In Westeros the story was known to every man, woman, and child.
When humanity stood on the brink of extinction, the Children of the Forest and the First Men forged an alliance and discovered the Others' bane—dragonglass. Led by a hero named Azor Ahai, who wielded a sword of living flame called Lightbringer, they finally defeated the Others and ended the Long Night. That final clash became known as the Battle for the Dawn.
The Wall was raised in the years that followed.
When the dead began rising and attacking the living, the Free Folk had accepted that the old tales of the Others were true. Most simply refused to let their minds drift toward the far worse possibility of the Long Night itself.
The Others could be killed. You could run from them. But who could kill the darkness? Who could outrun the cold?
If it was only the Others, the Free Folk could still hope to hide on the other side of the Wall. But if the Long Night returned, endless winter would swallow the whole world. Crops would die, animals would starve, and so would people. There would be nowhere left to run.
So when Mance spoke the words openly, every face in the tent changed.
He hadn't warned Lynn beforehand, so Lynn simply waited to see where this was going.
"I cannot swear the Long Night will come with the Others!" Mance's voice grew heavier. "But every one of you knows the story—how the First Men, led by Azor Ahai and his burning sword Lightbringer, defeated the Others and ended the Long Night!"
He stepped into the only open space left, eyes sweeping the crowd until no one dared meet his gaze. Then he spun and pointed straight at Lynn.
"'Son of the Stars' Lynn Morningstar sailed here from the sea of stars. You all saw the fireball that night!"
"The Thenn Magnar, a man blessed by the gods, watched with his own eyes as the Son of the Stars slew a White Walker with a sword of flame!"
Mance looked at Kassa. The new Magnar rose without hesitation.
"In the name of the gods, I have sworn a blood oath to follow the Son of the Stars forever!"
The tent erupted.
Everyone knew how stubborn the Thenns were. No King-Beyond-the-Wall had ever bent them. Now their Magnar had knelt in all but name.
While the noise still rippled, Mance struck while the iron was hot.
"The gods are weeping blood," he said, pointing at the tent roof toward the red comet burning overhead.
"They foresaw the suffering of their children and sent us a new Lightbringer—the reborn Azor Ahai. He came with his dragon, Weeping Blood Star, to lead the Free Folk against the dark!"
"Look at the dragon's color—scarlet as the comet itself! He does not demand we kneel. He promises land and wealth. All he asks is that we follow him and fight for him!"
Mance spread his arms, waiting.
After days of careful persuasion, he had decided the moment was right. He had already won some of them with cold logic about survival and sweeter promises of Lynn's military merit system.
A few planted chiefs were already starting to stand and cheer when Lynn rose first.
He was a little annoyed—Mance could have given him a heads-up—but he saw the play. And he wasn't entirely unprepared.
He walked to Mance's side and took the broken sword from his hand.
No one noticed the brief instant when both Lynn's and the dragon's eyes flashed milky white. The skinchanger link lasted only a heartbeat, but it was long enough to pass the exact command.
Lynn raised the broken blade. Weeping Blood reared up and unleashed a searing white jet of flame. The heat rolled over the front row like a furnace; men shouted and stumbled backward.
The steel melted almost instantly. Molten drops hissed onto the trampled fur carpet, burning straight through and filling the tent with a new stink of scorched hide.
The spacesuit gloves handled the heat without a problem.
"Sorry about the carpet," Lynn told Mance with a small smile. He dropped the flaming wooden hilt, then drew Dark Sister.
Another jet of dragonfire poured over the blade. To everyone else it looked identical, but Lynn had ordered the dragon to hold back—only a quarter of the heat, looser and less focused. He wasn't sure how much full-strength dragonfire Valyrian steel could take, and he wasn't about to test it.
The little dragon was perfectly capable of fine control. When it roasted its own sheep it used a much gentler flame; otherwise it would have been eating charcoal.
The wildlings didn't know that. They only saw Crowkiller's prized steel sword melt like wax while the Son of the Stars' blade simply glowed dark red. Countless tiny patterns along the steel shimmered and flowed like liquid starlight.
The terrifying heat made men flinch and cry out, yet Lynn stood calm, holding the burning sword exactly as the legends described Azor Ahai.
Whether it was the dragonfire or Mance's talk of the Long Night, the first man to shout "Lightbringer!" threw up his fist. The rest roared with him.
Even Mance looked stunned. The outcome was far better than he had dared hope.
He had to admit Lynn's little performance had been perfectly timed and utterly convincing. All his own careful speeches had been nothing but setup.
The cheering went on for a long time.
Lynn didn't let himself feel triumphant. He watched the crowd carefully and was surprised to see even Varamyr Sixskins—the man he hated most—staring with genuine fanaticism, shouting louder than almost anyone else.
Savagery and superstition really did go hand in hand. No wonder the Thenns had practically worshipped him the moment they met.
It also created a new problem. Some of the people Lynn had already privately marked for the Wall were now looking at him with dangerous loyalty. It would be a lot harder to deal with them later.
It was like raising a vicious dog. No matter how many bad things it did outside, its blind devotion to its master made it painful to put it down.
He suspected Mance had planned it this way on purpose.
When Mance's carefully staged little god-show finally ended, Lynn's new title—Guardian of All Living Beings in Westeros—began spreading through the wildling camp. Most people still found it too long and awkward, so they kept calling him "Son of the Stars."
Lynn didn't care what they called him. As long as the plan kept moving, they could call him Tormund's "Biggest Bullshitter" for all he cared.
With Lynn's new reputation as fuel, Mance's recruitment drive finally caught fire.
It was still messy, still full of unexpected headaches, but at least the fighting-age men from every clan were finally being pulled together.