He hoped he will reach the old gate at time. The sky itself felt as if it was burning, and as if Light itself came down from heaven to kill him. The entire city was shaking, pillars collapsing around him. He was not sure if it was an accident, the work of al'Thor, or if it was her raging over and over.

Rand al'Thor was weaving some strange patterns, sending black waves of shadow throughout the city and making it all crumble like the tower of cards. She was screaming - inside his head. He felt as if she will grab his own mind and tear it out of him.

Inside his head, Rand was screaming. He was sure that he was screaming, that Lews Therin was screaming, but he could not hear either voice in the roar. The foul ocean of the taint was flooding through him, howling with its speed. Tidal waves of vileness crashed over him. Raging gales of filth ripped at him. The only reason he knew that he still held the Power was the taint. Saidin could be shifting, flaring, about to kill him, and he would never know. That putrid flood overwhelmed everything else, and he hung on by his fingernails to keep from being swept away on it. The taint was moving. That was all that counted, now. He had to hold on!

Scrambling to the top of the hill, Osan'gar dropped to the ground on his belly and smiled as he crabbed sideways to shelter behind a tree. From here, with saidin in him, he could see the next crest clearly, and the people on it. Not as many as he had expected. One woman was making a slow circuit around the crest, peering into the trees, but everyone else was still, Narishma sitting with Callandor glowing in his hands and a woman's head on his knee. There were two other women that Osan'gar could see, one kneeling over the other, but they were obscured by a man's back. He did not need to see the man's face to know al'Thor. The key lying on the ground at his side named him. To Osan'gar's eyes, it shone brightly. In his head, it overwhelmed the sun, a thousand suns. What he could do with that! A pity it had to be destroyed along with al'Thor. But still, he could take Callandor after al'Thor was dead. No one else among the Chosen possessed so much as an angreal. Even Moridin would quail before him once he had that crystal sword.

Nae'blis? Osan'gar would be named Nae'blis after he destroyed al'Thor and undid all that he had done here. He found it unbelievable how Shaidar Haran's plan actually worked. Laughing softly, he wove balefire. Who would ever have thought that he would turn out to be the hero of the day?

That was before the large ball of fire sneaked from behind. Elza Penfell, standing on another hill close by, tried to kill him. He cursed and weaved again, opening another gateway. Just as he made it, the raging fire followed him through the gateway, as he fell through it in front of dazed Rand al'Thor.

Good thing Shaidar Haran warned him about her as well. He did not think she will try her chance so soon, but it was enough. That little worm - she dared strike at him, one of the Chosen! He who built the armies of the Great Lord in the very beginning of his conquest. But now, it did not matter.

Nynaeve al'Meara and Cadsuane both stumbled back to the ground, both of them almost burned by the heat. He had closed the gateway as soon as he could, but the heat from the weave still reached everyone on the hill. Everyone had passed out, all the Aes Sedai and Narishma who was standing there, holding Callandor. Everyone, except al'Thor. He still stood there, looking like a statue, sweat barely rolling down his forehead. Stern-faced, he did not even seem to have noticed Osan'gar.

So he chuckled. "There you stand." He had been planning to throw balefire at him from that distance and then Travel to the place Shaidar Haran told him to. But now, at this moment, standing there before him... "Fool. Idiot. You should have joined us there in the very beginning."

Three thousand years. Three. Thousand. Years. He was rotting there, and when he was released was little more than a walking corpse. He had a new body, yes, but he still remembered the pain, the feeling of decay as his own bones and skin were blackened. And the one who brought that upon him was standing here, at his mercy. The thought of torturing him, of making him feel the same pain he had felt...yes, that was sweeter than becoming Nae'blis.

"We are here, Lews Therin." The fool did not even raise his sight. His eyes were like a dead man's. "I have you now. You will see what it felt like, you will know. You will feel. I will make you rot like I did. I will make you burn, I will make you freeze, choke and burn again. For all those millennia, you will pay. Have you nothing to say?"

Rand al'Thor still did not move. He was like a statue. And spiteful as one.

He gritted his teeth. "So be it."

Min almost passed out along with everyone else, less so because of the aggressive heat that almost tore her apart, and more so because of a pile of rocks that almost fell on her. She could feel Rand's own pain. Climbing up the rock, she was about to scream, feeling the foulness of the taint herself, but she bit her tongue when the eyes glimpsed.

Dashiva was there right in front of Rand and everyone else, Nynaeve, Cadsuane and Meris, all collapsed. Dashiva, though, was standing there, looking down at Rand. Looking up she saw the aura around him - he meant to kill Rand.

