Arthur: Very sorry for the extremely late update. As you have known I have been working on my other story Uprising. That story has a lot of demand so i hope you understand. But its time to shift my affection to this story! Enjoy!

Jon

The bastard of Winterfell awoke to the oddest smell and a burning in his chest. Jon whimpered and clutched at it. It felt like a burning sword plunging into his heart. "Make this all end. Make it end," Jon begged, but there was no god to hear his plea. Only pain. What the hell happened? Jon vaguely remembered the butchering of the slaves, the blaze of the brazier, the otherworldly aura that surrounded Euron…and the voices that spoke back.

A chill went through him. A sense of urgency gripped him. Jon tried to get to his feet. His wounds, old and new threatened to topple him. On his arm where the dagger sliced him open oozed blood in front of him. He gritted his teeth, slowly got to his knees, and even longer got to his feet, albeit very shaky.

Jon looked around and stilled, the very breath leaving his being. His eyes bulged out of his head. He openly gaped. His heart raced. A cold sweat quickly appeared on his brow.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Came the sound of Euron's voice.

"This is…This is…This is…"

Jon couldn't complete his thought much less respond to the Greyjoy. He stared horrified at his surroundings, struggling to comprehend.

"It is hard to understand what you are seeing, like a man unused to seeing daylight from being in the darkness for his whole damn life." Euron leaned in near Jon's ear to whisper, "Your resurrection begins here."

The fog that nagged at the flee had disappeared entirely. What replaced it was a scenery of utter absolute magical and dark mysterious wonder. There were statues as tall as trees, Valyrian men and women broken and shattered from years and weathering. Euron's fleet idly moved through water as dark as pitch, surrounded by grotesquely charred buildings that touched reached an ever-blood-ruby sky. The buildings were huge and oddly designed. Their structures were none that Jon had ever seen in his life. There were buildings purely made from obsidian and whatnot that Jon couldn't even describe. Each building was different in structure, but they all had the likeness of dragons. Each one was wrought and worked to resemble the creatures that granted them power. Jon saw one that resumed a tail that reached for the clouds, black and littered with spikes. But it was missing its tip; the piece of structure somewhere missing around the ruins. "They are beautiful…Most of them are recked from the doom, most notably the upper structures." Jon then frowned. "Still remarkable there is something to look at. The Citadel stated that the doom happened from the eruption of the 14 fires. It should've turned the buildings right back to lava…Must be the magic."

He was only proved right when he spied numerous FLOATING landmasses in the far distance, supporting more towers and holdfasts in the freaking AIR. "This is not real," Jon thought dizzily. "This is all a bloody dream. Land does NOT go in the air. This is craziness from a fever. I'm going to wake up from this nightmare at Winterfell and Robb is going to demand me to spar and I will ruffle Arya's messy hair and call her little sister." He pinched his arm and found it was very real.

Jon can see a distance glow in the distance. One of the volcanoes…

Jon can feel the magic of this place. It weighed on him. But it was not the one that inspired glee. It was dark and twisted. Jon had an inkling that he was being watched, though he did not know where.

"What happened here?" Jon whispered. "How did this happen?" For some reason, he did not think a mere volcanic eruption ended the greatest civilization to ever grace the world.

Euron chuckled. "You mean who did this? The fourteen fires indeed played in the part of their demise, true. The Valyrians were at the highest of their prime, magic and dark magic mere toys to be played with at their whim. They became overly confident. That became their undoing. One day they overplayed their hand to seek a power they should have never trifled with. They summoned a creature from another world."

"It destroyed them all." "Gods…" The possibility of another world was unfathomable to Jon, but here was a man telling him there was.

"Correct. The Valyrians and their dragons and slave monsters were the greatest power of their time. But they never encountered a being that not only matched them with firepower but outmatched them. To say they were shocked is an understatement. They were underprepared and they knew it. They took to the skies on their dragons to flee from the monster…but they were snatched out of the air by the creature's tendrils of fire and death, one by one, and dragged into the fourteen fires where they burned to death. Others were vaporized with their dragons the instant its touch contacted with their being, their very bones melting from existence. With that done, the being withdrew to slumber."

