New God(wheel of time)

Chapter 31: The Forging of Might

The embers of their campfire cast flickering shadows against the trees, the night's stillness pressing in. Moraine sat wrapped in her cloak, her face turned toward the flames, though her thoughts were elsewhere. Lan, ever watchful, cleaned his blade with quiet efficiency, while Eryndor sat apart, hands resting on his knees.

Something stirred within him. A hum beneath his skin, a pulse of… creation.

It was not the One Power. Not saidin, not saidar. It was his own essence, his divine might coiling at the edges of his awareness, seeking release. He had bent reality before, unmaking the Trollocs with a mere thought, but this was different. This was not destruction—it was birth.

The knowledge settled into him as if it had always been there. He could shape. He could forge.

His gaze flicked to Lan. The Warder was a warrior unlike any he had ever seen. A man whose blade was an extension of himself. Yet even the finest steel had limits.

Lan sensed the scrutiny and met Eryndor's eyes with a raised brow. "You look as if you have something to say."

"I have something to give," Eryndor corrected.

Lan frowned slightly but said nothing as Eryndor extended his hand, palm facing upward.

The world breathed.

A deep, resonant hum filled the clearing. The fire flickered wildly, Moraine's eyes widening as she sat upright. The very air around them seemed to vibrate, as though reality itself trembled at what was about to occur.

Then, it began.

From nothingness, light gathered in Eryndor's palm, coalescing into a molten brilliance, shifting, taking shape. It was not metal, not fire, not anything forged by mundane hands—this was pure will made manifest.

The glow dimmed, and in his grasp lay a sword.

It was unlike any blade of this world. The hilt gleamed with dark silver, smooth yet unyielding. The crossguard extended in sharp, elegant curves, as if shaped by the wind itself. The blade… the blade was black as the void, swallowing the firelight, yet edged with a thin, glowing silver aura that pulsed with unseen power.

Eryndor held it out to Lan.

The Warder hesitated for only a moment before accepting the weapon. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, his breath hitched. Strength surged through him—raw, unrelenting. His limbs felt as though they had been reforged, muscles humming with power, his senses sharpening beyond even his formidable limits.

Lan's eyes narrowed as he tested the weight, adjusting his grip. "What… is this?"

Eryndor's voice was steady. "A blade worthy of your strength."

Moraine was staring, her Aes Sedai composure cracking. "This is not wrought from the One Power," she murmured. "It is something else entirely."

Eryndor nodded. "It is mine. My power, my creation." He gestured to the blade. "It will grant you the strength of a bull, enough to stand against even the Shadow's creatures unaided. And it will shield you from the powers wielded by Aes Sedai and the Forsaken alike—no weave shall touch you while it is in your grasp."

Lan studied the blade, expression unreadable. He had wielded many weapons, but none like this. Finally, he spoke, voice low. "Does it have a name?"

Eryndor considered for only a moment before the answer formed within him, ancient and undeniable.

"Torasúl."

The name rang through the clearing, a whisper of power, as though the world itself acknowledged it.

Lan tested the blade, swinging it in a slow arc. It moved like an extension of his will, weightless yet solid, bound to him in a way no other sword had ever been. He exhaled softly.

"A fine gift," he said at last, voice quiet but firm.

Eryndor inclined his head. "A fine warrior deserves no less."

Moraine studied him, her gaze sharp. She was beginning to understand—he was not simply powerful. He was not merely a mystery.

He was a force beyond the Pattern itself.

And she was no longer certain whether even the Wheel could weave him into its design.

The fire crackled, and the night stretched on, but none of them slept easily. For the world had changed yet again, and none knew what dawn would bring.