New God(wheel of time)

Chapter 12: The Weight of the PatternThe journey from Baerlon to the next village took longer than expected, each mile weighed down by the uncertainty hanging over the group. The boy—still unnamed, still an enigma—walked alongside Moiraine and Lan, his presence an ever-present shadow. His quiet demeanor, the way his gaze seemed to absorb everything around him, unsettled the others. They couldn't shake the feeling that his very existence was a spark to something larger, a force they could neither comprehend nor control.

It was early afternoon when they reached the outskirts of a dense forest, a thick wall of trees standing like silent sentinels. The air had grown heavier, thick with the scent of pine and earth. Moiraine paused at the edge of the trees, her senses stretched thin as she studied the path ahead. There was something in the air, a stirring she could not quite place.

Lan spoke first, his voice low and steady. "We shouldn't linger here. The forest is too quiet."

Moiraine nodded, her thoughts aligned with his. There was no telling what dangers might lie in wait, but she had a sinking feeling that something was coming.

The boy, walking slightly behind them, seemed unaffected. His steps were silent, and when he turned his gaze to the trees, there was a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps. It was hard to tell, but his expression grew more solemn. "They are coming," he murmured.

Moraine turned, her eyes narrowing. "Who?"

The boy's silver eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity. "The Shadow is always close. Even here, it watches."

Her heart clenched with sudden understanding. The Shadow—the Dark One, in all his terrible power, had a way of reaching into the Pattern, distorting it. There was no place on this world where his influence couldn't touch, no place untouched by the corruption of his forces.

"They're close," the boy repeated, stepping toward the trees. "I can feel them." His voice, though soft, was filled with a strange authority. It was as if his mere words had the power to shape the very air around them.

Rand, who had been walking quietly at the front, looked back toward the boy with suspicion. "How do you know that?"

The boy didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze shifted to the horizon, his eyes scanning the treeline as though searching for something unseen. "I can feel the Pattern unraveling," he said quietly. "The threads are fraying. Something—someone—is tampering with it."

The weight of his words hung in the air, thick and ominous. It was not an ordinary sense, not a mere feeling of foreboding. The boy was talking about the very fabric of reality itself, something beyond the reach of even the most powerful Aes Sedai.

Moiraine clenched her fist around the staff she carried, the smooth wood a grounding point in the face of this unknown. "We have no time to waste," she said, her voice firm. "We must move forward."

The boy's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and then, without warning, he moved ahead, his pace fluid and confident, as if he had walked this path a thousand times before. Moiraine followed close behind, Lan at her side, and the others trailing. She could feel Rand's eyes on her, a silent question in his stare.

"What are we walking into, Moiraine?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But we can't stop now. Whatever it is, we must face it."

As they continued deeper into the woods, the air grew colder. The shadows between the trees seemed to stretch longer, darker. The boy—still walking ahead, still silent—seemed to be unaffected by the growing tension. There was a calm about him, a stillness that didn't seem to fit with the increasing unease.

Suddenly, there was a crack in the silence, a sharp snap from somewhere ahead. The boy stopped dead in his tracks, his head tilting as if listening to something only he could hear. The others followed suit, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second.

Then, without warning, the boy's eyes flashed silver. In an instant, his hand reached out, his fingers moving through the air with an unnatural grace. A surge of energy seemed to ripple from him, an invisible force that made the trees shudder and groan.

"What's happening?" Rand whispered, eyes wide.

The air hummed with power, and the ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble. A low rumbling sound began to rise from the forest floor, a sound that seemed to resonate with the very earth itself.

"Something is coming," the boy said, his voice eerily calm. "And they are not what you expect."

Before anyone could respond, a dark shape shot out from the trees. It was a figure cloaked in shadow, its form barely visible in the half-light of the forest. The creature moved with a speed and fluidity that made it nearly impossible to follow.

Moiraine reached for her sword, but the boy was already moving. In a flash, he raised his hand, his fingers splayed wide. The air crackled with energy, and in an instant, the creature froze mid-air, suspended by an invisible force.

The figure struggled, its form twisting and writhing in an attempt to break free, but the boy's hold was unwavering. His silver eyes gleamed with an almost terrifying intensity.

"Who are you?" the boy demanded, his voice like a thunderclap. "What is your purpose here?"

The creature's form flickered, as though its true nature was hidden beneath layers of shadow. But then, it spoke, its voice low and rasping, filled with malice. "I am nothing but a shadow, a fragment of the Dark One's will. And I come to bring death to all who stand against him."

With a single gesture, the boy tightened his grip, and the creature let out a final, guttural scream before it was crushed into nothingness, disappearing into the air like smoke.

The forest fell silent once again, the oppressive stillness hanging in the air. The boy lowered his hand, his breathing steady, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"That... was the Shadow?" Rand whispered, his voice full of disbelief.

The boy nodded once, his eyes still glowing faintly. "A fragment. But more will come."

Moiraine watched him closely, her mind racing. This was beyond anything she had ever encountered. There was something deeply unsettling about the boy—his power, his aura—but there was also something... necessary.

"We must move quickly," Moiraine said, her voice steady despite the chaos of emotions raging inside her. "The Pattern is being tampered with, and we cannot afford to waste any more time."

With that, she turned, leading the group deeper into the forest, though her mind was already turning over the implications of the boy's abilities. Who—or what—was he? And what role did he have to play in the unfolding of the world's fate?

The answers, Moiraine realized, would not come easily. But the boy's presence was undeniable, and he was not going anywhere.