By Robert Jordan
The Wheel of Time turns and a long time come and move, leaving thoughts that turn into legend. Legend fades to fantasy, or even delusion is lengthy forgotten while the Age that gave it beginning returns back. within the 3rd Age, an Age of Prophecy, the area and Time themselves cling within the stability. What was once, what is going to be, and what's, might but fall below the Shadow.
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Ladies went, too, shouldering what guns they can locate and marching part via facet with their males. nobody made that trip who didn't recognize they'd by no means go back. however it used to be their land. It were their fathers’, and it'd be their children’s, and so they went to pay the cost of it. now not a step of flooring was once given up till it was once soaked in blood, yet on the final the military of Manetheren was once pushed again, again to the following, to this position you presently name Emond’s box. And the following 116 Tellings of the Wheel the Trolloc hordes surrounded them. ” Her voice held the sound of chilly tears. “Trolloc useless and the corpses of human renegades piled up in mounds, yet continually extra scrambled over these charnel tons in waves of demise that had no finish. There might be yet one end. No human being who had stood underneath the banner of the purple Eagle at that day’s dawning nonetheless lived while evening fell. The sword that may no longer be damaged was once shattered. “In the Mountains of Mist, on my own within the emptied urban of Manetheren, Eldrene felt Aemon die, and her center died with him. And the place her middle were used to be left just a thirst for vengeance, vengeance for her love, vengeance for her humans and her land. pushed through grief she reached out to the genuine resource, and hurled the single strength on the Trolloc military. And there the Dreadlords died at any place they stood, even if of their mystery councils or exhorting their infantrymen. within the passing of a breath the Dreadlords and the generals of the darkish One’s host burst into flame. fireplace fed on their our bodies, and terror ate up their just-victorious military. “Now they ran like beasts ahead of a wildfire within the woodland, without suggestion for whatever yet get away. North and south they fled. hundreds of thousands drowned trying to go the Tarendrelle with no assistance from the Dreadlords, and on the Manetherendrelle they tore down the bridges of their fright at what should be following them. the place they discovered humans, they slew and burned, yet to escape was once the necessity that gripped them. until eventually, eventually, nobody of them remained within the lands of Manetheren. They have been dispersed like dirt ahead of the whirlwind. the ultimate vengeance got here extra slowly, however it got here, after they have been hunted down by way of different peoples, by means of different armies in different lands. None used to be left alive of these who did homicide at Aemon’s box. “But the cost used to be excessive for Manetheren. Eldrene had interested in herself extra of the single strength than any human might ever wish to wield unaided. because the enemy generals died, so did she die, and the fires that ate up her ate up the empty urban of Manetheren, even the stones of it, right down to the residing rock of the mountains. but the folk have been stored. ” “Nothing used to be left in their farms, their villages, or their nice urban. a few might say there has been not anything left for them, not anything yet to escape to different lands, the place they can commence anew. they didn't say so. they'd paid this sort of rate in blood and desire for his or her land as had by no means been paid ahead of, and now they have been guaranteed to that soil via ties more desirable than metal. different wars might wrack them in future years, till finally their nook of the realm was once forgotten and finally that they had forgotten wars and the methods of struggle.