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CHAPTER 264
297 AC
POV THIRD PERSON
Rickon Stark sat beneath the ancient weirwood tree; its crimson leaves standing out starkly against the backdrop of the unforgiving northern sky. Despite the biting cold of the Wall's weather, the presence of the weirwood offered him solace, a connection to something greater.
As Rickon watched Skadi weave her magic, a sense of determination welled within him. He sought to replicate her movements, to harness the power of the elements as she did. Beside him, he felt an energy. It was like the whispers of the weirwood seemed to urge him on, guiding his efforts.
But the ice-blue mana remained elusive, slipping through Rickon's grasp like smoke through fingers. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed to evade his every attempt to capture it within himself.
On this bitterly cold day, with the icy wind slicing through the air like a dagger, Rickon struggled to maintain his focus. Each breath he exhaled hung in the frigid air, a visible testament to the harsh conditions. Despite the chill gnawing at his bones, Rickon remained resolute in his determination to master the art of mana manipulation.
"Adrew," he called out, his voice carrying on the icy breeze, "we need a fire. It's colder than usual today. Could you please light a fire? I don't want to leave yet." He was going to continue even if it was too cold.
Adrew wasted no time in gathering dry branches and kindling, his hands working swiftly to build a fire. Before long, flames crackled merrily in the fire pit, casting a warm glow that pushed back against the biting cold of the northern air. Rickon, grateful for the sudden warmth, wrapped his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders and returned his attention to Skadi's magical endeavors.
Watching Rickon's unwavering determination, Adrew couldn't help but admire the young Stark's resilience. Despite his tender age of just eleven name-days, Rickon possessed a tenacity and resolve that belied his youth. It was this determination that pushed him forward.
Each member of their group had attempted to harness mana in the past, but all had met with failure, forcing them to abandon their aspirations. However, Rickon's persistent efforts served as a beacon of hope for them all—a glimmer of possibility in an otherwise bleak landscape.
They envisioned a future where they could transcend their roles as mere wargs or skinchangers, where they could command mana to their bidding and serve their lord with newfound power and mastery. If Rickon succeeded, this dream could become a reality.
High in the ancient weirwood's branches, a majestic snow owl was perched. Its keen eyes scanned the surroundings as it continued to weave its spells. Despite the biting cold and harsh conditions, Rickon remained steadfast in his resolve to learn. His gaze fixed unwaveringly on Skadi's every movement. Rickon observed as Skadi conjured shimmering shards of ice, each one catching the faint sunlight and casting a mesmerizing glow.
Though he had learned the art of manipulating the mana, he faltered when attempting to contain it within himself, his efforts proving futile in the face of its stubborn resistance. He pulled onto the mana exacly as Skadi was doing. He collected it inside his body and circulated the mana through it, but when it came to storing it inside his body or trying to cast the same spell, it just slipped through his body like it was never there.
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For months, Rickon had keenly observed the manahearts of those around him. Poe's manaheart resembled a dark and volatile stormcloud. Skadi's manaheart, on the other hand, emanated a frigid ice-blue hue, evoking a sense of chilling coldness. Nin's manaheart appeared as a dense black mass, exuding an aura of darkness and mystery, while Artio's manaheart manifested as an earthy yellow, reminiscent of a sturdy boulder.
In the past, Aermir, in his attempt to infuse Rickon with mana, wielded his manaheart of pure white light. However, its entry into Rickon's body left him feeling unwell for a month. He felt like his insides were burning.
From his astute observations, Rickon had discerned that the colors of mana corresponded to its inherent nature. However, despite this understanding, none of the hues felt suitable when he attempted to draw them into his body. Rickon focused his efforts on harnessing the purer mana enveloping the weirwood tree, drawn from the ley line itself.
Despite Rickon's resolute endeavors to draw mana into his body, mastery remained elusive. The unrefined, primal essence of mana resisted his attempts at control, slipping through the fissures of his nascent understanding. With each infusion, mana surged erratically, overwhelming his fledgling command and seeping uncontrollably from his form and returning to the weirwood tree.
