chilling cold. Accompanied by a shriek so sharp it threatened to shatter eardrums, it surged straight toward Lo Quen and Blooddancer.
At the sound of that scream, soldiers on the walls of Moat Cailin collapsed to their knees in agony, clutching their ears as blood streamed down their faces.
Even the Others and the wights trembled violently beneath the shriek infused with extreme ice magic, their movements freezing completely.
Lo Quen felt a surge of fear from Blooddancer, unlike anything before.
He had no doubt that if that white torrent struck them head-on, even Blooddancer would be frozen solid in an instant, then shattered.
There was no time to hesitate.
Lo Quen forced Blooddancer into an extremely dangerous dive, narrowly avoiding the Ice Dragon's first breath.
The freezing current skimmed past Blooddancer's tail, crystallizing the air in its wake and instantly coating the ground below in ice several feet thick.
"To the highest point of the Castle!"
Lo Quen gave the command.
Blooddancer beat its wings with all its strength, fighting against the raging blizzard as it landed unsteadily atop the tallest stone tower of the main Castle at Moat Cailin.
Lo Quen leapt from the dragon's back at once.
At that moment, every gaze—whether from despairing humans or the cold, unfeeling Others—was drawn irresistibly to that tower, to the lone figure standing at its peak, facing the terrifying Ice Dragon alone.
Lo Quen stood amid the howling wind, black hair whipping wildly, his back turned to all.
He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and activated his Ultimate Skill.
In the next instant, a sight that would be etched forever into every witness's memory unfolded.
Centered on Lo Quen, a blinding surge of golden light erupted outward.
The radiance was so intense that it briefly drove back the surrounding blizzard and gloom, as if a true sun had risen in the endless night.
A vast, blazing wave of terrifying energy swept across the entire battlefield.
Under the stunned gazes of everyone present, Lo Quen's body expanded and reshaped rapidly within the golden radiance.
Golden scales spread across his skin. His limbs became razor-sharp claws. His head transformed into a majestic dragon's visage, and a long, powerful tail lashed out behind him.
In the blink of an eye, atop the tower stood a colossal dragon, several times larger than Blooddancer.
Though still smaller than the frostbound behemoth in the sky, it nonetheless reached an astonishing length of over four hundred feet.
Its enormous dragon eyes glowed like molten gold, burning with overwhelming confidence.
Simply by standing there, the light and heat it radiated caused the surrounding bitter cold to falter and recoil.
"Your Grace?!"
Lord Anders Yronwood was the first to cry out, his voice breaking with disbelief as he stared, hardly trusting his own eyes.
He had never imagined his son-in-law could turn into a dragon.
"He… he's become a dragon?! A golden dragon!"
Ser Marlon of House Manderly gaped so wide his mouth could have swallowed an egg.
"By the gods… is this… is this truly His Grace's real power?"
Lord Wyman collapsed onto the ground, murmuring to himself as a spark of unbelievable hope reignited in his despairing eyes.
Many of the wildlings regarded Lo Quen's golden dragon form as a divine miracle and fell to their knees, bowing toward the tower.
Though Queen Daenerys and the other Queens had long known of Lo Quen's abilities, seeing him transform into such a magnificent golden dragon still filled their eyes with awe and pride.
From utter despair to an unimaginable reversal.
The sheer emotional shock nearly drove the surviving human defenders mad.
They had believed that before the Ice Dragon, humanity and even their own dragons stood no chance at all.
Yet who could have imagined that their king himself was such a powerful golden dragon?
Davos was just as shaken by the sight, but his sharp mind quickly caught something different.
"Look! Our king has four limbs. That Ice Dragon only has two!"
Everyone looked closely and found Davos was right. The golden dragon had two additional forelimbs on its upper body, a feature never seen among Valyrian dragons.
A four-legged dragon. Did that mean His Grace was far more noble than that two-legged Ice Dragon?
The thought rose unbidden in everyone's mind.
At that moment, the young knight Mychel Rayford beside Ser Waymar cried out excitedly, "Four legs beat two! The King will win!"
Seeing Mychel's burning enthusiasm, Waymar joined in at once.
"The King will win!"
The surging morale spread like wildfire. Across the battlefield, human voices rose in a deafening roar as they cheered for their king.
"Long live the King!"
"Golden Dragon Your Grace! Kill that ice monster!"
"For His Grace! For survival!"
Thunderous cheers and battle cries surged once more from the walls of Moat Cailin, louder than ever before.
Golden Dragon Lo Quen lifted his massive head, molten-gold eyes locking onto the Ice Dragon in the sky, and unleashed a roar filled with open challenge.
For the first time, the Ice Dragon's cold, crystalline eyes flickered ever so slightly. It seemed to have developed a genuine interest in this golden dragon that had appeared out of nowhere.
Golden Dragon Lo Quen beat his wings powerfully, his immense golden form surging forward to meet the frost-shrouded shadow of death that covered the heavens and the earth.