The wind whispered over the camp that night low, steady, and sharp like a cold blade sheathed in breath.
We had traveled without incident since leaving King's Landing, riding the kingsroad northward toward Winterfell. As the sun set, our company made camp in the thick of the Wolfswood, the ancient trees standing silent witness to a convergence of legacies old and new.
Beneath thick woolen blankets and furs, I drifted into slumber my breath slow, body weary from the road, mind stretched between two worlds.
And then came the dream. It began like a lucid whisper, somewhere between a dream and a memory I never lived.
Two dragons soared high over a burning battlefield, locked in a deadly dance of fang and flame. One black, sleek and elegant, the other green, brutish and armored in bone-like plates. Their riders screamed oaths of vengeance across the sky, blades flashing.
I watched from some high place, untouchable and invisible, as they collided in mid-air.
Claws. Fire. Teeth. Roars that shook the clouds. Both dragons fell, wings shredded, blood steaming as it hit the ground.
Their riders followed them down doomed, defiant, dead. The moment replayed again. Then again. A thousand cracks across history.
I gasped awake.
"Samar."
My father's voice pulled me fully from the dream, low and even. "Grab your dagger and follow me."
I blinked, still groggy, but nodded. "Y-yes, sir."
The campfire was dying, its embers glowing like the eyes of sleeping gods. I slid from my cot, dagger in hand, and followed Father through the silent camp.
Two Drakon Blades stood at attention by the treeline, their cloaks catching the moonlight.
"The target has not moved," one said. "Good," my father replied. "Resume your watch. I will finish this post when I return with my son ."
The two warriors looked stunned honored, even. "Yes, my lord. Thank you."
Their bows were deeper than usual. Something about this night was different.
We entered the woods, the torch Father carried casting a low, flickering glow across bark and stone. Each step crunched against cold earth, frost stiffening the fallen leaves beneath our boots.
My father spoke as we walked, his voice slow, instructive.
"Son… have you ever seen lines?"
"Lines?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
"Lines like cracks on glass… but not in glass in space, in people. In things."
My eyes widened. I knew this and recognized what he was talking about. Shatterpoints.
Mace Windu's gift in Star Wars. The perception of fracture, the ability to sense the one critical weakness in anything moment, person, structure.
"I haven't," I answered honestly.
"That's alright," Father said. "Our ancestors, those who first came to Essos and founded our bloodline, called it Dragon's Eye. It made us feared. Made us superior even to the Targaryen's."
That didn't surprise me. Of course the Drakons would claim superiority. But what stunned me was the implication: This family has wielded this ability after the time of arriving to Essos.
"There's a way to unlock it forcefully," he said, tone grim. "And I'm going to show you."
My heart pounded. "Is it dangerous?" I asked. "Yes," he said without hesitation. "But it's also the path to power… that will help ascend to the top of this world. But it will not be easy and you will see this world and others differently. You will see their lies and weaknesses more."
We continued deeper into the trees until we came to a clearing and there, standing like a ghost from a Stark banner, was a giant direwolf.
It was white as moonlight. Eyes the blue of the Wall.
I reached for my dagger instinctively. "No," my father said quietly, raising a hand. "You won't need that."
I froze. The wolf saw us. It moved fast, silent, deadly. My father did not flinch.
He turned slightly, just enough to face me, arms still folded behind his back. "Watch me, son and don't blink not even for a second."
His amethyst eyes changed swirling into a familiar, haunting yellow glow. The eyes of a Sith.
In one breathless instant, the direwolf lunged only to collapse mid-stride, a wet thud echoing in the woods.
Its body lay still and in my father's hand… was its head. Blood dripped from his fingers. He hadn't moved. Not visibly.
I stared, stunned beyond words. Even in all my memories of Jedi… of Sith… I had never seen something like this.
Not Luke. Not Mace. This was something different. He moved so quickly I couldn't even track it, and he ripped of the wolfs head with his bare hands. Just how powerful are my parent's ?
He turned toward me, removing something from his cloak. A pair of dark-tinted glasses.
I thought to myself. I didn't remember seeing anyone one the original series actually have glasses. Could they have prescription glasses or a version of them I wondered.
I stared at the sunglasses, utterly out of place in.
"Your eyes," he explained, "will strain. You'll see weakness everywhere. Every person, every object, every structure will be screaming for you to break it. If you're not careful… That is the dangerous side to this method some can unlock it naturally but I had to do this way."
He tapped his temple. "Your mind will break from seeing the cracks for to long without proper protection and training."
I nodded slowly, finally understanding. The Dragon's Eye wasn't just a power. It was a curse of clarity.
"I got this ability in my twenties," he said. "Too late. The body resists the forceful change. The mind rejects the truth. But you…"
He looked at me with pride. "You're still young. So you can adapt quicker . That's why I chose now."
He smiled and chuckled. "Still, I have to wear these things for an hour a day like some cursed maester. If I don't… well, let's just say I start seeing too much."
This is big, I could get the ability of shatterpoint. Well the draw backs aren't wanted, but what can I do.
"I'm ready," I said, voice firm. He nodded once. "Then kneel."
I dropped to my knees in the frozen grass, heart hammering. My father stepped behind me. "This will hurt,so be strong my son" he warned.
Then, with only a single finger, he pressed against the nape of my neck. Then a flash light struck my eyes. Followed by what felt like a surge of electricity down my spines and eyes.
My world exploded in pain and light. There was no scream my body tried, but nothing came out.
My limbs spasmed violently and my mind filled with static, a high-pitched ringing splitting my thoughts apart.
I saw stars and white lights. I saw cracks. I saw everything.
Then In the infinite dark, beneath the scream of my nerves on fire and pain then I saw them. The Shatterpoints, fractures in the world itself and then I understood I saw the true world.