When the man awoke from his mad flight, he found himself in a valley, scorned with the marks of the Great Lord's Freedom. The sun was just rising over the hilltops. It felt like the Northlands; the air was cooler here. Another fact: he wasn't alone. He felt someone watching him, heard a slightly audible step. He turned quickly to face this new possible threat, saidin ready to crush whoever and whatever it was. The woman was as surprised as he was and the ... person with her showed no reaction. Its face was concealed with a black cloak. Only the hands showed, pale as new snow. The woman, on the other hand, was beautiful. She had delicate features, her skin bronze and without a blemish. He hair was dark brown and hung neatly in a thick braid. She was short, only to his chest. But those golden eyes made up for the height with a glare.

"So you're finally awake? We've been waiting."

"Yes." He eyed her warily. "And where am I exactly? If I may ask, Mistress."

"This is the Field of Broken Blades." She spoke in calm, crisp sentences. "The place where the Light of the world was broken." The other just stood there. He had the feeling of hidden eyes watching him through the cowl of the cloak.

"Yes. I remember my history books." He lounged deliberately, showing his comfort around them. The woman sputtered with anger.

"Is that all it is to you? History in a book? I remember…" The touch of the other figure stopped her with a touch of her hand.

WE CAME HERE TO GREET YOU, DRAGON RECYCLED. WE WILL GUIDE YOU TO THE SWORD THAT'S NOT A SWORD AND TO THE PLACE WHERE THE CRATE'TOR AND THE COMPANIONS OF RANDLE THORN ARE SEALED. THE SEALS ARE WEAKENING. YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN SEAL THEM AGAIN, OR RELEASE THEM.

The feminine voice went straight into his brain like a hypodermic needle.

"Who are you two? Are you a bunch of Lightfriends? I'm no bloody Dragon Recycled!"

"Watch your mouth." The woman replied. "My name is Perrine, daughter of Nynaeve, Lady of the Lakes and Perrin Goldeneyes, a Wasteland child born of their lust and yearning for their respectable mates."

The other simply pushed back her? cloak and showed her face. It was the eyeless face of a Fain.

YES. I AM A FAIN. I AM THE ONLY FAIN LEFT NOW. YOU MAY CALL ME FAIN. PLEASE TAKE YOUR HAND AWAY FROM YOUR WEAPON. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR OF ME. I AM HERE TO HELP.

He only realized that he had spoken his words aloud and had his hand on his dagger. He put his hand to his side.

"Why do you say that I am the Dragon Recycled?" He had heard about Fains before; they could lie like a rug and had a strange fixation for daggers with a large red ruby on them. He could almost believe that the Fain was telling the truth, certainly they were as legendary in his home of Rafo as the Wastelands themselves.

I HAVE A GIFT FOR SEEING THE FUTURE. YOU ARE THE ONE. HAVE YOU EVER NOTICED THAT ALL THE WOMEN AROUND YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL? THAT IS A SIGN OF THE DRAGON RECYCLED. AND THERE ARE OTHER SIGNS TOO.

She took his hand and pulled up the right arm's sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a black dragon curled around his bicep. Perrine gasped as she saw it. Evidently, she had not believed as much as Fain had.

"I always knew that this Cracker Jack tattoo would get me in trouble one day." He muttered. Suddenly, his nerves tingled with the feel of the One Power, the weaves of a search net. So, he had been finally discovered. But a search net the size this had to be was beyond Celeste's abilities, even with the rare angreal and s'angreal that existed in the world. The tools themselves did noting but boost the user's self-esteem that he or she could do anything. Celeste had never believed that; that was why she was so weak, but the strong…They knew as he knew, the truth of the manner. But this weave … had to be Celeste's superior, who ever that was. And he or she was strong.

"Very well. I will accompany you to obtain The Sword That Isn't A Sword. But for now, I am not the Dragon Recycled." He firmly told them. "Until I have some proof beside visions of the future."

The Fain nodded in understanding. Perrine just scowled.

"So where is this Sword?" He had to leave soon; the weaves were starting to center on him.

"The Sword is in a cave by the Thousand and Eleven Lakes. Fain can take us there instantly."

