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  1. Today
  2. It was summer and a storm was brewing. Outside the air was heavy with moisture; the cloud underbellies deepening in color as people scurried to finish their daily tasks. Streaks of lightning occasionally jumped from cloud to cloud, heightening the need for haste. Shopkeepers had already ducked into their storefronts, not wanting to tempt the weather in order to sell one more item. Children followed along behind their parents, many pointing at the sky and whispering excitedly to another. Inside the Palace, Arissa looked out the window toward the sky. She frowned slightly, pulling her lips into a pretty pout, and swirled the drink in front of her. A storm would make a stroll outside less than pleasant, and she had planned to suggest Enara hold Court in the High Garden today. She could alter the weather if needed, but she admittedly, she wasn’t great at it. Changing the weathers required multiple large weaves of varying complexity, and a certain spontaneity that Arissa despised. She preferred the controlled intricacy of the mind. She heard the rustling of fabric and smiled as she slowly turned, the gray light casting an almost eerie glow on her unclothed frame. Enarra, blonde hair unbound and splayed messily across a pillow smiled at her sleepily. “I could stay in bed all day,” her voice hitching slightly as she stretched two pale arms skyward. “Especially if you would stay with me.” Her frame relaxed back against the nest of silk covered pillows and she brazenly watched Arissa cross the room. Gathering one of the pale pink robes that had been neatly set out for the pair, the Chosen winked, her green eyes flashing in wicked delight. She drew Saidar and almost sighed as the perfection of the One Power flooded through her. “As much as I would love to stay in bed all day, we have Court this afternoon. And,” she added, tying the sash loosely around her waist, “you know we must be careful not to be seen together lest the rest worry that you are playing favorites.” She punctuated her admonishment with a soft Compulsion weave and the spitting image of an adoring smile. “Sometimes I can’t believe the decisions I make,” Enarra said, half to herself, “Sometimes I think I am playing favorites…” the Queen of Andor trailed off, bounding to her feet. Snatching the other robe, she leaned in close to push some glossy dark blonde hair out of Arissa’s face and peck her lovingly on the cheek, “but you just make so many bloody good points, Aleya. Maybe you should be Queen.” Laughing, the blonde pushed her lover left, toward the hidden door connecting their rooms and walked toward her enormous powder room. Arissa dropped the seductive gaze as Enarra disappeared into the other room. “Oh lovely, ignorant Enarra,” she murmured, “I already am.” Stepping into “her” rooms, the Chosen swiftly donned her Lady Aleya attire – it was much too modest for her personal taste, but it was a necessary discomfort – and headed toward the throne room. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “I’m so glad you could join me for tea, Lady Aleya,” though the tone sounded less than welcoming. “It seems you have had the Queen’s ear of late, and well, as we differ on many fronts, I thought it may be best to meet and discuss.” She took a sip of her tea and smiled a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. Arissa tipped the cup up to her mouth but did not drink. When finished, she smiled at the other woman, baring white teeth that gleamed slightly in the sun. She'd already removed the bullish "Aes Sedai" from meddling; this Lady would be even easier to break. Arissa had been manipulating people since the Breaking...before the Breaking if Dar Keran was to be believed. Fool man, she thought bitterly, before returning her attention to the irritating person in front of her. “It’s a pleasure to be here,” the Chosen said, in a tone only mildly more friendly than the host had used. In the current political climate, pleasantries were necessity, but actually being nice would be viewed as suspicious. Though Cairhein was famous for Daes Dae’mar – Arissa scoffed at the name – Andoran politics could be just as vicious. Especially when whispers of a succession crisis had begun to spread through the great Houses. The Queen was young, but had no Heir. Nor had she shown any interest in remarrying after the rather sudden death of her husband nearly two years ago. To the world she seemed content to remain alone. Harlin gave the impression