Rand was dying. His lifeblood flowed from him, and beyond that, the amount of the Powers he held would soon burn him away. He held the Dark One in his hand. He began to squeeze, then stopped. He knew all secrets. He could see what the Dark One had done. And Light, Rand understood. Much of what the Dark One had shown him was lies. But the vision Rand himself had created—the one without the Dark One—was truth. If he did as he wished, he would leave men no better than the Dark One himself.