"It is in slumber? It is still here?" Jon asked quickly, shakingly. Unbidden, he searched the red sky for a flying bloodthirsty monster with tendrils of death.

"Yes." Euron looked to be amused.

"Why are we here if there's a creature powerful enough to cause the doom?" Jon fought to keep his voice steady. "This madman is going to be the cause of my fucking death. If a thousand or more dragon riders perished at the hands of this monster, what chance do a one-eyed man with a pretty sword and a bastard have? WHERE IS THE SENSE!"

"We are here to kill it," Euron said easily, his blue eye smiling at him.

"No. No. No. No."

"How?" Jon said slowly, his mouth heavy. He had no way of controlling his galloping heart. "

"Simple. Battle its magic with our own. Then we will slay it. First, it is paramount to teach you the way to unlock your own."

Jon had enough. "I have no magic!" He erupted. "This is foolish!" He gripped his dark hair in frustration. "You are going to kill us all!"

A heavy blow in his stomach doubled him over and made him gasp. Then he promptly vomited on the deck. Jon fell on his hands and knees, breathing deeply. Worn-out boots filled his vision. "Do not question my intelligence. My wisdom goes far above that of the plump imbeciles you call lords. I have traveled all over the world, conquering, plundering, and raping. The only time I dealt with defeat…" Euron used the tip of his boot to tilt Jon's head up to meet his eyes. "…Is by the doing of this being." Jon watched in fixed horror as Euron lifted his eyepatch…

…To reveal a startling red light encased in a jagged piece of obsidian. Some force gripped him as the ominous pupil bore into his own. It is nothing human. "What are you?"

Both red and blue eye smiled. "I am your maker."

Jon never saw it coming. He caught a glimpse of steel flashing.

Then there was the pain.

A horrible, horrible pain.

Jon screamed at the top of his lungs as the dagger plunged into his eye socket. Red filled one side of the face. Blood splattered and squirted. Jon twitched and punched uncontrollably. Euron laughed manically as he forced the dagger deeper. With a wet plop, Euron withdrew the dagger with Jon's bloody eyeball impaled on its tip. Half of his face went black.

Jon fell on his back, convulsing on the deck. He was screaming. He was crying too but from only one eye now. The agony crippled him senseless. The blood from his empty socket trailed to Jon's lips in waves. It tasted of bitterness and pain. "HELP ME!"

"To achieve resurrection, you have to die a little, don't you say?" Euron giggled among Jon's screams. "It is but the first step!" Euron put the eye in his mouth and chewed in bliss, crushing the squishy round object between his teeth.

Jon blacked out.

Jon was in the abyss again. Even in his dream, Jon cried.

"My eye! My eye! I lost my eye!" Jon cried out. His hands went to cover an eye that wasn't there; his hands came away with blood and bits of his crushed eye. "My gods, I lost an eye!"

The fake Jon was there to say, "It is expected to lose a little of yourself to become something much greater."

"How does losing an eye lead to GREATNESS!" Jon roared.

Instead of replying, the fake Jon took the same to inhale deeply. "Yes…be angry. Let your anger flow through you." It looked like the being was soaking up his misery.

It infuriated Jon. No, it made him FURIOUS. Jon grabbed his fake image by the throat with a snarl. The fake Jon attempted to disengage. In every single bout, the thing won easily…but suddenly Jon felt him weak. With his hands around the thing's throat, he threw him to the ground with force and straddled him. The fake Jon just smirked at him with two grey eyes; Jon only saw a face that mocked him for losing an eye. The being still had two but Jon only had one.

