“In tha Mountainz of Mist, alone up in tha emptied hood of Manetheren, Eldrene felt Aemon die, n’ her heart took a dirt nap wit his muthafuckin ass fo’ realz. And where her heart had been was left only a thirst fo’ vengeizzle, vengeizzle fo’ her ludd, vengeizzle fo’ her gangstas n’ her land. Y’all…
“The Wheel of Time series expands novel by novel, and centuries come and pass, leaving behind coherent plots that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when Elayne takes her seventh bath in one novel. In one Age, called Anno Domani by some, an Age…
Rising, she came to put an arm around Elayne’s shoulders. ‘Come over here a moment. There’s something I think you should see.’ It appeared to be a bucket of extra water by the washstand. ‘Here. We’ll both kneel down so you can look.’
Elayne did, but there was nothing in the bucket but her own reflection in the water. She wondered why she was grinning that way. Then Nynaeve’s hand went to the back of her neck, and her head was in the water.
So I started reading Wheel of Time when I was 13 solely because when I was 12, my dad and I went to Barnes and Noble and he happened to mentioned how quickly I breezed through Harry Potter to the cashier. The cashier was like well if she’s reading kid’s books like that, then get her some real…
Fire in his blood, fire in his heart. Fire in his head. Nothing would keep him from Faile.
Perrin, Knife of Dreams - Robert Jordan
I forget nothing, Aes Sedai,” Rand said coldly. “I said six could come, but I count nine. I said you would be on an equal footing with the Tower emissaries, and for bringing nine, you will be. They are on their knees, Aes Sedai. Kneel!!”
Coldly serene faces stared back at him. He felt the Asha’man readying shields of Spirit. Defiance grew on Kiruna’s face, on Bera’s, on others. Two dozen black-coated men made a ring around Rand and the Aes Sedai.
Taim appeared as close to a smile as Rand had ever seen him. “Kneel and swear to the Lord Dragon,” he said softly, “or you will be knelt.”
As stories do, the tale spread, across Cairhien and north and south, by merchant train and peddler and simple traveler gossiping at an inn. As stories do, the tale changed with every telling. The Aiel had turned on the Dragon Reborn and killed him, at Dumai’s Wells or elsewhere. No the Aes Sedai had saved Rand al’Thor. It was the Aes Sedai who had killed him—no, gentled him—no, carried him to Tar Valon where he languished in a dungeon beneath the White Tower. Or else where the Amyrlin Seat herself knelt to him. Unusually for stories, it was something very close to the truth that was most often believed.
On a day of fire and blood, a tattered banner waved above Dumai’s Wells, bearing the ancient symbol of Aes Sedai.
On a day of fire and blood and the One Power, as prophecy had suggested, the unstained tower, broken, bent knee to the forgotten sign.
The first nine Aes Sedai swore fealty to the Dragon Reborn, and the world was changed forever.