He frowned. "The Thousand and One Lakes? Where is that? I am not familiar with northern geography, I'm afraid." He did not ask about how the Fain was going to take them there; he had a sinking feeling that he knew.

Perrine gave him a loud snort. "You definitely are ignorated of the world. Long ago, they were called the Thousand Lakes, but then someone counted them and found there is actually thousand and eleven lakes."

COME. WE ARE WASTING TIME. THEY ARE GETTING NEARER.

The Fain seemed to be looking southward, her forehead wrinkled in worry.

GATHER NEAR ME.

They stood beside her as the Fain's cloak seemed to swirl into darkness beyond shadow around her. Suddenly, the trio disappeared from the now-sunlit valley.


She stepped out of the gateway and surveyed the valley with a calm eye. There was no trace of the man's whereabouts, only bent grass in the morning's dew to say that anyone had been here. And tracks of two other people. The boy had found companions, but for what goal? The woman paused; weighing the consequences. No; she would wait and see. If he was the one, then he would make the right decision. She prayed to the last remaining shards of Light that he would. Sighing, she made a gateway to go home. There were other threads to tend to, some to weave and others to cut. The work of the Light was never done.


When they reappeared into the world, they were in a cave with crystalline blue icicles on the walls and ceiling. It glowed with unseen light. A wonder of another Age? He thought to himself, or a wonder of nature? It did not matter to him at all. It was still beautiful and a thing to be admired.

Perrine led the group down into the depths of the earth. She claimed that her Mother had told her the way. It was insane to actually speak about your parents being not only one great warrior of the Last Battle, but two, and then the two most annoying of the Light's soldiers… With Perrine's temperament and her golden eyes, however, he did not question her claim to them as parents. That last battle between the Light and the Shadow had been so many years ago that her being a child of them was impossible, but maybe not. Channeling did slow down aging. If she was truly Nynaeve's daughter, then she would be quite strong in the Power.

Slowly, they snaked there way down into the earth. The air was actually starting to feel warmer and the air thinner, it seemed to him. None of the women said anything during the time in the cave. The Fain just walked on, face without any emotion, as Perrine kept a nervous watch as she guided them downwards.

The walls then opened up into a large chamber. A woman sat on a throne-like chair and a man sat on the floor at her feet, his eyes looking at the doorway into the chamber, as if he was scrutinizing everyone who entered like a local corner store when you had stolen something when you were nine, and the man still held it against after Crate'tor-knows, how-many years. It was that kind of look. Both were frozen as living ice statues. They had probably been here in this place for so long that the cold in their bones had finally taken over them. Perrine eyed them both with a look of reverence and more than a little fear. The Fain stood as she/it always had. It just stood there.

The woman's eyes were closed and a calmness that went beyond the crystalline ice seemed to project from her smooth, ageless face. She wore clothing that was so outlandish that she could not have lived in this Age and she wore a single light blue stone that hung on her brow. The man seemed to be carved from the very ice and rock of this cave. His clothing too was peculiar, yet there was a feeling of kingliness that resided within, a hint of glory yet to be revealed. Strangely, sadness washed over him, as if he knew these people, that they were his friends. He shook his head, but the feeling didn't want to wash away.And there sat across the woman's lap was the object that they had sought: The Sword That Isn't A Sword.

"That isn't a sword!" He exclaimed.

Perrine looked at him as is he had sprouted wings. "Of course not! It's The Sword That Isn't A Sword!" She emphasized the capital of the relic's title.

The Fain added a cautious word. IT IS CERTAINLY…UNUSUAL.

It was a large axe, about half his height and richly decorated with golden and red enameled Dragons coiled around the fine weapon. He could tell from this distance that the blade was sharp too, probably Aes Sedai work from the Last Battle, although he couldn't see Randle Thorn wielding this murderous weapon. If that was so then this man and woman was…

"Moira and Allen." Perrine spoke softly.

