Moridin looked out across the eternal night of the new world. The Great Lord, Shai'tan, had finally defeated Lews Therin. Aginor's creation, the gholam, had taken care of those two troublesome women, after dealing with the boy. The wolf man had been destroyed by Graendal after she finished her foolish disguise of Berewin, or whatever the wench's name was. Mesaana had severed that other woman, before she could dispose of Mesaana's puppet. And Lews Therin… His eyes slightly glazed as he thought back to that day, a mere six days gone.

The seals were finally broken, destroyed in a fit of madness by Lews Therin's own hands. Now all the plans were set, now Lews Therin could die. Moridin closed his eyes as he felt the touch of the Great Lord upon his mind, his very soul. ISHMAEL, THE TIME HAS COME. LEAD MY DOGS TO TARMON'GAIDON, AND OUR ETERNITY LONG BATTLE WILL END. FINALLY WILL THE CREATOR BOW TO MY FEET. No longer need you be at what the commons of this land called the Pit of Doom for the Great Lord to touch you. Moridin smiled a slightly crooked smile, thinking that some of the other Chosen found that less than pleasing. And so, he contacted the remaining Chosen and sent them to ready the trollocs and Myrddraal, the Draghkar and Darkhounds. Now the Great Lord comes….

Moridin drew up his horse on the top of the hill, where he could se the battle raging below. Lews Therin had foolishly gotten himself caught up in that seething mass of blood and death. Even being able to channel can't stop a stray arrow. The other Chosen were at work, raining death and fire on the bodies below. The children from their White Tower had been destroyed at the beginning of the battle easily. The only true challenge to the Great Lord was Lews Therin and his Asha'man. Moridin grinned slightly at that. There were quite a few of those same Asha'man at the bottom of the hill; killing those they had been taught by and with.

Eyes lighting with animation once again, Moridin walked to where once stood a great tree, now merely a burned stump. His eyes rose to look up at a blood red tower, once purest white, dwarfed only by a lone mountain. There was much work to be done yet, for this world to be suitable for the Great Lord's designs. Moridin walked to what was once the symbol of power for Aes Sedai, leaving the grave of a man killed in battle by a stray spear, ironically wielded by one of his own. The man the world had quaked at his coming. The man they had named the Dragon Reborn.

A/N: What can I say, I like irony.