Fury steamrolled through his blood as Jon rained fist after fist on the thing's face, growling through it all. Even while getting its face smashed in, the fake Jon laughed hysterically. Jon killed him more for that. It… felt good…

As Jon stood up breathing heavily, the bloodied mess very still behind him, it felt like justice doing harm to something that contributed to his misery.

The blazing pain in his eye welcomed him awake with eagerness. Jon found himself back in his room chained to the floor. The agony he is in is immense…

…And something was in a socket where it should be empty.

Slowly his trembling hands rose to touch it. His fingers touched glass, cold, smooth and unnatural. He still couldn't see. And when he blinked there was a sting of pain. "He put a glass in my eye, the same that was in his eye. He is turning me into him." Jon slowly lowered his hand, curling them into fists. It was not easy looking around. His vision was cut in half straight down the middle, making his sight unbalanced. He had to turn his head when he had two eyes he did not. His head started aching from the movement. "He made me a one-eyed bastard."

Hate snaked its way to his chest and froze. The burning in his chest was but a mere dying flame in a blizzard. It was as if hell froze over. "I will kill him," Jon thought with a snarl. "I will kill him and take out his other eye. Then force him to eat it. Let's see how he fares tasting his own." That pleased him greatly.

Jon made a sweep of the room with his one eye, face as cold as stone when he caught sight of a shard of broken glass a few feet away from him. Jon made the move to use his feet when a wave of dizziness stilled him and forced him to close his eyes. His stomach boiled with the temptation of emptying again. Jon hissed and waited for the feeling to pass before attempting again. The chains on his hands rattled as he shifted to bring the glass closer. With it done, Jon was silent as he peered at his reflection.

He expected it but was still shocked at how ghostly he looked. Weeks of poor nourishment and daily tortures made him gaunt with his skin stretched thin over his cheeks. Dark blue bruises were spotted around his head and his lips were busted. His brown hair was messy and dirty and pooled around his shoulders. Many had said he already looked somber; now he looked like death. Most notable was the place where his eye was stabbed out. Where it was usually an eyeball of stormy grey, a glass of the purest black stared in its place. The obsidian was chipped and molded into a shape of an eye, thus fitting into Jon's socket relatively easily. Still, blood can be seen around the edges at its insertion. It is unnerving, to have an eye like that of a storm and the other being the eye of an abyss.

"He will pay for this," Jon told himself. "I will have revenge." It is just a matter of how. Euron has more experience, practices dark magic, is stronger and quicker than Jon, and has Valyrian armor and a Valyrian sword. Jon knew even in his anger that he was horribly outmatched. He did not know what to do frankly. "Learn from him…" It was disgusting to think that, but there was no other option.

The devil of his thoughts came striding through the door with a pep in his step whistling. His eyepatch was back on. Hatred was in Jon's mouth as much as saliva. Euron saw him holding the piece of glass and smiled widely. The look he gave Jon was that of a proud father. It only made Jon's skin prickle.

"I love the new look," Euron said. "It makes you resemble me."

"I don't want to look like you, monster." He just lost an eye to this man, so he kept quiet.

"The old eye had no benefit," Euron stated. "Yes, it gives you a view of a room. But everyone has that. They were born with it. It is nothing noteworthy. That!" He pointed to Jon's obsidian eye. "Is going to separate you from the normal man. That is not ordinary glass, Jon. It is a glass candle the Valyrians used to see across the seas, see and give people dreams and visions, and communicate with unlimited range."

"Dreams and visions?" Jon perked at that instantly. Horror settled into his gut. The Greyjoy had pulled up his eyepatch to reveal a glass candle with a flaring red light very much like a torch. "Is he the reason I'm having those strange dreams?" It was too horrible for it to not be the truth. "He is in my dreams as well as in reality."

"Dreams and visions," Euron repeated, "To give someone the slightest suggestion that can end up starting a war."

"What does that mean?"

"All this power…just at the expense of a little blood." Euron grinned. "We must light it first. That comes with sacrifice. Valyrians did love their sacrifices."

