To the Void
Part Two
by Selinthia Avenchesca

The dead must sleep. Not in tombs or dark holes, but in places very similar to resting models throughout the Ages. The Dragon sprawled bonelessly over a large bed, dreaming. It seemed strange to him that he should dream, being as he was in the World of Dreams. It was puzzling, that the dead should be classified as dead. Death meant, in definition, the end of being, but those in the worlds beyond were every bit as much alive as those in earthly incarnation. There was a difference, though. The living could shape and effect the Pattern. The dead could not. But dreams could still reach the dead. The dead could still puzzle over the strangeness of the worlds.

There was a span of cracked ground, baking in the brightest sunlight. People lolled about, deadly wounds marring their bodies, crying out in agony. A woman, red haired and slender, stared at him.

"Destruction becomes Creation," she said, impassive and resigned as she died.

He turned away.

A circle of thrones ringed the world, and in the middle, there stood a throne carved of Dragons. In facing the Dragon Throne, the others shattered, and fell to the dust, and Dragon Throne grew so large, that it collapsed under it's own weight.

He was under that throne when it fell.

There were two young men, but young as they were, they were battle scared and seasoned. The slender, tricksome seeming man stepped forward and laughed in his face.

"So, things didn't turn out quite how they were supposed to, huh?"

"No," he answered. "They did not."

"That's the way the Dice roll," the other said, grinning carelessly.

And the other man, the one with the wide shoulders, tooked three steps forward and unsoldered his axe. The axe was planted in the ground at his feet, and the curly haired man looked up at him with glaring yellow eyes. The eyes of a wolf, those.

"You can't come back home again. You are no longer one of us," the axeman said gravely. He gestured to the axe. "I guard the homestead. You cannot cross this line."

And the slender, impish young man, threw his hand forward. A pair of large dice spun, and landed on the ground, standing on their corners.

"It won't work forever," the grinning young man said, and the dice fell down.

There were no dots.

Black rocks rained down upon him, and he looked to the others for help, but they shocked their heads and said,

"Too little, too late."

The fire covered him, and a triumphant whisper sounded in his ear.

"I have won again, Lews Therin. Forever."

* * *

The feathersoft footsteps of the archer woke him from the disturbing mental pictures. Birgitte was there, staring down at him. Lews Therin scowled in annoyance.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Hello," he replied sarcastically.

"When are you leaving?" she asked, casually, as though it was his intention.

"I am not," he replied.

"We're no longer guarding you, old friend. If you truly wish to embrace the Final Death, that is your choice. But before you do, I must show you something."

Intrigued and suspicious at once, Lews Therin stood, not bothering to smooth his rumbled coat, which was encrusted with layers upon layers of dust, and wrinkled beyond belief. It was the very image of the coat he had died in. The physical reality of that coat had been incinerated, but Lews Therin had brought it's copy with him in death, never bothering to invision something else. He had lost all motivation for everything, sleeping the majority of the time, trying block out awareness completely, simulating the oblivion he craved.

Perhaps, if he went to whatever the woman wanted to show him, he would at last have his chance.

An eyebrow raised in question, the Dragon stood to his feet, gesturing in a mockingly outward motion.

"Lead on, archer."

* * *

The woman was smiling softly at the small boy who sat beside her.

"Mama, can the Dark One break free?"

"Oh no, child. The Dark One was sealed by the Creator at the very beginning of time."

"But Mama, Cris said that the Dark One almost broke free before. He said that if that could almost happen before, then it could really happen."

The mother studied her child intently for a moment and sighed,

"Cris shouldn't be telling such tales. They aren't meant for small ears. But yes, the Dark One did try to break free before. But a man called the Dragon stopped the Dark One from getting out of his prison."

"I've heard of the Dragon," the boy said, "He was a bad man."

The mother shook her head and replied, "He was a human man. He made mistakes, mistakes anyone could make. But his mistakes effected the whole world. He wasn't bad, though."

"He wasn't?" the boy, eyes wide, asked this as though he had never considered it before.

"No," the mother laughed, "And if the Dark One ever tries to break free again, the Dragon will be Reborn, to come and save us all. It is Prophesied."

"Profysed?"

"Prophecised. That means that some people saw into the future, and wrote down what would happen, so we would know it, and be ready for it."

"Oh. How can the Dragon come back?"

"His soul will enter into another body, and live a whole nother life."

"But how will we know him?"

"The Prophecies have written down signs that will show us he is the true Dragon."

"I'm glad," the boy muttered.

"So am I."

* * *

Lews Therin drew back from the viewing portal through which he had witnessed the discussion between the woman and her son. His eyes were almost glazed, shock and near panic rushing through him.

"Why did you show me this?" he demanded harshly.

"So you would know that people still need you. That you cannot afford to simply throw your existence away," Birgitte answered in a tone every bit as harsh as that of the man. She had not wanted to show him that the world viewed the Dragon's memory in hatred, but even finding a being who believed that he would save the world, the views of others did seep through. There was no longer a choice, however. Perhaps harshness would shock him out of his moping.

"Prophecies," he laughed derisively. "They're taken madness and death and transformed it into Prophecy."

"They hope," Birgitte answered in turn, "And they see a glimpse of the truth. Do not deceive yourself. You remember other lives, other battles. You have always been the soul to oppose your enemies stridently. You know that your enemy, more often than not, has been the Dark One and his followers. And if you do not return to the world, perhaps then it shall be destroyed."

"If they consent to depend upon one man, a man who destroyed everyone he loved, then they are fools. I have no more patience with eternal battles. Battles which draw to an eternal stalemate. There is nothing left for me. You say you shall stop guarding me, you say that I will now be left alone to do as I must. Keep your word, and let me die," his eyes glittered with rage and fevered need as demanded.

"I did say that. But think! Would you want the right on an entire world upon your shoulders, to add to the weight that is already there!? Would you be to blame for millions of deaths!? This is your chance, this is how you can redeem yourself!"

"Redeem myself," Lews Therin laughed, a hollow sound. "You try to manipulate me. To play upon my guilt. But I will not used."

Measured footsteps sounded, and both Birgitte and Lews Therin turned warily to face the grim, set face of Artur Hawkwing.