Shift...
The two combatants approached each other. All others not dead and dying, avoided them not precisely out of terror, but in the way one intentionally avoids standing twixt two charging bulls, lest they be crushed between titans. Rand Al'Thor, Lews Therin Telamon, call him what you will, chuckled softly as his boots crushed something with every step, Aran' Gar, Mesanna, Semirhage, Graendal, Demandred, Fain, Dreadlords, Trollocs, Fades, men, Ogier, Asha'man, Aes Sedai, women. Ba'alzamon or Moridin, whatever you want to call him, the betrayer of hope had died by the bars of molten fire. Living creatures' no longer, just lifeless vessels of his making. All his it was. No! It was not. All Shai'tan's, not by the hand of the Dragon were they so. The Cara'carn strode forward, raised Aiel or no, Rand Al'Thor was going to make the Father of Lies meet toh. Lews Therin Telamon howled with fury. You made me slay my Ilenya. For that, I will slay you ten thousand times over. A thousand of thousands for the Maidens, every death I lay at your feet Shai'tan. That was Rand. The 'other-one' snarled in anticipation of the coming bout.
The great darkness that was Shai'tan laughed, coming to challenge him, the Dragon carrying Callandor, and a statuette of a bearded man holding a crystal orb. He could see another Sa'angreal at the side of the Dragon, as powerful as Callandor, but one of those was not enough. A channeler could not draw from three Sa'angreal at once, The Dark Lord laughed, a terrible, booming laugh that echoed throughout the battlefield.
DRAGON! SURRENDER TO ME AND I WILL LET YOU SERVE, LEST YOUR SOUL BE DESTROYED! SERVE SHAI'TAN OR END AS YOU DID LAST TIME. SLAYING YOUR KIN BY YOUR OWN HAND.
Rand could feel the Dark One outside the now wide-open bore, twisting, and writhing with a power unknown, it began to lash out at him. The pain began to force him to his knees, he sobbed, all had failed. The son of Janduin closed his eyes. He would never see Elayne, Min, or Aviendha again, They would all die. Three threads of life, all life represent.
Victory in sight, Shai'tan made the onetime mistake of all villains, gloating.
I WIN AGAIN LEWS THERIN... YOU HAVE FAILED, NOW THAT I HAVE WON, YOU WILL SERVE ME IN DEATH ALONE OR SAVE YOUR FUTILE RACE-SERVE ME AND LIVE. BOW DOWN!
Then, the Dragons awoke...
The Cara'carn let fly a cry of rage primeval, a cry almost inhuman, it even gave the Dark One pause. Massive swaths of the one Power enshrouded the Dragon. Lews Therin Telamon gave an exultant cry of triumph as he more or less physically stepped out of Al'Thor himself first incorporeal but becoming solid, and in turn gave cry whilst another distinct being, unrecognizable to both Al'Thor and Telamon, stepped out from the scarred form of the Kinslayer. The face of the battle had changed.
Rand's eyes went wide open as two connections to untainted Saidin mushroomed about him, each as strong as his own.
The son of Janduin then felt the hand of another gripping Callandor, he glanced over and knew that the owner of the aforementioned hand to be Lews Therin Telamon. The Kinslayer raised Callandor above his head, the power within him increasing hundredfold.
Throughout the world, male channelers felt the waves of Saidin that radiated from Shayol Ghul, Asha'man who had not been involved in the fighting of Tarmon Gaidon felt the blood drain from their faces. To all of the wielders of Saidin, this titanic drawing of it was somehow both comforting and terrifying. All could sense that someone was drawing enough of the male half of the Power to shatter the world like some estranged egg. Soldiers at the Black Tower felt the raging pulses of that drug, Saidin, and were comforted somewhat in knowing of the Dragon's final duel with the Dark One.
Rand felt the other sa'angreal be removed from his hand, still focusing upon his great enemy, he cast a glance over to his left and saw an odd looking fellow standing there. The other man's eyes were slanted; somewhat like those of a Sharaman, but the complexion was that of a Seanchan. Rand also knew this other man to be the Dragon. Al'Thor, Telamon, the stranger; all three Dragons drank deeply of Saidin thru sa'angreal, the Power flowing thru all three like an implacable, raging storm that smashes the stoutest timbers into mere matchsticks, and turns safest port into the most lethal of waters.
The Dark One nearly cried out in pain as each thread of Saidin, unsoiled by his touch, lashed upon him. Each thread a kiss of the dread separation was, drawing its victim in for the final embrace that leads to eternal night. This mighty trinity of links to the very life force of The Great Serpent, roared with a trinity of Saidin, three stars pulsing in unison, outshining all the flows of the male half ever wielded before.