Her instinct yelled at her to chase him now and she reached for her pockets, but the daggers were not there. Light burn me!

Look Min!

The voices spoke again. At the worst time.

The sword, Min.

What?

Sword, Min, sword!

Jahar was beside Callandor and he was not moving. She sneaked to reach it, hearing Dashiva speaking to Rand. Jahar's grip was fairly easy on Callandor, and she took the Sword That is Not a Sword, as it gleamed with pale blue light. And her eye, in one single second, caught the sight of grey tendrils of Mashadar coming after her. Listening to the voices, she made a few silent steps, and then, ran right at Dashiva. Plunging the blade in his back, she prayed it went right through his heart. He twitched and she heard him trying to reach for breath. She pushed the blade back and forth, not having the strength to pull it out. As he reached for his breath, he managed to push her away and blade went out with her. Both of them fell to ground, and he hissed in pain, touching his side. He reached out for something and barely went back to his feet, but Min picked up the last piece of strength she could and swung Callandor right across the back of his head. The line of blood was all she could bear to look at.

Then, she felt a feeling that was not wholly her own. Rand stumbled as he tried to stand up, barely pulling himself up by holding onto her. She wanted to hug him, kiss him again and again. But as quickly as she held him, another gateway opened, right behind them. He stumbled again, slipping on the ground. Min tried to catch him, but Mashadar then sneaked up on her, coming into contact with the One Power. In a sound she could describe only as screaming, Mashadar and the gateway created an explosion. Min felt as if she was slapped over her entire body and shortly after darkness was all her eyes could see.

Now, the city was gone - all of it. In place where Shadar Logoth once stood, a huge hole was instead, large enough to hold an entire lake of foulness one day. A few pillars and a building stayed around it, ones that Padan Fain used to ran as fast as he could from her. Stumbling on the blocks, hurting himself, in mere seconds he gained scars he will carry for the rest of his life.

She threw him down, then up, then down again. The roof and floor were both made of thickest stone, making his head feel like a cracked nut. He tried to speak, but she just threw him at the body of a nearest Myrddraal.

"Please!" he spoke, grabbing his dagger instinctively. "My lady, please! I didn't know he will come here. I swear, I didn't! I wanted to kill him too!"

She screamed in response, spreading her tendrils of mist around him. He felt breath slowly leave him, then, in her love of cruelty, return, only to start taking it from him again. She was not hungry at the moment - he envied those who met her while she was hungry. They were the luckiest creatures on earth.

He crawled on the ground, losing the use of his legs. He even left his dagger behind, screaming for his life. "No. No, no, you need me! No one will bring them to you! I am the only way you can survive!" He instantly regretted saying that. She grabbed him and tightened her grasp even more.

There were no hands or palps, but it hurt. How much it hurt! "No, my lady, forgive me!" He started coughing. "I did not mean it! I didn't!" Fool, what a fool! How could he even dare say to one of the Powers of Creation that she needed him? She who even threatened the Great Lord all those ages ago...she needed him?

"My lady..." Her grasp tightened again. She let it last longer than before. She will devour him yes...but first it will be worse. "My lady...your greatness, please. No. NO!"

Something else was heard too. The invisible hand dropped him to the ground, his head ringing in pain. Blood went out. In one single glance, in the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the mist retreating and leaving that place. Barely having strength, he saw her heading towards the entrance of what was once Aridhol. She flew and he trembled, fearing the wrath of lady Mashadar even more. Then, she stopped. And laughter echoed through the night.

"Well, well." it said. Glimpsing through a hole in the middle of pillars, Padan Fain perceived a tall Fade standing there. Too tall. The Fade with four fingers. The thing was standing above a ruined corpse. "I thought you would have luck this time around, Aginor." The thing shrugged. "It is not a big waste though. To be quite honest, I never liked you that much and neither did the Great Lord." And he chuckled. Fain shivered at that sound - it was almost as terrible as the presence of the Great Lord and the Lady themselves. He hid behind a broken pillar, retreating while the Lady stood still before the entrance of the city, not continuing the charge.

"What mistake you made, dear? I am no Myrddraal." he uttered. "The Great Lord simply prefers this form. But I, as you know, always had a more specific taste." In the blink of an eye he was changed. The black robes remained, but the pale dead skin was replaced with a light of radiant glory. A face that had the beauty above both human or elven kind, and was neither male nor female. Long white hair fell, and a small black crown appeared above his brow. The most beautiful creature Fain had ever seen - inhuman and more adorned than any king who ever walked on earth. And there were his eyes. Eyes of fire and ash. Most terrible eyes Padan Fain had ever seen. Not even she was immune to fear they brought.

