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To
the
Void 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.
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