Lews Therin smiled inwardly, an idea for a variation of the seals put in place millennia ago forming in his mind. There was nothing for him to live for; the prophecies required the blood of the Dragon. They would have it. All in all, the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.
He nodded to the other two men who took the title of Dragon, idea communicating in a mere instant.
Callandor in hand, he drank deeply of Saidin, a roaring sea of power flowing thru him. The Kinslayer merely laughed as he drew far more than ever thought possible. A throbbing began in his head, the first warning of over-channeling. Lews Therin laughed and continued drawing upon Saidin. The throbbing increased, yet he laughed harder-tears running down his face.
The sword that is not a sword lifted from his hands, blade bright to make a star seem dark.
To any normal observer, it would have appeared then that Lews Therin became limp in death, falling to the ground. Yet Callandor rose still, pulsing with the soul of the Kinslayer now.
Uninhibited by the frailties of his mortal form, Lews Therin drank deeper upon Saidin.
A weaver may start with the finest threads, blue and gold, royal purples, yet the threads are alone easily snapped. But when woven, their strength is great.
Flows of fire, air, spirit, earth, and water surged together. Massive in size were they.
Lews Therin's very soul wove the threads together, complex beyond reason. Then, the mass of flows began to encircle him, a cyclone of the Power.
The eldest of the trinity of Dragons then collapsed, a pulsing star rising from his chest.
It soared upwards, to rest upon the point of Callandor, both pulsing in a mighty star of the One Power.
Rand Al'Thor heard two voices inside his head, nearly shouting-in a purely metaphysical sense of course, but they spoke in unison. The time to finish this was now.
Al'Thor, the fire is yours to spark.
Not hesitating, Rand channeled. A flow of spirit, intricate as it was huge, kissed the pulsing blade of the Sword that is not a sword.
The Dark One then felt the fury of Saidin as it struck, wounding him, driving him, hungering to consume him. Shai'tan felt fear, absolute terror. It seemed that just as the pulsing star of the One Power burst in all its fury, his perception began to grow hazy- gradually shifting towards a state of nonexistence. He could feel the bore as he was pushed back through it, his own strength suddenly seemed feeble…
An unearthly howl of rage resounded through the Blight as the bore closed. The souls of Lews Therin and the other who claimed the name, "Dragon, " gave a whisper of thanks, audible to Rand alone and departed. Utter silence reigned over the battlefield.
The two combatants approached each other. All others not dead and dying, avoided them not precisely out of terror, but in the way one intentionally avoids standing twixt two charging bulls, lest they be crushed between titans. Rand Al'Thor, Lews Therin Telamon, call him what you will, chuckled softly as his boots crushed something with every step, Aran' Gar, Mesanna, Semirhage, Graendal, Demandred, Fain, Dreadlords, Trollocs, Fades, men, Ogier, Asha'man, Aes Sedai, women. Ba'alzamon or Moridin, whatever you want to call him, the betrayer of hope had died by the bars of molten fire. Living creatures' no longer, just lifeless vessels of his making. All his it was. No! It was not. All Shai'tan's, not by the hand of the Dragon were they so. The Cara'carn strode forward, raised Aiel or no, Rand Al'Thor was going to make the Father of Lies meet toh. Lews Therin Telamon howled with fury. You made me slay my Ilenya. For that, I will slay you ten thousand times over. A thousand of thousands for the Maidens, every death I lay at your feet Shai'tan. That was Rand. The 'other-one' snarled in anticipation of the coming bout.
The great darkness that was Shai'tan laughed, coming to challenge him, the Dragon carrying Callandor, and a statuette of a bearded man holding a crystal orb. He could see another Sa'angreal at the side of the Dragon, as powerful as Callandor, but one of those was not enough. A channeler could not draw from three Sa'angreal at once, The Dark Lord laughed, a terrible, booming laugh that echoed throughout the battlefield.
DRAGON! SURRENDER TO ME AND I WILL LET YOU SERVE, LEST YOUR SOUL BE DESTROYED! SERVE SHAI'TAN OR END AS YOU DID LAST TIME. SLAYING YOUR KIN BY YOUR OWN HAND.
Rand could feel the Dark One outside the now wide-open bore, twisting, and writhing with a power unknown, it began to lash out at him. The pain began to force him to his knees, he sobbed, all had failed. The son of Janduin closed his eyes. He would never see Elayne, Min, or Aviendha again, They would all die. Three threads of life, all life represent.
Victory in sight, Shai'tan made the onetime mistake of all villains, gloating.
I WIN AGAIN LEWS THERIN... YOU HAVE FAILED, NOW THAT I HAVE WON, YOU WILL SERVE ME IN DEATH ALONE OR SAVE YOUR FUTILE RACE-SERVE ME AND LIVE. BOW DOWN!
