At first, it was just a dry sighâbarely thereâŠ
A second later, it exploded: a deafening roar that shook the whole hall. A chorus of snaps and cracks, like the ground was tearing itself open from the belly of the world.
The cracks beneath their feet glowed, spreading like lightning trapped in stone. And then they burst.
Spikes erupted from the ground. First oneâhuge, sharp as a crystal spear. Then another. And soon a dozen, in all directions, fast and brutal, roaring with frost that tore tiles and dust from the ceiling.
The puddle became a forest of icy blades, growing at impossible speed.
Jon moved on instinct. He leapt aside just as a spike shot up from where heâd been a second before. Another grazed his side, and the pain was instantâa deep gash that burned with cold and blood. He hit the ground, rolled across the tiles, gasping and leaving a dark trail behind him.
He pushed up with his hands, lifted his head, and searched for Daenerys. And he saw her.
She wasnât fast enough. A spike shot through her leg with a sharp, brutal crack. Another pierced her abdomen. A third tore through her chest. Her body arched, hands grasping at the air, as if trying to hold onto something invisible, and a short, guttural scream was lost in the icy gust.
The spikes kept growing, lifting her off the ground, suspending her in the air like a shattered figure on an altar of ice. Her hair hung in disarray, her eyes still open and shining.
And then Jon knew. It wasnât random. It wasnât chance. The Night King had avoided it. He understood the prophecy. And he had struck first.
Jon, wounded, began to crawl toward her. His hands scraped over stone as he left a trail of blood, his whole body shaking, tears freezing on his lashes. He felt nothing else. Only the raw, animal need to reach her.
âDany!â he shoutedâor thought he did; his voice came out as a hoarse growl, swallowed by the wind.
But as he was about to rise, small, firm hands grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down. Arya.
He looked at her, confused, enraged, as she shoved him flat to the floor.
âNo!â he growled, trying to break free. âLet me go!â
âYou canât reach her,â Arya snapped, her dark eyes burning. âLook!â
Jon looked past her. The ground around Daenerys was a hell of icy spikes, still growing, twisting like clawsâimpossible to cross. There was nothing he could do.
But he still fought. He tried to crawl forward again, and Arya pinned him harder, driving her knees into the ground to stop him.
âLet me go!â Jon cried, voice cracking. âDanyâŠ!â
She turned her face to him. Even pierced through, even suspended in the air, she looked at him. That look, for one moment, was still hers. Sad. Resigned. A silent goodbye.
And then, slowly, her gaze dimmed.
Jon froze. His breath turned uneven. His shoulders shook, and he felt something inside him shatter. He couldnât do anything. Nothing at all.
Arya shook him hard, her voice a furious whisper in his ear:
âLook at her, Jon! You canât save her now! But you can save everyone else!â
He didnât answer. His eyes were still locked on Daenerys. But Arya yanked him again, forcing him to turn his head.
âThe vault,â she gasped. âWesteros still depends on us.â
Just beneath the hall, in the vault, a vast stockpile of wildfire waited. If they detonated it, it would destroy the Night Kingâbut also themselves. It was their final hope. And their last sacrifice.
Jon looked at herâand in her eyes, he found the same terrible understanding pounding in his chest. They had no more reasons to stay. Nothing left to protect in this cursed hall. The prophecy had failed. Daenerys was dead. The Night King was still undefeated. But they had one last card to play: wildfire. Blow everything. Kill the monster, even if it meant dying with him. Make it count. It was all they had left. The last thing.
Jon closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and with a strangled grunt, finally gave in. He rose slowly, leaning on Arya and his own will, and together they backed away into the shadowed corridor.
Behind them remained the hallâthe dead brazier, frozen water, jagged ice. And her. Suspended in the air, beautiful and broken, her farewell etched into silence.