of a tight smile – or grimace, it was difficult to tell – before launching into her pitch for Succession should it come to that. She morphed into almost a different person, as she met “Areya’s” blue eyes, passion in her voice and real emotion in her body language. It was a truly impressive performance. Someone not highly studied in mental inner-workings may have been swayed. But Arissa was aware and Areya was loyal…for now. “Harlin,” she said, interrupting the other woman, “Enarra is still a young woman; she’s only in her mid-20s. Besides, this sounds like treason. You are speaking of taking the crown!” Arissa inwardly cocked a brow as she watched horror and resentment fall over the face of the other woman. The Chosen had little desire to actually sit on the Lion Throne, but her proximity and “friendship” with the Queen placed her in high regard politically, and socially. She was the logical choice for succession if it came down to it, but her loyalty to Enarra would only serve to cement the people’s love for her and drive Harlin mad with competition. Enarra was a popular Queen, a fair and just ruler with a pretty face and a love for her people. Word of Harlin’s lust for power would soon be out; Arissa had made sure of it. But she’d also ensured there were some loud vocal supporters of the Lady as well, just to make it interesting. She took a dainty drink, nearly spitting the disgustingly weak liquid back into her cup. “I suggest you cease this talk and settle back down to drink some tea. It must be almost chilled by now.” The other woman narrowed her eyes, but reclined into the chair slightly. Areya was right. The tea was cold. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Arissa wove a Gateway, stepping once again into the Dreamworld. She readied her usual weave and shield before snapping the shut. Strolling around the suggested meeting place, she let a small smile come to her lips. The pale gray walls shimmered with minuscule reflections of the hearth blazing across the room and a dark plush carpet muted the sound of footfalls. Similarly dark furniture dotted the moderately sized room though there was little else here. Beautiful stonework if austere in decor; it fit Seranha perfectly. There were no hints of where the other Chosen might be, though Arissa surreptitiously checked anyway. Everyone made mistakes at some point. Like myself in trusting Kharin with Wendalle after the Breaking. She shredded his mind beyond repair and cackled as I had to scrape together the information we needed. Locking that frustrating memory away, Arissa leaned against the arm of the chair closest to the fire. It gave off the same intensity of light, but the flames were mere reflections of true world. No heat attempted to ward off the ever present chill of tel'aran'rhiod. Interestingly, the hearth never flickered to be fully out; Seranha must keep the fire stoked constantly. There might be something to that....the auburn-haired beauty filed it away for possible future use. The other Chosen was probably the person most akin to a friend, but that didn't mean she wasn't also a threat Arissa may need to neutralize in the future. Humming quietly to herself, Arissa waited patiently. Were she and Seranha different people, she would have thought Seranha was making her wait on purpose. However, Seranha was more blunt than passive and Arissa was extremely patient. She had always enjoyed playing the long game; often as much or more as the eventual outcome. She pondered her next move with the Andoran nobility as the fire made almost natural crackling and popping sounds in the empty room. It wasn't long before Seranha appeared, her dark hair in a solitary braid hanging at her back and an empty weapon belt slung across her hips. "Thanks for coming," the shorter woman said, crossing the room to sit in the ebony chair across from where Arissa stood. "I have some news you may be interested in, and a proposition for you." "Do tell," the redhead purred, a goblet of chilled white wine appearing in her hand. She took a deep draw from the liquid and when she met Seranha's eyes, Arissa's emerald eyes twinkled with mischief and malice. "I enjoy a good proposal."
  3. Yesterday
  4. Hello! My name is Gracia (Gra-thee-ya). I was also looking for news about the upcoming TV show and decided to join the forum 🙂 Started reading WoT around 3 years ago but only recently managed to start A Memory of Light... Taking my time as I don't want it to end I guess 😕 Looking forward to getting to know the community!
