New God(wheel of time)

Chapter 35: The Weight of Power

Night pressed against the world, the fire casting flickering shadows across the clearing. Drak'vaar rested in Lan's lap, the blade humming with silent power. He had tested it in the darkness, moving through forms with practiced ease, and though it cut through the air like any master-forged weapon, there was something more to it.

Something alive.

Moraine had felt it too. The blade had been created, not forged—willed into existence by Eryndor's power. It defied the very nature of the world, and that, more than anything, unsettled her.

Eryndor had not explained himself, nor did he seem inclined to. He merely watched the fire, unreadable as always.

Then, he spoke.

"I will not stay here long."

The words cut through the quiet, drawing all eyes to him.

Moraine frowned. "Where do you intend to go?"

Eryndor's gaze lifted to the sky, as if listening to something beyond her understanding. "Where the Pattern takes me."

Moraine's lips pressed together. "The Pattern does not simply 'take' people."

Veylan, the Wolfbrother, let out a quiet chuckle. "Perhaps it does not. But it bends for him."

Moraine exhaled sharply. She could not deny it. Every step Eryndor took reshaped the world in ways she did not yet understand.

And that made him the most dangerous force she had ever encountered.

A Shift in the PatternThe morning came with an eerie stillness. The wind did not stir. The world felt held in place, as if waiting.

Eryndor stood at the edge of the clearing, his hands at his sides, his expression calm.

Then the air shattered.

Moraine gasped as reality bent around him, folding like ripples across a still pond. Power surged—not the One Power, not something woven, but something deeper, something older.

And when the ripples faded, he was no longer alone.

A figure stood before him.

A woman.

Tall, wrapped in a cloak of shifting starlight, her face veiled in shadows. Moraine felt a weight settle on her chest, a presence that pressed against her very soul.

Lan's hand went to Drak'vaar's hilt. Rand and the others stepped back, wide-eyed, instincts screaming at them to flee.

The woman inclined her head. "So. You have begun to awaken."

Eryndor did not react. He merely regarded her with quiet intensity.

"I am called Seliah," she said. "And I have come to see what you are."

Moraine narrowed her eyes. The name meant nothing to her, but the power radiating from the woman was undeniable.

Eryndor tilted his head slightly. "You are like me."

Seliah's lips curved, though the expression did not reach her eyes. "No. I am… something less. But I have known those like you before."

Moraine's pulse quickened. What did that mean?

Seliah took a step closer, the very air shimmering around her. "Do you remember yet?"

Eryndor was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, "No."

Seliah studied him. Then, softly, she murmured, "Then you are still blind."

The wind stirred. The world breathed.

And in the space between heartbeats, she was gone.

The Road AheadMoraine's hands clenched into fists. "Who was she?"

Eryndor did not answer immediately. He merely watched the place where Seliah had stood, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally, he said, "A warning."

Moraine exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to demand answers. She had the sense that Eryndor himself did not fully understand.

But one thing was certain.

Whatever he was…

He was not alone.

And that changed everything.