"What do you think?" he said, smiling. "Am I still in shape? You however, seemed to have lost a lot of weight, no?"

She groaned.

"I understand, trust me. How long exactly have you been here? Since the First Turning?"

She groaned again. Sounds alike to hissing and groaning could be heard, if that was a better way to put it. She was giving a thousand sounds and one instead, all simultaneously.

"Oh, goodness." Sauron said, genuinely surprised. "You really have fallen so low. Little more than a beast now, are you not?"

In response, she made a note of deep, horrible sound.

"Ah. The Great Lord always liked your tunes, dear."

She repeated the note again.

"Now that is surprising. We all had our rough times, of course - even the Great Lord. But you...You have almost lost understanding, have you not? There is nothing there except hunger."

She hissed.

"Well, fine then." Maybe thoughts come to you better than words.

She paused all movement or sound.

Marvelous! It is good we can have a conversation in some way.

She finally hissed again, then eased her mind. Black Hand.

He looked at it and smiled. Well, of course, at the moment it is as pale as snow, but we both know what you mean. He raised his hand. I see your daughter stayed in touch with you before she died, no?

Ring-Maker... she thought. Ring-Maker. Lord of the Rings. And yet without a finger. Then she chuckled.

He gnashed his teeth, then moved the lips into a twisted smile. So you have kept a sense of humor at least. It is good to know that. Between you and me, our master has gotten a bit dull over the ages. The rest of us can barely even enjoy ourselves.

Master... she repeated. YOUR master.

He tilted his head. Now, now, now...you know that is incorrect. You have lost weight and patience, my dear, but you are not stupid. I know you are not.

She grew still, not responding.

You know very well who is your master. That incident was just luck on your side and you know that very well. It really was luck or something else. Even the Great Lord could not understand how that could have happened - he was greater than her always. Ever since their beginnings beyond space and time. In that confrontation she was strengthened and he weakened. It happened once and would never repeat again. They both knew that, because, even now, she shuddered at the mention of him. There, there, my dear. Do not be shy. The Great Lord is willing to ignore that event, if you serve him again. Of course, this time faithfully.

As terrified of him as she was, that she would not hear. He. He stays away. He will stay away.

And you think so why?

He is still afraid. Of me.

Sauron laughed. The laughter sent shivers down Fain's spine. Oh my dear, you have kept a great sense of humor!

That was partially true. The Great Lord was not afraid of her anymore. He was, however, wrathful, bent on punishing her for that treachery. For a time - or, rather, all the turnings of the Wheel - they had assumed Padan Fain was her, and that she was taking his form, which is why the Slayer, the Chosen and all other servants had orders to kill him on sight. However, it was not the case and Sauron realized it. The Great Lord needed much convincing to not punish her and instead consider how she could still be useful.

We both know very well you are not as strong as before, dear. You have nothing to stand against him. That was true also. The Great Lord held all the powers of this world and was the ruler of all things. In every art and skill - whether it was crafting, or manipulation of nature or the knowledge and wisdom - he was supreme. And yet, both Sauron and even he had to admit that others among them still held proficiency in various domains others did not. And Ungoliant had such proficiency, one that would serve the purpose of the Shadow. But he is willing to forgive, if you will serve him.

She did not want it. She feared.

Do not worry, my dear. The Great Lord is preparing a feast for you again. He turned his gaze towards the dim moon, hardly seen through the dark clouds. A great feast indeed.

He turned his back and walked into the shadows. "Keep your rat alive." He said in a loud voice, that came for Fain like he was its prey. "That is the only way you can hope to bargain with any of us."

As he left, Fain tried to run again, but instead she grabbed him by the ankle, pulling him closer. "No!"

"Quiet, worm!"

He trembled. She never, ever spoke to him. He could know and understand her mood, her requests, but she never spoke.

"He is right." That voice...it was hushed and broken, but befitting of her power. "I...need you for now." Ensnared in the grey mist, the voice seemed to come from all sides. "So you will live...again, for now. And you will give up chasing him."

"What?!"

"Refuse," the mist took the shape of a dozen horrible eyes. "and you will see there are some things far worse than death."

He screamed, as she continued to torment him. But she did not kill him.

It was Rand al'Thor. It was all Rand al'Thor's fault.