*JON — BEYOND THE WALL*
The wind beyond the Wall had teeth.
Jon Snow pulled his cloak tighter, but it did nothing. The cold here was not the honest cold of Winterfell. It was wet and sly. It crept down his neck, into his boots, into his bones.
They had been walking for weeks. Three hundred black brothers, spread thin through the haunted forest. The Great Ranging, Mormont called it. To find Benjen. To find the wildlings. To find out why the dead were walking.
Ghost was restless. His red eyes never left the trees.
"Stay close, boy," Qhorin Halfhand said to him that morning at the Fist. Qhorin only had half a hand, but he still held a sword like he meant it. "The woods are full of eyes that aren't ours."
Jon nodded. His sword Longclaw was heavy on his back.
They had stopped at Craster's Keep. That place still turned his stomach — the old man with his daughter-wives, the cold look he gave baby boys. Mormont knew. Everyone knew, but no one said it.
Now the Fist of the First Men rose under snow, ancient, ringed in stone. Crows dug in. Fires burned low. And beyond, the Frostfangs glowed white under a moon that never seemed to set.
Qhorin chose him.
"You," he said. "Snow. You're Ned Stark's son. You can keep up."
They left to scout Skirling Pass. Just five of them. Squire Dalbridge with his bow, Ebben, Stonesnake, Qhorin, and Jon.
They climbed. They didn't eat enough. They didn't sleep.
Then the wildlings found them.
Jon remembers Ygritte first. Not the spear at his throat, but her hair. Like fire under dirty snow. Her knife at his throat and her laugh.
"You know nothing, Jon Snow," she said when he told her he had to kill her. He let her go.
Qhorin looked at him after that and Jon knew he'd disappointed him.
They were surrounded later. Rattleshirt and a hundred more. Jon could have died. He should have died.
Qhorin grabbed his arm in the snow, so hard his fingers dug through wool.
"Remember us," he whispered, so only Jon could hear. "Make them think you are one of them. For the Watch."
Jon understood. Or thought he did.
So Jon drew Longclaw. So Qhorin drew his sword with his left hand — the maimed hand that made him deadly.
They fought. Steel rang. The snow turned red.
And Jon Snow, bastard of Winterfell, killed Qhorin Halfhand — his brother — to live.
The wildlings cheered. Ygritte cried.
When Jon stood over Qhorin, breathing hard, his blade wet, Ghost nowhere in sight, the Lord of Bones pointed a bone spear at him.
"Welcome to the free folk, crow."
Beyond the Wall, Jon Snow walked south — with the enemy.
He was alone.
STORM'S END.........
Aegon stands in front of the fire altar, on the altar was a red blade, The katana lay on the dark wood floor like a sleeping dragon.
Its *scabbard (saya)* was deep crimson-black, not lacquered plain — carved all over with ancient, coiling cloud-dragons and Valyrian glyphs that seemed to move when light hit them.
The *hilt (tsuka)* was the same blood-red, textured like dragon scales for grip, not wrapped in cord like normal katanas.
At the guard — instead of a normal tsuba — a *feral dragon's head* snarled, mouth open, teeth biting down onto the blade itself. Its eyes glowed faintly. The pommel at the end was a claw clutching a gem.
And the *blade itself* —
Not silver. Not black. It was a mirror that caught fire.
From tip to base, a gradient burned: violet at the point, melting into molten orange-red in the middle like captured dragonfire, then fading back to silver. Along the edge, white Valyrian / High Valyrian runes were etched — _Dragonflame script_ that lit up when Aegon touched it. Sharp tanto tip, straight temper line, built to cut through armor and White Walkers alike.
It didn't look forged. It looked _hatched_.
> [You have obtained: Red Dragon Katana — Unbreakable]
> _Material: Valyrian Steel + vibranium Core_
> _Ability: Cuts through wight flesh, never dulls, resonates with Voidscale's fire._
>_Store kinetic energy and release it. _
"...." Aegon was speechless when he saw the description for the katana, a chuckle escaped his mouth and pick up the sword, the runes on it pulsed under his thumb, warm.
Voidscale, Aegnis and Chaosfyre felt the threat coming from the katana, they gather round him and claws at his feet, he escaped to the middle of the ranch and makes a low sword drawing stance "Fuhhh!", he breathes out
{Thunder breathing first form!}
Crackkk!!, he disappear from his position and appears 20 meter upfront.
{Thunderclap and flash !!}
BOOMMM!!