A Memory of Light (Wheel of Time, #14; A Memory of Light, #3)

by Robert Jordan

The Dark One wrapped around the Pattern, unable to take it and destroy it, but able to touch it. Tendrils of darkness, spines, touched the world at points all along its length. The Dark One lay like shadow upon the Pattern. When the Dark One touched the Pattern, time existed for him. And so, while time was nothing to the Dark One, he—or it, as the Dark One had no gender—could only work within its bounds. Like… like a sculptor who had marvelous visions and dreams but was still bound by the reality of the materials he worked with. Rand stared at the Pattern, resisting the Dark One’s attack. He did not move or breathe. Breath wasn’t needed here. People died below. Rand heard their screams. So many fell. I WILL WIN EVENTUALLY, ADVERSARY. WATCH THEM SCREAM. WATCH THEM DIE. THE DEAD ARE MINE. “Lies,” Rand said. NO. I WILL SHOW YOU. The Dark One spun possibility again, gathering up what could be, and thrust Rand into another vision.