"I am not going to kill for you," Jon thought, but he knows he did not want to die. Euron is going to keep him alive for as long as Jon entertains him. "Survive…Survive, live for the tomorrow."

"You now have an actual eye," Euron said. "It is time to use it."

Two mutes with not a soul in them shouldered through the door to unlock Jon's manacles and dragged him to his feet. Instantly a wave of sickness swept over Jon. Without his eye, he was disorganized. "The whole room looks out of place." He swayed on his feet, but the big mutes held his arms firmly to the point it hurt.

They took him to up to the deck again where the brazier stood in the center with its flames reaching for the red sky. Jon's breath caught at the sight of it. His chest ached and burned.

A glob of mutes stood around an unusual queer-looking being. Jon could only assume he was male. The man was pale like that of a bone, with dark eyes and blue lips. When it saw Jon, it opened its mouth, revealing rows of blue-stained teeth. He was bound at the hands and feet by chains.

"That is a warlock," Euron said. "They are far from what they used to be, though still fearsome. Be careful."

"Be careful?" Jon threw him a questioning gaze. He was turned away as he heard the rattle of chains as the mutes unlocked the warlock's manacles. Two bastard swords were thrown on the ground. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut. He looked back at the Greyjoy.

Euron only offered him a smirk. "Kill it before it kills you." Jon watched in shock as the man's blue eyes rolled to the back of his head. A snarl snapped his head around. The warlock's eyes were now rolled to the back of his head, but their vehemence is clearly towards Jon.

Jon pounced. The warlock did as well. Jon grabbed one of the swords. He endeavored to take the other as well, but the warlock grabbed his hand and bit it with its sharp teeth. Jon grunted in pain and kicked it away, spinning to distance himself. The warlock picked up the sword. Its unnatural long tongue stretched out its mouth lick across its blue lips. Then it was on him. The swords clashed with the loud sound of steel. Jon swung with all his vigor to kill. The warlock did as well, snarling and foaming from the mouth, eyes white.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Jon can feel himself tire. Weeks of abuse and lack of sunlight made him sluggish, his form sloppy and his arms weak. And he was unbalanced from having one eye instead of two. Meanwhile, the warlock across from him seemed like a demon-possessed. Jon tried to keep the warlock in his vision, but the blue-lipped man kept shifting to his blind spot, attacking it ruthlessly. Jon hastily stepped back to avoid a blow that would've chopped his head off and found himself being driven back. Jon's back felt the heat from the brazier, and he stumbled to the left to escape it. The warlock was hot on his heels.

The lack of an eye proved yet again to be costly. Jon tripped over his own feet and crashed to the floor of the deck. The warlock screeched and slashed the sword downward. Jon saw the opening and slashed horizontally, cutting through the bone and skin of the warlock's leg. It was time for the warlock to fall with another screech. Jon leaped to his feet to give a downward slash of his own. The sword neared its chest…

…and the warlock vanished.

Jon's sword struck the deck and wedged between the wooden structure. "What in the hells! Where did it go!"

There was a swoosh of air and the warlock crashed onto his back. The added weight drove them over to the blazer. By instinct, Jon's hands rose to escape a fall. But his hands went inside the brazier and into the fire. Pain laced through his arm. Jon can hardly feel it with the beating of his heart. He raised his burning hand onto the face of the warlock.

The blue lipped man screamed as he covered his burnt face. Jon picked up his sword and swung with all his might. The warlock's eyes rolled back to their normal black. The warlock's head flew and landed at the feet of Euron with a squelch. The body twitched, squirting blood from above before collapsing to the floor. Jon breathed heavily and swayed on his feet.

"Well done." Euron's eye was its normal blue. Euron picked up the head and walked over to Jon. He stopped before him, the bottom of his head dripping blood. Jon tensed his sword tight in his hands.

"Drop it." Euron stared pointedly at the sword.

The sword fell with a thud.

Then the head was in his arms, quickly showering Jon's arms in blood. The warlock's black eyes stared up at him blankly. Jon's arms trembled.

