Castle Black grew more desolate after the sun abandoned the sky. The shadows between the crumbling towers lengthened, and the wind's mournful keen grew sharper.
Bowen Marsh shivered as he fumbled with a large iron ring of keys, trying each one in turn to unlock the heavy chains that secured the iron-barred gate. Frost had formed on the metal, making his fingers clumsy and slow.
"Could we not venture beyond the Wall on the morrow instead?" Tyrion asked, unable to contain his discomfort. Though the power of fire magic normally kept the cold at bay, what scenery could possibly be worth viewing in the pitch of night?
"Your nephew is in no particular hurry," Joffrey replied with feigned indifference. "I merely wish to fulfill my desire immediately and sleep soundly tonight."
What truly drew his attention was not what lay beyond the Wall, but the secrets held within the ancient barrier itself. The intangible magical aura ahead beckoned to him like a siren's call, impossible to resist.
The iron chains clattered noisily to the frozen ground.
Joffrey's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
He couldn't help but marvel at the difficulty of passing through the Wall. Ingress and egress were not meant to be simple matters here at the edge of the world.
Beyond the narrow, winding tunnel lay two more equally formidable iron gates, each requiring a dedicated gatekeeper to unlock. Above each gate were murder holes from which defenders could rain down arrows and chunks of ice upon intruders, making the defenses nearly impenetrable.
For the Wall, which lacked conventional city gates, these tunnels served as the only practical passages in and out of the North.
Unfortunately, even these passages had been largely abandoned as the Watch dwindled.
Joffrey knew of only two tunnels that remained serviceable—this one at Castle Black, and the mysterious "Black Gate" beneath the abandoned Nightfort.
He suspected that the Three-Eyed Raven might have permitted the skinchanger and snow bear to pass through the Black Gate. After all, that ancient being had once served as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, which would explain their unlikely presence.
The Wall truly deserved its reputation as the most formidable fortress in the known world.
Just before stepping into the tunnel, recalling the various accounts of the Wall's magic, Joffrey hesitated: Would these enchantments harm only the Others and their fell servants, or would they prove hostile to any wielder of magic?
He took a cautious step backward.
Tyrion strode boldly into the tunnel. Good, Joffrey thought with relief. The dwarf hadn't shattered into a thousand pieces or dropped dead without warning.
Joffrey continued forward with renewed confidence.
One step. Two steps.
But the moment he took the third step, a hazy, shimmering curtain of light swept across his entire body.
The Wall's magic!
A wave of dizziness seized his soul from within, threatening to unmoor him from his physical form. Am I caught in some ancient trap? he wondered with mounting alarm.
After several ragged breaths, he was relieved to discover that he remained alive and whole. There was no pain, his thoughts remained clear, and he felt neither the bite of cold nor the flush of heat.
But he immediately noticed the changes wrought upon his being.
The abundant magical energy that normally coursed through his body was suddenly compressed and forced into his runes, making it nearly impossible to call upon. Simultaneously, tendrils of magical energy began to flow slowly from the runes into the icy substance of the Wall itself, leaving faint streaks of colored light in their wake.
At least two distinct types of runes! he realized with mounting excitement.
He focused his mind and peered into the depths of the Wall, following the colorful threads of magical energy flowing outward from his body.
Identical patterns within the ice absorbed these dissipating energies. The patterns flickered like distant stars, but his perception of them steadily increased in a methodical fashion.
But why?
He immediately considered the similarities and differences between formless source energy and luminous magical energy. Could these ancient runes somehow reverse magical energy back into its primal source form?
A constellation of incredible theories exploded within his mind at once.
He hastily committed the shape of the pattern to memory, then began searching for evidence of other runes hidden within the ice.
The small group halted in the tunnel.
Jon stood silent vigil at Joffrey's side, standing guard against enemies that weren't there.
Bowen Marsh displayed no urgency whatsoever, content to wait out the prince's curiosity.
Tyrion, shivering violently from head to toe, couldn't help but plead: "Merciful nephew, I beg you to spare my miserable life. It's so cold in this accursed tunnel that my little manhood is like to freeze and snap off. Either let us press forward quickly or retreat to the warmth."
The dwarf was paying dearly for his earlier negligence.
His confidence in fire magic had led him to forgo additional layers of fur and wool. Now that his magic had failed him, he finally understood through bitter experience the infinite power of the Wall's ancient enchantments.
Joffrey withdrew his probing gaze with evident satisfaction.