  5. L_R_ / __ / TH_ / R_N__S
  6. .. The Price of Betrayal .. ►▼◄ Her body plastered to the wall by invisible flows of air, she knew she was dying a slow and painful death. There was no sound coming from her, a weave of air gagging her, but the woman’s pretty features twisted with horrendous pain and her whole body would have jerked with spasms had she not been so pinned to the wall, as extremely delicate weaves of fire every so slowly sliced through her abdomen and her side. ● Raphael did not share Divara’s great pleasure in inflicting pain on others, but he did what needed doing and it was necessary to make an example of this traitor to their cause. For she had betrayed them, had attempted to reveal a fellow Friend of the Dark and a long-planned scheme to disrupt activities in the region to the local town authorities. Very unwise. Before that she had spread discontent within her Friends of the Dark-circle, accusing her leaders - and even the Chosen! - of withholding the truth and raving about there being no hope now that the Forces of Light were marching. Though many took her for a fool, there were also some - especially those new to their oaths - who listened. Finally she had renounced her Oath to the Great Lord. Very unwise indeed. Personally, Raphael thought the dark-haired, slender built woman had gone completely insane. Whatever the case, she was now paying the price of betrayal. She could see his face and his intense gaze as he came very close to her. His words were spoken softly and in her momentous pain she heard. “Lady, this is the price you pay for disobedience.” Soft words. “You betrayed our cause. You betrayed our Great Lord.” ● He felt her vital organs being crushed by his Saidin-wrought fire and understood that she had only moments left before death. And so he said, “The penalty is death. Pray that the Great Lord will give you eternal sleep, after you betrayed his word and your sacred Oath. Perhaps instead you will have eternal pain.” His grin widened wickedly. In that final moment of torturous pain, Raphael slackened the weaves of air holding her bound a little bit - enough so that he would see her body break. And with a widening of her eyes, she gave a final jerk, a final soundless cry and then her body went limp, all light leaving her eyes forever. The Chosen let go of all the weaves of air and she fell like an empty sack to the ground. He only gave her a quick glance, then turned to the middle-aged man standing off to the side with impassionate eyes. “Take her body to the circle and display it well.” The Friend of the Dark nodded. “Let everyone know what was done to her and that this is the price they will pay if they betray our cause or break their Oath.” “Yes, Great Master.” The man spoke deferentially and did not meet Raphael’s eyes. “It shall be done”, the man said. Raphael nodded satisfied, then watched as the Illianer Friend of the Dark lifted the dead woman up onto his shoulder and carried what was left of her corpse out of the room. On the floor remained small parts of her in a widening pool of blood. ● Seated in his high-backed chair in his chamber in the Great Hall of the Council, Lord Serafehl shuffled through the bunch of papers on his desk, his mind elsewhere. Outside twilight was descending on the Capital City of Illian, day slowly turning to night. Getting up from his chair, the Lord walked across the room and out onto the balcony. He stared out at the Square of Tammaz as he so often did in the evenings, thinking about strategy and what move to make next. Raphael’s thoughts went back to the evening before when he - or rather Lord Serafehl - had been challenged in the Council. Lord Ardhen, together with his two accomplices, had accused Lord Serafehl of threatening councillors and of incompetence with regards to a financial transaction-deal which the council had previously approved but which had gone awry. Raphael - in the guise of Lord Serafehl - had barely been able to contain his anger and has used his strong influence in the council to carry a motion which criticized Lord Ardhen for baseless accusations and made him apologize. Lord Ardhen had stormed out of the council chamber afterwards, staring daggers at Lord Serafehl as he passed. Raphael, for his part, had decided to accelerate his plan for the Illianer Lord’s unfortunate demise. You should be more careful going for a swim with these dangerous ocean currents, my Lord Ardhen. The Chosen thought with wicked amusement. One day it will be the death of you. His evil laughter remained, wisps of shadows in the air, as he walked inside his chamber again, new plans forming in his head. ● Ebou Dar. Raphael stepped out of the gateway and it snapped shut behind him. He was in a small palace in the Altaran Capital, in a private chamber that stood next to the reception hall. The walls were decorated with paintings of all sorts and in all the corners were luxurious vases on ornate pedestals. Lord Elahron, first councillor to the Queen of Altara, enjoyed affluence. Vinadel has not changed since his re-awakening in this time and Age, thought the Chosen with some amusement as he studied the paintings with some interest. He knew that a chime would have alerted the other Chosen to his presence and that Vinadel would join him shortly. Walking across to a window which showed the Royal Palace in the distance, Raphael stared out at the afternoon sun which lit up the Altaran Capital. It was a beautiful city, with its pale white buildings and plenty of canals. Transportation was easy on the