The shadow rising



1 Seeds of Shadow

2 Whirlpools in the Pattern

3 Reflection

4 Strings

5 Questioners

6 Doorways

7 Playing with Fire

8 Hard Heads

9 Decisions

10 The Stone Stands

11 What Lies Hidden

12 Tanchico or the Tower

13 Rumors

14 Customs of Mayene

15 Into the Doorway

16 Leavetakings

17 Deceptions

18 Into the Ways

19 The Wavedancer

20 Winds Rising

21 Into the Heart

22 Out of the Stone

23 Beyond the Stone

24 Rhuidean

25 The Road to the Spear

26 The Dedicated

27 Within the Ways

28 To the Tower of Ghenjei

29 Homecoming

30 Beyond the Oak

31 Assurances

32 Questions to Be Asked

33 A New Weave in the Pattern

34 He Who Comes with the Dawn

35 Sharp Lessons

36 Misdirections

37 Imre Stand

38 Hidden Faces

39 A Cup of Wine

40 Hunter of Trollocs

41 Among the Tuatha’an

42 A Missing Leaf

43 Care for the Living

44 The Breaking Storm

45 The Tinker’s Sword

46 Veils

47 The Truth of a Viewing

48 An Offer Refused

49 Cold Rocks Hold

50 Traps

51 Revelations in Tanchico

52 Need

53 The Price of a Departure

54 Into the Palace

55 Into the Deep

56 Goldeneyes

57 A Breaking in the Three-fold Land

58 The Traps of Rhuidean


The Shadow shall rise across the world, and darken every land, even to the smallest corner, and there shall be neither Light nor safety. And he who shall be born of the Dawn, born of the Maiden, according to Prophecy, he shall stretch forth his hands to catch the Shadow, and the world shall scream in the pain of salvation. All Glory be to the Creator, and to the Light, and to he who shall be born again. May the Light save us from him.

—from Commentaries on the Karaethon Cycle

Sereine dar Shamelle Motara

Counsel-Sister to Comaelle,

High Queen of Jaramide

(circa 325 AB, the Third Age)



Seeds of Shadow

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose on the great plain called the Caralain Grass. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

North and east the wind blew beneath early morning sun, over endless miles of rolling grass and far-scattered thickets, across the swift-flowing River Luan, past the broken-topped fang of Dragonmount, mountain of legend towering above the slow swells of the rolling plain, looming so high that clouds wreathed it less than halfway to the smoking peak. Dragonmount, where the Dragon had died—and with him, some said, the Age of Legends—where prophecy said he would be born again. Or had been. North and east, across the villages of Jualdhe and Darein and Alindaer, where bridges like stone lacework arched out to the Shining Walls, the great white walls of what many called the greatest city in the world. Tar Valon. A city just touched by the reaching shadow of Dragonmount each evening.

Within those walls Ogier-made buildings well over two thousand years old seemed to grow out of the ground rather than having been built, or to be the work of wind and water rather than that of even the fabled hands of Ogier stone-masons. Some suggested birds taking flight, or huge shells from distant seas. Soaring towers, flared or fluted or spiraled, stood connected by bridges hundreds of feet in the air, often without rails. Only those long in Tar Valon could avoid gaping like country folk who had never been off the farm.

Greatest of those towers, the White Tower dominated the city, gleaming like polished bone in the sun. The Wheel of Time turns around Tar Valon, so people said in