"Alas, for the sake of my uncle's little manhood," he said with mock solemnity, "I have no choice but to temporarily set aside my curiosity about what lies beyond the Wall. Master Steward, we shall return the way we came."
Upon hearing this, Bowen Marsh's already ruddy face turned an even deeper shade of red, nearly purple with indignation.
On such a bitter night, he had abandoned his warm brazier and comfortable bedding to escort the crown prince beyond the Wall, only for the royal visitor to change his mind on a whim!
Bowen glared at Tyrion with undisguised hostility. "Lord Tyrion," he said through gritted teeth, "should there be a next time, I implore you to dress more appropriately before venturing into the cold. I have pressing duties that require my attention!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than Bowen turned to lead Joffrey and Jon back toward Castle Black, pointedly ignoring the shivering dwarf.
Tyrion followed helplessly in their wake, cursing under his breath.
The iron gate at the tunnel's entrance slammed shut with an ominous finality. It would not open again this night.
The moonlight painted the world in shades of silver and shadow.
The lights throughout Castle Black winked out one by one, until only the King's Tower and a handful of sentry posts remained illuminated against the darkness.
The party that had arrived at Castle Black that afternoon had already disbanded.
Benjen and Yoren had returned to their duties, while the wildling woman Osha remained under guard, awaiting her opportunity to identify the secret passage she had promised to reveal.
Joffrey retired to the King's Tower with Jon and Tyrion, taking the warmest chambers on the second floor. Rain, Ghost, and the snow bear each remained with their respective masters.
In the dancing orange-red light of the hearth fire, Joffrey sat upon the bed, absently stroking Rain's silvery fur.
The shadowcat seemed to suffer from some peculiar feline obsession with grooming. Whenever his sleek coat was disturbed, even by his master's touch, he would emit several disgruntled purrs of protest.
"Alas," Joffrey sighed, "I find I cannot sleep."
The increase in his mental strength had significantly reduced his need for slumber, and the day's discoveries had set his mind racing with possibilities. This was undoubtedly beneficial in the grand scheme of things, but for someone who had once relished the indolence of spending entire days abed, it represented a bittersweet sacrifice.
Fortunately, the power gained in exchange for this price was valuable beyond measure.
Joffrey closed his eyes and practiced communing with the three intangible new runes he had discovered.
The Runes of Extraction, Restoration, and Anti-Magic.
Contrary to his initial theory, it was not a single type of rune that drew away magical energy and reversed it into source energy within the Wall, but rather the combined effect of the Extraction Rune and the Restoration Rune working in concert.
The Extraction Rune could absorb magical energy within a certain radius.
The Restoration Rune could transmute excess magical energy from each rune back into primal source energy for storage, then redistribute this power to each rune when magical reserves ran low.
The Anti-Magic Rune, true to its name, could greatly suppress the functioning of magical energy within its sphere of influence—effectively prohibiting magic entirely. This particular rune was likely the most devastating to the Others and their wights.
Once their magic failed, those creatures who relied upon supernatural forces to maintain their very existence would simply... dissolve.
No wonder the Others had not ventured south in thousands of years.
There was just one aspect he couldn't quite decipher: he could control the activation and deactivation of the runes inscribed upon his own body, directing their output with precision, so how did the Anti-Magic Runes embedded in the Wall avoid interfering with the operation of other magical patterns?
Perhaps it was the effect of some unknown fourth rune that he had yet to discover? But he had found no evidence of such a thing.
It was equally possible that the power of this hypothetical rune was channeled through some manner of ritual, rather than being permanently inscribed upon the Wall or other physical objects.
If that were the case, what form might such a ritual take?
Having harvested so many runes through his archaeological pursuits, Joffrey had learned to set aside his pride.
The ancient builders of the Wall might not have understood the fundamental essence of magic as he did, but their ability to create such enduring magical artifacts proved the sophistication of their craft.
He and those long-dead sorcerers were merely reaching the same destination by different paths. There was no need to judge one approach superior to the other.
What other magical secrets might the Wall contain?
He cast his mind back, sifting through the countless fragments of lore stored within his consciousness, until he settled upon a few tantalizing lines of text.
The Black Gate of the Nightfort—a talking door of weirwood, a pale face carved into ancient wood that would open only for sworn brothers of the Night's Watch who recited their sacred oath.
Most definitely worth exploring, he decided, as Rain purred contentedly beside him.
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