Fires of Heaven

And it came to pass in those days, as it had come before and would come again, that the Dark lay heavy on the land and weighed down the hearts of men, and the green things failed, and hope died. And men cried out to the Creator, saying, O Light of the Heavens, Light of the World, let the Promised One be born of the mountain, according to the prophecies, as he was in ages past and will be in ages to come. Let the Prince of the Morning sing to the land that green things will grow and the valleys five forth lambs. Let the arm of the Lord of the Dawn shelter us from the Dark, and the great sword of justice defend us. Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.
-from Charal Drianaan te Calamon,
The Cycle of the Dragon.
Author unknown, the Fourth Age.

He came like the wind, like the wind touched everything, and like the wind was gone.
-from The Dragon Reborn.
By Loial, son of Arent son of Halan,
the Fourth age.

He just had not had the leisure to have a real look at much of the world. That will be new, he thought. Traveling without being chased, or having to rule here of there. Traveling where he could just sleep in a barn in exchange for splitting someone’s firewood. He thought about that, and found himself laughing, riding on south and smoking his impossible pipe. As he did so, a wind rose up around him, around the man who had been called lord, Dragon Reborn, king, killer, lover and friend.
The wind rose high and free, to soar in an open sky with no clouds, it passed over a broken landscape with corpses not yet buried. A landscape covered, at the same time, with celebrations. It tickled the branches of trees that had finally begun to put forth buds.
The wind blew southward, through knotted forests, over shimmering plains and towards lands unexplored. This wind, it was not the ending. There are no endings, and never will be endings, to the turning of the Wheel of Time.
But it was an ending.

As evening settled onto the land, Tam looked up across what had once been the most feared place of all. Shayol Ghul. The last flickers of light showed plants growing here, flowers blooming, grass growing up around fallen weapons over corpses.
Is this your gift to us, son? He wondered. A final one?
Tam lit his torch from the small, flickering flame that crackled in the pit nearby. He went forward, passing lines of those who stood in the night. They had not told many of Rand’s funeral rites. All would have wanted to come. Perhaps all deserved to come. The Aes Sedai were planning an elaborate memorial for Egwene; Tam preferred a quiet affair for his son.
Rand could finally rest.
He walked past people standing with heads bowed. None carried a light save Tam. The others waited in the dark, a small crowd of perhaps two hundred encircling the bier. Tam’s torch flickered orange off solemn faces.
In the evening, even with his light, it was hard to tell Aiel from Aes Sedai, Two Rivers man from Tairen king. All were shapes in the night, saluting the body of the Dragon Reborn.
Tam went up to the bier, besides Thom and Moiraine, who were holding hands, faces solemn. Moiraine reached over and gently squeezed Tam’s arm. Tam looked at the corpse, gazing down into his son’s face by the fire’s light. He did not wipe the tears from his eyes.
You did well. My boy…You did so well.
He lit the pyre with a reverent hand.

Do it,” Gabrelle said. “Do it, Sealbreaker.”
Logain snapped the once unbreakable seals, one by one, and dropped the pieces to the ground.

So it was that Rand used the Dark One’s own essence, channelled in its full strength. He held the Dark One tightly, like a dove in the grip of a hawk.
And light exploded from him.

I’ve come to give you your gift back, Mordeth,” Cauthon whispered. “I consider out debt paid in full.”
Cauthon rammed the dagger right between the ribs, into Shaisam’s heart. Tied to this pitiful mortal form, Mordeth screamed. Padan Fain howled, and felt his flash melting from his bones. The mist trembled, began to swirl and shake.
Together they died.

He checked one more time down the tunnel-though he could not see Moiraine, it comforted him to look. Then he returned to his perch and took out a sheet of paper and his pen. And-to the thunder, the yells, the explosions, and the howl of the wind-he began to compose.

Thom Merrilin sat on a large, soot-blackened boulder, smoking his pine, watching the world end.
He knew a thing or two about finding the best vantage to watch a performance. He judged this to be the finest seat in the world. His boulder was just next to the entrance into the Pit of Doom, close enough that if he leaned back and squinted, he could peer in and catch some of the lights and shadows playing inside.
He glanced in. Nothing had changed.

“You may see in yourself someone who lets himself go too far, but that’s not the man I see. If anything, Perrin, I’ve seen in you someone who has learned to hold himself back. I’ve watched you hold a teacup with extreme delicacy, as if you feared breaking it with your strength. I’ve seen you clasp hands with a man, holding his hand in yours with such care, never squeezing too hard. I’ve watch you move with deliberate reserve, so that you don’t shove anyone or knock anything over.
“Those were good lessons for you to learn, son. You needed control. But in you, I’ve seen a boy grow into a man who doesn’t know how to let those barriers go. I see a man who’s frightened of what happens when he gets a little out of control. I realize you do because you’re afraid of hurting people. But Perrin… it’s time to stop holding back.