Then, the Dragons awoke...
The Cara'carn let fly a cry of rage primeval, a cry almost inhuman, it even gave the Dark One pause. Massive swaths of the one Power enshrouded the Dragon. Lews Therin Telamon gave an exultant cry of triumph as he more or less physically stepped out of Al'Thor himself first incorporeal but becoming solid, and in turn gave cry whilst another distinct being, unrecognizable to both Al'Thor and Telamon, stepped out from the scarred form of the Kinslayer. The face of the battle had changed.
Rand's eyes went wide open as two connections to untainted Saidin mushroomed about him, each as strong as his own.
The son of Janduin then felt the hand of another gripping Callandor, he glanced over and knew that the owner of the aforementioned hand to be Lews Therin Telamon. The Kinslayer raised Callandor above his head, the power within him increasing hundredfold.
Throughout the world, male channelers felt the waves of Saidin that radiated from Shayol Ghul, Asha'man who had not been involved in the fighting of Tarmon Gaidon felt the blood drain from their faces. To all of the wielders of Saidin, this titanic drawing of it was somehow both comforting and terrifying. All could sense that someone was drawing enough of the male half of the Power to shatter the world like some estranged egg. Soldiers at the Black Tower felt the raging pulses of that drug, Saidin, and were comforted somewhat in knowing of the Dragon's final duel with the Dark One.
Rand felt the other sa'angreal be removed from his hand, still focusing upon his great enemy, he cast a glance over to his left and saw an odd looking fellow standing there. The other man's eyes were slanted; somewhat like those of a Sharaman, but the complexion was that of a Seanchan. Rand also knew this other man to be the Dragon. Al'Thor, Telamon, the stranger; all three Dragons drank deeply of Saidin thru sa'angreal, the Power flowing thru all three like an implacable, raging storm that smashes the stoutest timbers into mere matchsticks, and turns safest port into the most lethal of waters.
The Dark One nearly cried out in pain as each thread of Saidin, unsoiled by his touch, lashed upon him. Each thread a kiss of the dread separation was, drawing its victim in for the final embrace that leads to eternal night. This mighty trinity of links to the very life force of The Great Serpent, roared with a trinity of Saidin, three stars pulsing in unison, outshining all the flows of the male half ever wielded before.
Lews Therin smiled inwardly, an idea for a variation of the seals put in place millennia ago forming in his mind. There was nothing for him to live for; the prophecies required the blood of the Dragon. They would have it. All in all, the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.
He nodded to the other two men who took the title of Dragon, idea communicating in a mere instant.
Callandor in hand, he drank deeply of Saidin, a roaring sea of power flowing thru him. The Kinslayer merely laughed as he drew far more than ever thought possible. A throbbing began in his head, the first warning of over-channeling. Lews Therin laughed and continued drawing upon Saidin. The throbbing increased, yet he laughed harder-tears running down his face.
The sword that is not a sword lifted from his hands, blade bright to make a star seem dark.
To any normal observer, it would have appeared then that Lews Therin became limp in death, falling to the ground. Yet Callandor rose still, pulsing with the soul of the Kinslayer now.
Uninhibited by the frailties of his mortal form, Lews Therin drank deeper upon Saidin.
A weaver may start with the finest threads, blue and gold, royal purples, yet the threads are alone easily snapped. But when woven, their strength is great.
Flows of fire, air, spirit, earth, and water surged together. Massive in size were they.
Lews Therin's very soul wove the threads together, complex beyond reason. Then, the mass of flows began to encircle him, a cyclone of the Power.
The eldest of the trinity of Dragons then collapsed, a pulsing star rising from his chest.
It soared upwards, to rest upon the point of Callandor, both pulsing in a mighty star of the One Power.
Rand Al'Thor heard two voices inside his head, nearly shouting-in a purely metaphysical sense of course, but they spoke in unison. The time to finish this was now.
Al'Thor, the fire is yours to spark.
Not hesitating, Rand channeled. A flow of spirit, intricate as it was huge, kissed the pulsing blade of the Sword that is not a sword.
The Dark One then felt the fury of Saidin as it struck, wounding him, driving him, hungering to consume him. Shai'tan felt fear, absolute terror. It seemed that just as the pulsing star of the One Power burst in all its fury, his perception began to grow hazy- gradually shifting towards a state of nonexistence. He could feel the bore as he was pushed back through it, his own strength suddenly seemed feeble…
An unearthly howl of rage resounded through the Blight as the bore closed. The souls of Lews Therin and the other who claimed the name, "Dragon, " gave a whisper of thanks, audible to Rand alone and departed. Utter silence reigned over the battlefield.