A Wheel of Time Fanfiction : Heir of the Shadow

In the distant lands untouched by the chaos of the Two Rivers, the freed Chosen began to stir. Aginor, his once-proud features marred by the corruption of the Dark One's power, stood over a bubbling cauldron of alchemical horrors. He worked tirelessly in a shadowed cavern, creating new weapons for the Shadow's armies. His thoughts were sharp and cold, focused on the impending rise of the Great Lord.

"The Light's victory at Shayol Ghul was an illusion," Aginor muttered to himself. "Our time will come again."

Elsewhere, Balthamel, now free from the prison of the Bore, surveyed the lands with a gleaming mask hiding his grotesque features. His voice was a silken whisper as he commanded his followers. "Spread chaos. Distract the Light. The Wheel turns, and we will not falter."

Both Chosen moved with purpose, their plans unknown to one another but aligned in their service to the Dark One. Their stirrings sent ripples through the Shadow's network, reaching the ears of Darkfriends across the Westlands.

Naravoss sat in his study, the reports from his network spread before him. The events in the Two Rivers had been summarized concisely: Trollocs attacked, casualties on both sides, and Moiraine Sedai had fled with the three ta'veren boys.

"Ta'veren," he murmured, his dark eyes narrowing. The word carried weight, significance. The Pattern bent around these boys, and that alone made them both a threat and an opportunity. But there was more. Whispers of the Chosen's movements had reached his ears, scattered fragments of information pointing to their re-emergence.

He reached for the most recent report, written by a trusted Darkfriend in Caemlyn:

To the Hand:

There are signs of activity from the north. Shadowspawn have been sighted in greater numbers, moving toward the Blight's edge. Among the Darkfriends, rumors circulate of the Chosen's return. Chaos is spreading in the east.

Naravoss's mind raced. If the Chosen were indeed moving, it was both a blessing and a danger. Their plans often served the Shadow's greater purpose, but their ambitions made them unpredictable. He needed more information.

Naravoss called for one of his most trusted agents, a man known only by the codename The Whisper. The agent arrived swiftly, bowing low before Naravoss.

"You summoned me, my lord?" The Whisper asked, his voice calm and steady.

"The Chosen," Naravoss said, handing him the report. "Find me every Darkfriend with knowledge of their movements. Merchants, mercenaries, beggars I want their eyes and ears watching. Let none slip through the cracks."

"It will be done," The Whisper replied, disappearing as silently as he had come.

As Naravoss returned to his desk, he stared at the map of the Westlands. The Shadow's hand was spreading, but so too was the Pattern's resistance. He would need to act decisively to bend both to his will.

The attack on the Two Rivers had been a tactical failure. The Trollocs, though ferocious, had been repelled by the combined efforts of Moiraine, Lan, and the villagers. Casualties were high, with several homes reduced to ash and families shattered. Yet, the Shadow had achieved a secondary objective: forcing the ta'veren boys to leave the safety of their village and begin their journey.

Moiraine's actions had ensured their survival, but Naravoss saw the vulnerability in her plan. The boys were untrained, unaware of their significance, and ripe for manipulation. If the Chosen moved quickly, they could seize this opportunity to shape the boys' destiny.

In the Blight, the Dark One's forces were amassing. Shadowspawn poured from the northern wastes, their numbers bolstered by Aginor's horrific creations. Myrddraal led them in disciplined formations, their eyeless gazes fixed on the lands of the south. The Chosen, each operating independently, began to weave their plans into the Pattern, their goals as varied as their personalities.

Naravoss saw the signs clearly. The Shadow's momentum was building, and he would ensure it was not wasted. The Light had won a battle, but the war was far from over. And when the Shadow's tide rose, it would consume everything in its path.