Why does a White Walker sword dissolve when it is killed?

Potential Spoilers Below

I keep telling everyone that similarities between The Wheel of Time (TWOT) and A Song of Ice and Fire (ASOIAF) are vast even if there are those out there that say otherwise.

I wrote an article asking “Why leave a good weapon lying on the ground?”  The answer is simple because it has to do with the Wheel of Time.  Rand al’Thor along with the male Forsaken made swords seemingly out of thin air using the One Power.  If you were to kill someone who wielded a sword using the One Power the sword they made would disappear because when they died the One Power would be negated and with it the sword.  It seems that the White Walker swords adhere to that rule.  When GRRM was asked “Do you know what substance an Other sword is made from?”  he answered: “Ice.  But not like regular old ice.  The Others can do thing with ice that we can’t imagine and make substances of it.”  This to me is similar to what an Aes Sedai can do with the One Power when they seemingly create things from nothing.

Rand laughed. “Do you believe you can frighten me so easily, Forsaken? Ba’alzamon himself has hunted me. Do you think I will cower now for you? Grovel before a Forsaken when I have denied the Dark One to his face?”

“Is that what you think?” Be’lal said softly. “Truly, you know nothing.” Suddenly there was a sword in his hands, a sword with a blade carved from black fire. “Take it! Take Callandor! Three thousand years, while I lay imprisoned, it has waited there. For you. One of the most powerful sa’angreal we ever made. Take it, and defend yourself, if you can!”

He moved toward Rand as if to drive him back toward Callandor, but Rand raised his own hands—saidin filled him; sweet rushing flow of the Power; stomach-wrenching vileness of the taint—and he held a sword wrought from red flame, a sword with a heron-mark on its fiery blade. He stepped into the forms Lan had taught him till he flowed from one to the next as if in a dance. Parting the Silk. Water Flows Downhill. Wind and Rain. Blade of black fire met blade of red in showers of sparks, roars like white-hot metal shattering.

Rand came back smoothly into a guard stance, trying not to let his sudden uncertainty show. A heron stood on the black blade, too, a bird so dark as to be nearly invisible. Once he had faced a man with a heron-mark blade of steel, and barely survived. He knew that he himself had no real right to the blademaster’s mark; it had been on the sword his father had given him, and when he thought of a sword in his hands, he thought of that sword. Once he had embraced death, as the Warder had taught, but this time, he knew, his death would be final. Be’lal was better than he with the sword. Stronger. Faster. A true blademaster.

This perfectly describes Jon Snow.  In the TV show the first time he faced a White Walker, who was similar to a blademaster compared to his skill, he also barely survived.  He caught the White Walker off balance because he had a Valyrian steel sword and that gave him the element of surprised that won him the day.  When all was said and done, he was coughing up blood and had to run for his life in the end.  In the Wheel of Time as Rand fought more one on one sword fights, he quickly elevated to become a blademaster himself.  The TV show is fast tracking this for Jon Snow and so the second time he faced a White Walker he was more confident and defeated it also.  And yes, when a White Walker is killed his blade also melts away to nothing because he was the power that animated it.

The fear that filled Sam then was worse than any fear he had ever felt before, and Samwell Tarly knew every kind of fear. “Mother have mercy,” he wept, forgetting the old gods in his terror. “Father protect me, oh oh . . .” His fingers found his dagger and he filled his hand with that.

The wights had been slow clumsy things, but the Other was light as snow on the wind. It slid away from Paul’s axe, armor rippling, and its crystal sword twisted and spun and slipped between the iron rings of Paul’s mail, through leather and wool and bone and flesh. It came out his back with a hissssssssssss and Sam heard Paul say, “Oh,” as he lost the axe. Impaled, his blood smoking around the sword, the big man tried to reach his killer with his hands and almost had before he fell. The weight of him tore the strange pale sword from the Other’s grip.

Do it now. Stop crying and fight, you baby. Fight, craven. It was his father he heard, it was Alliser Thorne, it was his brother Dickon and the boy Rast. Craven, craven, craven. He giggled hysterically, wondering if they would make a wight of him, a huge fat white wight always tripping over its own dead feet. Do it, Sam. Was that Jon, now? Jon was dead. You can do it, you can, just do it. And then he was stumbling forward, falling more than running, really, closing his eyes and shoving the dagger blindly out before him with both hands. He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks beneath a man’s foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that he went staggering backward with his hands over his muffled ears, and fell hard on his arse.

When he opened his eyes the Other’s armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked.

Sam rolled onto his side, eyes wide as the Other shrank and puddled, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling away in a fine white mist. Beneath were bones like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass dagger remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating. Grenn bent to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. “Mother, that’s cold.”

“Obsidian.” Sam struggled to his knees. “Dragonglass, they call it. Dragonglass. Dragon glass.” He giggled, and cried, and doubled over to heave his courage out onto the snow.

Grenn pulled Sam to his feet, checked Small Paul for a pulse and closed his eyes, then snatched up the dagger again. This time he was able to hold it.

“You keep it,” Sam said. “You’re not craven like me.”

“So craven you killed an Other.” Grenn pointed with the knife. “Look there, through the trees. Pink light. Dawn, Sam. Dawn. That must be east. If we head that way, we should catch Mormont.”

“If you say.” Sam kicked his left foot against a tree, to knock off all the snow. Then the right. “I’ll try.” Grimacing, he took a step. “I’ll try hard.” And then another.

Even though the sword of fire that Rand created using the One Power was formidable it was not as powerful as Callandor.  Callandor was the sword that prophecy said marked him the Dragon Reborn; similar to Lightbringer prophesying the return of Azor Ahai.  That is the reason why I don’t think that Longclaw in the books will be Lightbringer.  In the TV show they will probably make it Lighbringer as they don’t have time to go into Lightbringer fully but in the books, I see Longclaw as similar to Rand’s sword wrought from red flame.  I see Dawn as Callandor as when it shown it appeared brighter than the sun.  You all know that I think Jon Snow takes on some of the characteristics of Rand al’Thor.  Did you notice what Be’lal said to Rand.  He told him “Truly, you know nothing.”  Who have we heard time and again being told they know nothing?  Coincidence?  You take everything I have put together and judge for yourself.

Comments encouraged.  Love to hear the idea’s of others.  Most believe that since I present my idea’s as “fact like” I’m not open to change my viewpoints which is far from the truth.  I simply look at the information presented and go from there.  If you can shine a light on another way of thinking that opens the door to debate.