They called it the Eye of Remuz long before anyone could agree on what “remuz” meant. Merchants showed the sigil on weathered maps; old veterans traced the curve of a pupil carved into ancient stone; children dared one another to whisper its name at dusk and dared one another to sleep afterward. In the borderlands, beneath the low sun and the low sky, rumors were currency and terror was a tradition. The Object The Eye is a palm-sized, perfectly spherical gemstone darker than moonless water. From within it a single thread of pale light moves as if following a slow, deliberate thought. Touching the Eye brings a pressure behind the eyes and the sudden certainty that something is watching—not the casual gaze of a predator, but a patient, patient observation from across impossible distances and impossible times.