Chapter 57

"I don't know, but I can make an educated guess," Melisandre said, her lips curling into a faint smile as she gave Aegor a playful wink. "After all, I'm sitting across from the first White Walker slayer Westeros has seen in centuries, am I not?"

By the end of their discussion, the once-hostile atmosphere had inexplicably warmed into something more amicable. Aegor couldn't help but marvel at the conversational prowess of this ancient sorceress—who knows how long she had lived? Her ability to steer dialogue was astounding. Faced with her skillful charm, Aegor could only maintain a stoic expression and bark, "Enough nonsense. Get on with your guesses."

"From the visions I've seen and your description of how the White Walker perished, their bodies seem to be entirely sustained by magic, with hardly any physical substance," Melisandre began. "All living things can be harmed by physical weapons or magic, but there are two ways to nearly negate physical attacks entirely—"

"Immunity to physical damage," Aegor interjected.

"An interesting term, one of your inventions, no doubt," she said with an approving nod. "It fits. Creatures in the natural world strive for stronger, tougher bodies to approach this goal—like turtles or dragons, which rely on sturdy shells or scales. But gods, of course, have other means. The Cold God has taken the opposite route: by fully magicalizing the bodies of its servants, the White Walkers gain near-complete immunity to physical damage. Unless overwhelmed by sheer brute force, their forms are almost indestructible."

"So why are they vulnerable to dragonglass?"

"It’s not the obsidian itself they fear but the fire-aspected magic contained within it," Melisandre explained with absolute confidence. "This magic is the antithesis of the Cold God’s essence. When the two clash, the fire disrupts the ice magic that binds their forms together, causing them to collapse and disintegrate."

"The Lord of Light is a god of fire, isn’t he? You claim to be his servant, so shouldn’t you excel in fire magic?"

"In truth, fire magic is the only kind of magic I can wield," Melisandre admitted candidly. "But if you’re hoping I’ll join you at the Wall to fight the White Walkers, I’m afraid I cannot. Not only because I have a greater mission, but also… because I cannot kill a single White Walker."

"What?" Aegor frowned. "Are you saying your fire magic is weaker than the magic contained in a dragonglass dagger?"

"Have you forgotten what I said? The Cold God is the Lord of Light’s eternal foe. If its servants could be destroyed by a simple fire spell, this war would have ended centuries ago," Melisandre explained, shaking her head. "The White Walkers’ bodies are nearly incorporeal, but ‘nearly’ is the key word. Were they purely magical, even the smallest fire spell could scatter them. The trace of physical substance they retain prevents such an outcome."

She raised a hand and lightly traced her fingers across the thin black fabric of Aegor’s tunic. "If I were willing to expend the cost, I could ignite every thread of cloth on your body in an instant. You’d suffer severe burns, perhaps even death if untreated. But if I used this same spell on a White Walker?"

Aegor leaned back slightly, subtly avoiding her touch. "It wouldn’t ignite at all?"

"Exactly. It wouldn’t ignite at all," Melisandre said with a knowing smile as she withdrew her hand. "Their bodies are entirely shaped by magic, but they’re covered by a thin layer of ice armor. Ordinary weapons can break through this armor but won’t harm their core. Fire magic threatens them, but it can’t pierce through their physical form. Only by combining physical force to break their outer defense with fire-aspected magic to disrupt their internal stability can they be truly destroyed. That’s how your dragonglass dagger killed the White Walker—the blade’s sharpness penetrated its exterior, while the magic within destabilized the ice magic binding its form."

She paused, adding, "Of course, a sufficiently powerful destructive fire spell could kill a White Walker outright, but no one alive today possesses that level of fire magic."

"Then how about Valyrian steel? Legend says it can also kill White Walkers. What’s the explanation for that?"

"Valyrian steel is a misnomer—it’s not steel at all," Melisandre corrected. "The proper name should be Valyrian metal. If you ever test it with a magnet, you’ll see it contains no iron and thus cannot truly be called steel. The Valyrians forged this material by combining rare metals with powerful magic, creating something incredibly light and durable. I’ve examined it myself, and it’s clear the forging process involved potent fire magic, traces of which linger even after centuries."

"An alloy, then? So Valyrian steel is actually a Valyrian alloy?" Aegor suggested.

"An… alloy?" Melisandre frowned in confusion, unfamiliar with the term. "Call it whatever you like. The name is irrelevant."

"I see. To kill a White Walker, the simplest method is to breach its body and destroy its structure with a substance imbued with fire magic," Aegor concluded, though the thought gave him a pang of unease. "But what if the next White Walker I face is wearing armor? How do I kill it then?"

"In most cases, armor severely hinders movement and spellcasting. Magic isn’t particularly penetrating, so the caster’s attire must be light and simple—which is why I never wear undergarments or outerwear," Melisandre said with a sly smile. "If you forced me into full plate armor, my spells would lose at least half their potency. But who’s to say the White Walkers won’t take your advice? If they do, my suggestion is simple—use your brain and figure it out when the time comes."

No undergarments? Aegor’s gaze involuntarily dipped before he quickly corrected himself. Realizing he’d already spent far too long on this conversation, he stood. "You’re not very helpful."

"Perhaps not. Apologies," Melisandre said, rising as well. "But aren’t you the expert in killing White Walkers?" Her tone shifted as she continued, "Before you go, know this: I’ve erased the mark left by the ‘demigod’ within you, but I’ve left behind the aura of the Lord of Light. It will protect you from further harm by such entities. You’re free to act as you wish."

"You erased one mark only to leave another?" Aegor’s frustration flared. "What’s the point? Neither of these so-called gods are good!"

"Wherever fire burns, the Lord of Light’s influence can reach. With his mark, no servants of the Cold God or rival demigods will harm you. And if you’re worried about me watching you constantly, rest assured—I lack both the power and the inclination," she said nonchalantly. "I’ve expended my strength to do this as an apology for earlier. Believe it or not, that’s up to you. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remove the Cold God’s mark—it’s beyond my power. My only advice is this: avoid venturing north of the Wall."

Aegor wanted to demand that Melisandre remove her own meddling, but he realized it would be pointless. Even if she lied and claimed she had undone it, how would he, with no understanding of magic, know the truth? Deciding to focus on practical matters, he asked, "Didn’t you say the Cold God’s mark on me was weak? Why can’t you erase it when you managed to remove the stronger one?"

"A wolf can bite through a hatchling dragon, yet dragons are stronger than wolves," Melisandre replied with a sigh. "The Cold God, though weakened, is a true god, just awakening from slumber. As winter comes, its strength will only grow. The demigod opposing it in the North, however, is waning, nearing death."

She gave him a solemn look. "The Long Night is full of peril. Take care, my Night’s Watch friend. And before you leave, please inform the guards at the door that we’ve resolved our misunderstanding. We both have more pressing matters to attend to, don’t we?"

Aegor had no more anger left in him. Pausing at the door, he gave a slight nod, then stepped out.