A Wheel of Time Fanfiction : Heir of the Shadow

Emergence into the Blighted Lands

The air rippled, shimmering like heat waves as a gateway tore through the fabric of the Pattern. From its depths, Naravoss stepped onto the corrupted soil of the Blight, his dark cloak billowing around him. The stench of decay and rot assaulted his senses, the land itself warped by the Dark One's influence. Yet, Naravoss did not falter.

Saidin surged within him, a storm of pure power. The taint clung to it, a vile, oily slick of madness and corruption, but he did not feel it as others might. For him, the power was pristine, unblemished by the touch of the Dark One. He knew this immunity, this strange blessing, was a consequence of the sealing. He had been caught in the Bore's collapse, his essence intertwined with the Great Lord's will. Whether this protection had been deliberate or incidental, he could not say. It was a mystery that lingered, even now.

"I should send Lews Therin a fruit basket next Bel Tine," Naravoss muttered, a wry smirk crossing his alabaster face. "What a gift he left me."

The ground beneath him cracked and split, tendrils of black rot spreading outward as he channeled Saidin. Destruction came easily to him, an art he had perfected. The air around him shimmered as he wove.

Weaves of Destruction

Naravoss raised a hand, and with it came the first of his destructive weaves:

Earthfire – A combination of Earth and Fire, creating fissures in the ground that erupted with molten rock and flame.

Reference: Variants of this weave are described in "The Eye of the World" (Book 1) during battles involving male channelers manipulating the terrain.

Lightning Storm – Air and Fire woven into a chaotic tempest of lightning that strikes repeatedly over a wide area.

Reference: Moiraine uses similar weaves in "The Eye of the World" (Book 1) during the flight from Shadar Logoth.

Collapse – Earth and Spirit, woven into a precise strike that caused sections of the ground to implode.

Reference: The weave resembles terrain-altering destruction described in "The Shadow Rising" (Book 4), when Rand trains with powerful Earth-centric weaves.

Wind of Death – Air and Spirit shaped into an invisible, slicing wind that shredded everything in its path.

Reference: This weave draws on elements of "Whirlwind" described in "Lord of Chaos" (Book 6), adapted for precision destruction.

Flame Blossom – A destructive weave of Fire and Air that causes explosions to ripple outward in rapid succession, mimicking the blooming of deadly flowers.

Reference: This weave is inspired by similar explosive effects used in "The Fires of Heaven" (Book 5) during the battles.

Among these, Flame Blossom was his favorite. It was both artistic and devastating, a precise and rhythmic unleashing of power that left scorched patterns across the land. Naravoss wove it now, his movements fluid and deliberate. The Blight itself seemed to recoil as bursts of flame erupted, leaving trails of blackened ruin.

Sword Training Amid Destruction

As the flames subsided, Naravoss drew his sword with a resigned sigh. It was a heron-marked blade, a relic from the Age of Legends that marked him as a blademaster. Though he found wielding a sword burdensome compared to the raw might of Saidin, he could not deny the skill he had honed.

He moved through a series of forms, each executed with lethal precision.

The Heron Wading in the Rushes flowed seamlessly into The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain.

The River Undercuts the Bank transitioned into The Falcon Stoops.

Each form was a dance of death, the blade an extension of his will. As he practiced, the memory of past battles came unbidden. Naravoss had dueled some of the greatest swordsmen of his time, his mastery unmatched. Yet, he always considered it a tool, useful, but secondary to the true might of the One Power.

The Memory of the Bore

As the silence settled, his thoughts drifted back to the moment of his sealing. He remembered the chaos, the unbearable pull of the Dark One's touch as it dragged him toward the Bore. The world had seemed to collapse around him, the Pattern shredding as the seals were placed. And yet, amidst the madness, there had been a presence.

He could still feel it, even now. A protective sphere had surrounded him, shielding him from the chaos of the Bore. It had been warm, almost comforting, yet it carried an undercurrent of raw, volatile power, the kind that could unmake creation itself. He had heard legends of the True Power, the Saa, but he could not be certain if that was what he had felt. The faint and elusive nature of the power had left him questioning its origin.

This power was unlike Saidin. It was raw, overwhelming, and intoxicating. In the Bore, it had been omnipresent, mingling with the Dark One's will. Whether it had protected him intentionally or incidentally, he could not be sure. What he did know was that the faint echo of that power lingered within him, a volatile reminder of what he had touched.

For centuries, he had wondered. Had the Dark One shielded him out of necessity, preserving a valuable pawn? Or was there another reason, something deeper? The possibility of it being the True Power added another layer of mystery.

A Mystery Unfolds

Naravoss shook himself from his reverie, his dark eyes narrowing as he surveyed the ruins around him. The protection he had felt during the sealing still lingered within him, a part of him now. But it was more than a shield. There was something volatile, something alive within that embrace. The legends of the Saa whispered in his mind, but he could not confirm if it had truly been the fabled True Power.

"If it is a gift," he murmured, "it is one I have yet to understand."

Turning his attention back to the Blight, he began weaving destruction once more. Flame Blossom erupted from his hands, obliterating entire swathes of the corrupted land. As he worked, a sense of purpose settled over him. The Great Lord's plans were vast, and he would be the instrument to bring them to fruition.

Naravoss's smile returned, cold and sharp. The world would burn, and he would stand at the center of the storm.