Chapter 84 — Interfering with Reality
Inside a spacious hall, two rows of bookshelves stood against the walls. Several small tables were arranged between them, and dozens of books lay scattered across the floor.
A girl with dark, curly hair and brown skin was bent over a desk, writing something. As she wrote, she occasionally flipped through a book resting by her left hand.
At a small table to her right sat a silver-haired girl with an aristocratic bearing, carefully reading a volume that appeared to be about history.
Near the scattered books, a little girl with greyscale scars on her face happily picked up the fallen volumes one by one. She examined each cover, flipped through a few pages, then carefully stacked it aside before reaching for the next.
Beside her, a small black dragon hopped among the books, occasionally flapping its wings, sometimes even taking off to hover above the brown-skinned girl's head to watch her writing.
Bran's gaze fixed on the little black dragon, following its movements.
At that moment, the dragon, which had just lifted into the air, suddenly froze mid-flight — then whipped its head around, staring directly at him.
"If you dare spy here again, I'll come kill you."
A childish voice rang out from the little dragon.
Then, from the void behind it, a massive, ferocious dragon's head materialized, carrying overwhelming pressure as it bore down on Bran.
Hiss—
Bran's hand jerked away from the heart tree as if shocked. Agonizing pain exploded in his eyes. He wiped at them instinctively — his palm came away wet and sticky.
Through the red haze clouding his vision, he saw his hand smeared with blood.
"My eyes!" Bran gasped in terror, breathing hard.
"What did you see?!" Brynden demanded urgently, startled by the bloody tears streaming from Bran's eyes.
He had only meant for Bran to experiment with his new abilities — he had never imagined it would result in this.
It had taken great effort to help Bran accept the inheritance, drink the weirwood-seed paste, and awaken his greenseer abilities. If he were to lose his sight on top of losing the use of his legs, Brynden feared Bran might sink into despair and waste the rare gift of a greenseer.
"I… I was looking at a small black dragon." Bran wiped his eyes hard with his sleeve. When he realized he could still see, he slowly relaxed and, after a moment's hesitation, spoke.
"A black dragon? Dragons have been extinct for ages," Brynden said, more shocked by Bran's words than by the bloody tears.
"They've returned. And I've seen that small black dragon before, on the journey north," Bran replied honestly.
"My strength is nearly spent. I could barely guide you here," Brynden said, steadying his emotions. "I never expected true dragons to walk the world again. Tell me everything."
Once Bran learned he could see whatever he wished, he had immediately tried to observe that little black dragon he'd once encountered — to understand why it had shown killing intent toward him back then.
He had seen it. But the dragon had noticed him in return — and injured him.
So Bran told Brynden everything: his earlier meeting with the dragon, the sense of danger he'd felt, and what had just happened.
"You're certain it meant to kill you even back then?" Brynden asked with a frown. He did not believe Bran had imagined it. Even before awakening fully, a greenseer's instincts were sharp.
"Tell me everything else you noticed — including just now."
Bran obeyed. His life was at stake.
"You say the pressure from it grew stronger each time?" Brynden murmured. "How is that possible…"
A greenseer was far more powerful than ordinary priests. How could a young dragon produce such overwhelming spiritual pressure — enough to make a greenseer bleed from the eyes?
Unless…
A thought surfaced, one Brynden scarcely dared accept. Yet it explained both the pressure and why the dragon had wanted Bran dead — it must have sensed something.
"It said 'look again,'" Bran added. "Could another greenseer have watched it before?"
"Greenseers are rarer than miracles. I was lucky to find you before my death. There are no others," Brynden said softly.
(What he did not say was that without certain… methods, even this meeting might never have happened.)
"Then who else could spy on it?" Bran asked.
Brynden did not answer immediately. After a long silence, he said:
"You know of the Old Gods and the New. But there are also the Lord of Light, the Great Other, the Many-Faced God of Braavos, the Drowned God, the river gods of old lands…"
"We follow the Old Gods. The Great Other — the cold god — is represented by the White Walkers."
Bran felt the world tilt. The old stories were true… and there was even more he had never known.
"They're… real?"
Brynden sighed inwardly. Still a child.
"Most of their followers lack the green sight. But some possess other ways to glimpse fate. Other powers may have noticed that dragon's abnormal nature."
"Then why could it sense me?" Bran pressed.
"Dragons are among the most powerful beings in this world. Even gods struggle to bind them. And you are newly awakened — still weak."
"But it was so small!" Bran protested, unwilling to accept being overpowered by something so young.
"That dragon is not ordinary," Brynden said quietly, trying to comfort him. He feared the shock might scar Bran's spirit.
When Bran tried to ask more, Brynden added gently, "You'll understand in time."
Though I may not live to see it… he thought.
"Dragons inherit ancient power. Do not peer recklessly through the green sight. Some great beings can even interfere with reality through it. You must be careful."
With dried blood still on his face, Bran could only nod silently.