passenger canal boats as well as on the broad streets and bridges. Large buildings and palaces were scattered throughout the city, the palaces richly decorated with tall spires or domes in the shapes of turnips or pears, emblazoned with bands of crimson, blue, and gold. The city was surrounded by a very thick white wall, which had three main gates - the Moldaine Gate, the Three Towers Gate, and the Dal Eira Gate - as well as several minor ones. Throughout the city, paved squares were very common, often containing a fountain bubbling water, a large statue, or both. Out of these squares, the Mol Hara square was by far the largest. At its center stood a statue of a woman with one arm raised as to point toward the sea. One entire side of the Mol Hara square was dominated by the gleaming white Tarasin Palace, home of the current ruler of Altara. Ah, but the real power is here. Vinadel was not the most accomplished of the Chosen in Raphael’s view, neither a great general nor a master manipulator, but he did have a way with words and ideas, having been a renowned Philosopher before the Breaking, and had managed to move himself into the position of chief advisor to the Queen, influencing things nicely here in his base of power. He and Raphael saw many things in the same light and had had a loose alliance since escaping the Dreamless Sleep. They did not trust one another, of course, but they had an understanding of sorts which benefited them both at present. ● The door at the other side of the room opened and Raphael turned around. Lord Elahron entered, closing the door behind him. He wore an ornate grey coat with frills at the neck and cuffs and his boots also had frills. It was almost a mirror image of Raphael’s black attire. A tall, slender, scholarly man in his late thirties, dark haired with a short beard and brown eyes, the Lord nodded to Raphael and a small smile came upon his lips. “Lord Serafehl”, he said in a pleasant voice. “How good of you to visit me.” Raphael returned the small smile. “Lord Elahron, I am pleased to be back.” Raphael was not surprised when Vinadel made a weave which ensured their privacy from prying ears - he always did this for their meetings, something Raphael thought prudent - and then bade him sit in one of the two chairs near the window. Seating himself, Raphael considered how much or how little he could tell Vinadel. With all that was going on he expected Vinadel would be just as careful. “So”, Vinadel began tentatively. “How are things going in Illian?” Raphael smiled thinly. “Oh, very well. A few obstacles, as can be expected, but on the whole things are going smoothly. And here in Altara?” “Very well”, Vinadel replied. “The Queen is.. stubborn, but she listens to good advice. She affords trust to her advisors.” Raphael nodded. “That is good.” His eyes intensified. “And what of Vanahl’s commands?” Vinadel’s brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Ah yes. He was rather.. displeased by the whole boy Dragon affair, wasn’t he?” A small grin came upon his lips. ● Raphael grinned back. “Indeed. Our Nae'blis was not happy at all.” A small pause. “Any idea who was behind that whole thing?” He said it lightly, wondering what Vinadel knew and what he would share. “Oh, it was not me”, Vinadel replied with a small chuckle. “In case you wondered. I have no idea, but it was rather unwise, I think.” “Yes”, Raphael said, his mouth twisting slightly. “Some of our.. associates have been.. premature before.” He chuckled, knowing the double-meaning would not escape the other man. “Indeed”, Vinadel replied with similar amusement. “Have you spoken to Vanahl since the meeting?” “Yes, I have”, Raphael answered. His lips tightened momentarily. It had been an unpleasant meeting where Vanahl had accused him of holding things back - which he had, of course been doing - and Raphael accusing Vanahl of losing control of the group of Chosen. They had parted in anger. “He was not overly pleased by what I had to tell him.” Meeting the other man’s eyes, he added, “And you?” “Yes, he came to see me some days ago.” Vinadel replied, his eyes narrowing once again. “Not a very pleasant man. Never was.” Raphael nodded in agreement. “He feels things are falling apart, but it is more the question of him losing control, I think. Our plans are going ahead, the Shadow is slowly spreading. The Great Lord will be pleased.” “I agree”, Vinadel said. “I don’t know what some of the others are up to, but down here South things are going according to plan.” ● When he returned to his chamber in Illian a little later, the silver line of the gateway disappearing behind him, Raphael went over in his mind what his fellow Chosen had said. He had watched the other man carefully during their conversation, trying to pick up on body language and signals which spoke of intent and emotion, but had perceived little of use. Perhaps Vinadel had spoken truth, perhaps deception. It would have to do for now. The man could at least be relied on, as far as any of the other Chosen could be relied on in the great Game of Power. ● The Council of Twelve were horrified when they were informed the following morning that Lord Ardhen had been found dead in the sea outside the Capital. It was ruled an accidental drowning in strong ocean currents, a probable heart attack when the councillor had gone for his regular evening swim. Lord Serafehl had been most gracious in his kind words of the late Lord, saying that despite their differences Lord Ardhen had been an honourable man who had served Illian with