The hairs on his neck rose as he heard those names spoke in this strange place. According to legend, Moira and Allen had been Aes Sedai and Warder, bound together to battle the Great Lord of Darkness forever. But Nynaeve, the Lady of the Lakes, had tried to separate them. She seduced Allen, but Allen remained faithful to his beloved Moira, who he discovered was his true lost love. Reunited at last as lovers, they had traveled to the Wastelands and supposedly the Wheel evaporated them with pure One Power where they stood, so they could be reborn again and again together. It was one of those incredible stories that you grew out of as soon as you realized that there was no Santa Claws, Fester Bunny and A'dam Fairy. But this was true. This was real life.

He was reluctant to approach the dead heroine and hero, but the women both had no-nonsense looks on their faces. With an inner cringe, he slowly pried the axe from Moira's lap. The sound of fabric disintegrating and ice breaking sounded loudly in the chamber. He half-expected the heroes to wake, but their bodies sat silently as they had before. Waiting for the Dragon Recycled to come. Waiting for him.

For now he was sure that he was the one. He had always been special; lucky in life and strong in the Power. He had tattoos from childhood of Dragons that had never come off, no matter how hard he scrubbed with soap and hot water. And all the women around him did seem to be all breath-taking beautiful. That was the definite sign of being the Dragon Recycled. It was him, no doubt about it.

Turning with the axe in his hands towards the ladies to leave, he saw a large shadow spread across the walls leading to the pathway they had taken down. He quickly signaled with his hands for them to come and stand by him. Puzzled, they agreed, walking much slower than desired.

"I saw a shadow on the wall. A large shadow." He questioned Perrine softly, his eyes not moving from the entrance to the chamber. "Is there anything here that might try to stop us from leaving?"

"No." She whispered back. "Nothing I know of, except…"

"What?"

She didn't need to answer. A large creature walked in. It had the lower half of a centipede with thousands of tiny legs, the top half of only something that looked vaguely human. Its skin oozed green puss from thousands of unhealed gashes, the fingers were misshapen. The face was sunken in, as were her breasts. The lips were slightly full and a few tufts of golden hair sat on its head. Perrine gasped, even the Fain looked shocked. He was as well. He did not think that he had ever seen anything that ugly before.

"There's someone here, isn't there?" Its head turned around, searching. It had a strangely pleasant voice of a woman. It also was a voice that was used to be giving commands and being obeyed.

He obeyed.

"I am here, with my companions." Perrine tugged at his sleeve, but he couldn't stop. "And you are?"

"A man?" The head turned his direction; it was then he noticed that it was blind. He refused to think of this creature as a woman. It was unimaginable. "I once loved a man. And look what he gave me." The voice now held too many tears to ever be shed.

He chose his words carefully.

"My companions and I wish to leave this cavern now. Will you guide us to the entrance to the outside?"

The head leaned side-wise, seeming to examine his words. Finally it seemed to come to a decision.

"No. I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave. Rand will come back here. He will come looking for the sword. I want to make Rand pay for what he did to me."

"Um…Why do you want to make Rand pay?" Maybe if he distracted her enough to let the women escape…

Fain's voice roared in his brain, interrupting all other thoughts in his head.

I CAN MAKE A WAY FOR US TO LEAVE THIS PLACE. I JUST NEED TIME.

He nodded slightly and the Fain turned to the shadow of the throne, doing whatever it was she did in order to travel through shadow like she did.

"I loved him. I'm sure he loved me too." The voice was wistful. "When he turned to the Shadow, was turned to the Shadow, I was caught too. Look what the Dark One did to me to make Rand turn to the Shadow…" The voice turned to a sob.

Perrine tugged on his arm. The Fain's shadow gateway was ready. He felt sorry for the creature, so bitter and twisted by the past. He felt guilty too for some reason. Maybe it was all his ex-girlfriends sneaking up on him. He turned to leave.

"Wait! Don't leave me! Please? Oh, Rand, don't leave me! Rand!"

Its cries seemed to dig into his spine. He was spellbound; he couldn't move. Her tears and desperate shouts seemed to have frozen him. Perrine and Fain each took one of his arms and lead him to and through the shadow gate. It seemed to him as he was walked through the gateway that a voice in his soul screamed back at her a single word. Elayne.