As Rickon delved deeper into the mystical currents of the ley line, he encountered a surge of wild mana akin to the untamed power he had observed in Aermir's spells. Sensing the potential peril, he promptly halted his draw on the overwhelming force. When he reopened his eyes, they were captivated by the subtle wisps of mana surrounding the campfire.
In this primal setting, the mana around the weirwood tree intermingled with the flames, from its pure form transforming into delicate red wisps that danced around the flames. Rickon found himself intrigued by the change he was witnessing. Up to this moment he had only seen this mana in Aermir's spells and this was the first time he was seeing it exist in the nature. The presence of fire element mana in nature piqued his curiosity, as ordinary flames were not imbued with mana.
Empowered by curiosity and a burgeoning understanding, Rickon seized the crimson wisps, drawing them into his being. To his astonishment, the elemental mana felt distinct—warm, embracing, and teeming with vitality. Unlike the volatile and chaotic nature of his previous struggles, this mana flowed through him with a docile elegance reminiscent of his command over Shaggydog.
With the elemental mana melding effortlessly into his essence, Rickon had a profound realization: his struggle wasn't with control but with finding his natural affinity within the vast spectrum of mana. The fire elemental mana resonated with him in perfect harmony, hinting at an innate proficiency that surpassed mere manipulation.
Rickon, fueled by his newfound understanding, set forth on a journey to forge a connection with the fire elemental mana. Drawing upon the flames dancing around the campfire, he sought to channel their essence into the creation of a manaheart. However, despite his efforts, the ambient fire elemental mana proved insufficient for his needs.
With a surge of excitement, Rickon called out to Skadi, "Skadi! Call Aermir, I need him, I found it! I found a way!" His proclamation stirred a sense of anticipation among his companions, their hearts fluttering with the possibility of unlocking the secrets of mana manipulation. Could Rickon's discovery pave the way for them to harness the power of mana as well?
...
Aermir stood at the forefront of the mountain clan army as they made their way toward Strongsong, the first objective in their campaign. It was Poe and her Murder who had ensured their stealthy approach, guiding them unseen through the labyrinthine animal trails snaking amidst the craggy peaks. These paths were narrow and treacherous, testing the resolve of the men with every step, but with Aermir's mastery of earth magic to smooth their passage, they drew ever closer to their destination.
As they gathered to plan their siege of Strongsong, Aermir felt the familiar tug of one of his animal companions reaching out to him. Though the distance was great, the message conveyed a sense of urgency centered around Rickon Stark. Despite the vague nature of the communication, Aermir's instincts assured him that this development was not a bad thing.
Pausing for a moment of contemplation, Aermir pondered the significance of Rickon's involvement. After thinking about it for a while, excitement came over him. Could it be? Aermir swiftly issued orders for his mountain army to remain concealed. Transforming into the form of an eagle, he took flight towards one of the hidden weirwood trees scattered throughout the Vale, propelled by a sense of anticipation and hope.
Utilizing the weirwood tree to teleport into a village around Old Castle; with the maximum mana he had, he could travel 600 km at maximum with each jump. Rest was essential between jumps, allowing him to replenish his spent mana and prepare for the next leap.
As he drew closer to his destination, the Wall loomed ominously in the distance, a distant yet palpable presence. From here, it was around 1600km to the Wall. He was still too far away to hear anything, but he could feel Skadi's excitement more clearly.
After his second jump, he could hear Skadi and learned Rickon was able to help mana in his body, and they needed his help with collecting more mana. As Aermir's journey neared its culmination, anticipation coursed through his veins, driving him forward with fervent excitement.
The prospect of expanding the ranks of spellcasters beyond himself filled him with exhilaration. It took him two more jumps to reach the Wall. This travel, even while flying, would have taken more than ten days, and he had reached there in two days.