"Let the blood drip into your glass candle," Euron said.

"This is madness. I'm not going to bathe myself in one's blood." Jon can feel his legs tremble.

Euron drew his sword. "You will follow orders." Light from the red sky ran down the dark twisted swirls of the Valyrian blade, giving it a ruddy glimmer.

Jon lifted the severed head. He fought the urge to close his eyelids as the blood oozed onto his brows and seeped into his eyes. Euron stared with naught a blink, so Jon did the same. He bit his lip as the chunky blood filled his vision.

"Good. Now, lift the head over the brazier."

As Jon walked to do just that, Euron started whispering some alien language. The fire hissed and clicked as the blood sparked in the brazier. A warmth enveloped his glass candle, a feeling Jon never thought he will feel again. Then there was a shadow in the fire, writhing…reaching for him. Jon made to move back but was too slow. The shadow leaped and slithered into his face.

Jon screamed. Fire danced in his face. All he saw was red. Everywhere was red. He was drowning in blood. The pain was excruciating. His head was going to explode into flames. Jon was going to die. "Please someone help me!" Jon begged, his glass eye burning and crying. "Please! Anyone! Mother! Mother!"

Jon thought of Robb. "Brother! Brother! Brother!"

"BROTHER!"

Then he was gone.

Jon was in the abyss, the pain gone. "I must be dreaming again," Jon thought. A noise made him turn his head. A man stood with his back turned to him. He had long blue hair that Jon know was dyed. He was tall and lean. When he turned his head, Jon saw that his eyes were a striking violet, his face sharp and beautiful.

"Who are you," the man demanded, his angular face frowning.

"Who are you," Jon countered. "What is going on?"

The man stared at him, jaw moving. "This is just a dream." The man shook his head. He gave Jon a pointed look. "I want you gone."

The words echoed.

GONE, GONE, GONE, GONE.

Jon can feel himself being torn away, torn away from this place. Then he was gone again. He was being sucked away, but he did not know where. He traveled through the darkness at speeds unimaginable. Jon can feel the tears burn down his cheeks. "Please help! Someone help me! Please help me! Someone help me!" Jon thought of Arya. "Sister! Sister! Little sister!"

"SISTER!"

Jon stood in another abyss, breathing haggardly. A tall shapely woman stood before him, looking at him warily. She was strikingly beautiful. She had waist-long black hair and violet eyes. Her face was angular like the man's and had the same beauty. The same face was staring at him in suspicion.

"You have to help me!" Jon begged. "You have to!"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "I don't know who you are."

"Please help me!" Jon was going to sob.

The woman sighed. "This is a very weird dream I am having. I want to dream of something else." She looked at him dismissively. "Go away."

AWAY, AWAY, AWAY, AWAY.

Jon was sucked away. Then he was abruptly back on Euron's deck, sweating profusely. Jon looked around in fear, his breaths coming out in short sharp pants. He was on his stomach, and he dared not get up. There was a burn in his glass eye, though it did not hurt as nearly as much. But Jon can see a reddish flow emit from it, along with colors of the purest white, green…and a black so black that he can see shadows. The shadows were slowly disappearing.

Footsteps approached from his right. "Very impressive, Jon. Very impressive. You managed to travel almost instantly….I couldn't do that." Euron's voice actually for once sounded shocked, and a little bit jealous as well.

"What did you do to me," Jon gasped out. He reached for his glowing eye but stilled, fearing he will burn himself. All of the colors slowly dimmed until only the red one was present.

"I am making you what I want you to be. I have given you one eye. It is time to open another that you have yet to notice." Euron knelt to him, holding out a thick eyepatch. "I am making you great."

"You are making me a monster…"

Jon grabbed the eyepatch.

Arthur: Poor Jon...He is going through pains unimaginable. Let me know what you think in the review! What exactly happened? What did Euron do? What did Jon see?

Until next time!