[*]
There
was a man inside a mountain, flanked by two women, one young and the other
somehow ageless. The man was tall, with
red hair and tattoos of serpents that peeked out of the wrists of his bright
red coat. Before them there was a man
all in black, his eyes blazing with inner fire and madness. The great cave was fire and madness but,
above all else, was darkness. It was a
darkness beyond the unconscious black that claimed Harry. It was darkness beyond creation, where the
light of stars and life never touched it.
It ate at the world, and was bound by it, singular and accepting nothing
but itself. It was dark and it was the
only one there was of it.
The man
and the women struggled with the man in black over a glass sword, with the man
in red smiling in triumph, even as the man in black was frozen in horror. The sword blazed with strange light, and the
darkness retreated until was a singular point.
That point too was gone, unseen unless one looked in just the right
place and in just the right way. Where
before there had been an oppressive malignancy in the air, now it was gone and
replaced with a sense of new life.
Yet the
man in red was bleeding through his coat, great rivulets of blood that dripped
down his side and onto the rocks of the cave.
He made his way to the mouth of the cave and into the daylight, the
women following him and supporting him. Yet
the man, despite his wound, quickly left the women behind. When he went outside, the land was green and
vibrant, though the dead littered the valley below. Men, women and monsters lay on the mountain
slopes, some still bleeding. And the man
in red joined them, slipping on his own blood and falling unconscious.
The
women quickly joined him and carried him down.
They were soon joined by others, who helped the women carry the man in
red. The peoples’ joy at victory, true
and hard fought, was dampened by the sight of the man in red, but it was not
destroyed. Indeed, it could not be
destroyed. That was the point of the
fight in the cave.
The man
was taken to a tent, followed by the still form of the man in black. Harry watched as the man in red drifted in
and out of consciousness, until he finally breathed his last. Harry knew that this was Rand al’Thor, the
Dragon Reborn and a score of other names.
He knew that Rand al’Thor had sacrificed himself for the sake of the
world. And in the doing, found himself.
And so
too did Harry Potter find himself in Rand.
And
everything went dark. But this time
Harry was neither surprised, nor afraid.
There
was a man inside a mountain, flanked by two women, one young and the other
somehow ageless. The man was tall, with
red hair and tattoos of serpents that peeked out of the wrists of his bright
red coat. Before them there was a man
all in black, his eyes blazing with inner fire and madness. The great cave was fire and madness but,
above all else, was darkness. It was a
darkness beyond the unconscious black that claimed Harry. It was darkness beyond creation, where the
light of stars and life never touched it.
It ate at the world, and was bound by it, singular and accepting nothing
but itself. It was dark and it was the
only one there was of it.
The man
and the women struggled with the man in black over a glass sword, with the man
in red smiling in triumph, even as the man in black was frozen in horror. The sword blazed with strange light, and the
darkness retreated until was a singular point.
That point too was gone, unseen unless one looked in just the right
place and in just the right way. Where
before there had been an oppressive malignancy in the air, now it was gone and
replaced with a sense of new life.
Yet the
man in red was bleeding through his coat, great rivulets of blood that dripped
down his side and onto the rocks of the cave.
He made his way to the mouth of the cave and into the daylight, the
women following him and supporting him. Yet
the man, despite his wound, quickly left the women behind. When he went outside, the land was green and
vibrant, though the dead littered the valley below. Men, women and monsters lay on the mountain
slopes, some still bleeding. And the man
in red joined them, slipping on his own blood and falling unconscious.
The
women quickly joined him and carried him down.
They were soon joined by others, who helped the women carry the man in
red. The peoples’ joy at victory, true
and hard fought, was dampened by the sight of the man in red, but it was not
destroyed. Indeed, it could not be
destroyed. That was the point of the
fight in the cave.
The man
was taken to a tent, followed by the still form of the man in black. Harry watched as the man in red drifted in
and out of consciousness, until he finally breathed his last. Harry knew that this was Rand al’Thor, the
Dragon Reborn and a score of other names.
He knew that Rand al’Thor had sacrificed himself for the sake of the
world. And in the doing, found himself.
And so
too did Harry Potter find himself in Rand.
And
everything went dark. But this time
Harry was neither surprised, nor afraid.