dignity and strength for many years. A motion had subsequently been passed, honouring the dead Lord, and only when the meeting was over and he was alone again in his private chamber, had his somber mask of melancholy broken to be replaced by gleeful jubilation. There was an empty seat on the Council now but with his influence and power Lord Serafehl knew he would be able to get the right man selected. Oh we shall miss your valuable council, my Lord Ardhen. He grinned wickedly. We shall miss it immeasurably. ● The dying rasp of the Myrddraal (they always took a long time to die, damn them!) made the man’s almost black eyes harden even further, if that were possible. Disobedience of the Chosen was almost unheard of but this servant had questioned his orders and he would not stand for it. What business is it of yours, he whispered in his mind to the almost dead creature, how I decide to carry out the Great Lord’s commands ? You are a Servant of the Shadow, of the Great Lord, of me, and you live to obey! Disgust shone in his eyes as he stared at the dying body of the Fade. He tightened his fists and tried to control the anger within. “The penalty for disobedience is death.” His words were hard as stone. “May the Great Lord’s wrath be as harsh.” Turning to face the other Eyeless Ones, three tall figures with cloaks that never moved, he said softly but dangerously, “Anyone else want to question my orders ?” There was no emotion coming from the remaining Myrddraal but from their stance it was almost possible to detect some unease. But also some displeasure. The one standing nearest to the Chosen bowed carefully and rasped “No Great Master. We obey. “Good!” The Chosen said, anger in his voice. “Any more betrayals and you will all die painfully. More painfully than this one.” He pointed at the dead Fade. “Now take the Trollocs north”, he commanded. “There is a change of plan. Be ready for new orders.” Gerehl looked them each in the eyeless face, his stare boring into them, before he turned and entered the gateway. The lights of Tanchico could be seen in the far distance as his gateway snapped shut. ● Stepping out of the gateway in quite another place, the Chosen walked up to a tall mirror that stood beside a huge painting depicting a battle-scene. Looking at his reflection, he grinned at what he saw. A brown-haired man in his late twenties with almost black eyes and high cheekbones, a lean body and a dark green cloak with frills. Chuckling to himself, the image in the mirror slowly changed as the weave known as the Mask of Mirrors in the Age of Legends gradually changed his features from those of Gerehl back to Raphael’s. These were interesting times indeed, thought Lord Serafehl of Illian with dark elation and great satisfaction as he returned to his work desk to go through some more council papers. The chaos is spreading. The Great Lord will be pleased. His grin widened. Gerehl.. perhaps less so. Raphael laughed inside. Oh, it was good to be alive! ▀▄
  7. We are just 3 months before filming, and I'd like to know the number of the episodes of the first season: is it 6, is it 10, or is it 13?
  8. Hello Dragonmount! There are rumours, mainly from Sanderson, that there will be in the TV series. Any idea, what could be these? Any wild guess?
  9. Last week
  10. Actually a really interesting theory, but Lan was suffering the effects of losing his Aes Sedai. The fact he was suffering from that means it wasn't her simply releasing it. His new Aes Sedai was bedding him and stuff to try and keep him alive. I feel RJ made a mistake with Moraine having the bond transfer. She told Lan about it in book 2, it would of made more sense for her to do it after going through the doorway and entering Rhudiean.
  11. Did Moraine intentionally fake her death? ie, the bond didn’t break, Moraine passed the bond before she launched herself at Lanfear. Lan was unconscious so he wouldn’t have noticed. And no one else would have either. She may have known she had to convince Rand not to come after her and her apparent death was the easiest way to accomplish it. Moraine may have also know Nynaeve needed Lan so she could have the wherewithal to help Rand.
  12. Is RJ/BS saying that a man can heal himself if he is mentally ill?
  13. Actually when Reading of Rand shielded I learned something new that changes things vastly. When Women link, the person leading actually loses the total she can draw. Siuan was using women linked, so she only had a fraction of what the ten women could channel independently. That fraction may have been large (9/10) or small (3/10) but it is probably somewhere in between. But when 6 women shield a man, they don’t link. All 6 independently shield the man, that’s why there are 6 points and if a woman leaves, she ties off her own weave (at one point Rand had three knots holding his shield). None of this answers the multiplier effect of the saangreal. I agree Nynaeve may have been wrong, but how far off can she be? Also this was before she reached her own max. Say Nynaeve attained her max some point before fighting Moghedien.
  14. You can carry water in a metal bucket, or a plastic bucket, or a glass vase, or a ceramic jar. You could scoop it up with a wooden spoon, or a glass bowl, or even a hat. Just as there are a lot of ways to do the same thing in mundane tasks, there are a lot of ways to do the same thing with the Power.
  15. Remember that there's also a fountain in the city that presumably gets water from the lake.
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