Luc stood at the mouth of the Pit of Doom, watching at the unmoving valley far below. His father had been killed in the Last Battle, a year previous. How he hated that man who called himself Luc's father! He wasn't a father at all, not truly. He had raised him as his own, but never truly cared for him.

His father went by three names: Isam, Slayer, and Luc, like himself. Isam had found him years ago and had raised him, teaching him how to fight and survive. He thanked him for that, but unfortunately, too many people knew of his father. And Luc looked too much like him to pass for a normal man.

He had hidden all his life, hiding occasionally in the Town, where the Samma N'Sei had reigned and lived until the Last Battle. Luc had fought in the Last Battle, striking the Trollocs and the Myrdraal like a shadow, slipping away before anyone saw him. He had always hidden, living in the shadows. But he had too many questions, too much uncertainty. It was time to become much more active than he'd ever been.

Isam had trained him to be an assassin, a warrior. He had given him all the tools needed, weapons. Just in case, Luc touched the sword hanging at his hip, then reached up and felt his bow and quiver full of arrows on his back. He could feel the sheaths hidden in his arms for his two knives, ones that could spring out and stay protruding from his sheathes without him holding them, but were also detachable.

It was time. He needed to know who his true parents were, not Isam, who had merely raised him. He needed to know what had really happened to Rand, because he knew he was not completely dead. Somehow, he could tell. He had to find out, and the only way he knew to do that was to start in the Palace of Caemlyn with Elayne, the Queen of Andor.

Face grim, he flipped the hood up of his white coat, re-adjusted his belt, and tugged on his right boot, which was slightly loose. He tightened his greaves and gave one last look at the valley of Thakan'dar from under the low triangle that hung low from his hood, adorned by an eagle. Then he set off, ready to face whatever challenges awaited him.

Elayne sat down on her chair with a sigh. She was in her rooms at the Palace of Caemlyn, and she was tired from overseeing the re-building of Caemlyn all day. She wished Birgitte were here, but she had returned to Tel'aran'rhiod. She had probably been born already, as Gaidal had nearly two years ago. Why was it so bloody hot?

"Ugh." She said. "Dyelin, am I the only one who thinks it is really hot for this summer? It's flaming annoying!" Dyelin sat watching her and bounced a little girl on her knee. Elayne couldn't help smiling at her daughter, Egwene. Her son, Gawyn, lay curled up on the floor, sleeping.

"I'm not that happy with the heat either, Elayne. But it's summer. What did you expect it to be?"

"I know what I wish it to be." She grumbled and looked out her window. She wished she knew what it was that was really irritating her. It was not the heat; it was the fact that she could feel something important, something big, and getting closer. She hoped Rand would stop by soon. He was a very comforting man, even with his new body.

With a start, she realized that the sense of the- "impact" would be the right word- was getting stronger. Whatever it was, it was coming.

Perrin Aybara stood on his balcony, staring off into the distance. He was in his mansion in the Two Rivers, now a rapidly growing trade center. Being a High Lord was even tougher than a lord! But he could manage. Especially with his wife Faile by his side.

As I thoughts were summons, his incredibly sharp wolf nose caught her scent behind him. He didn't move, but his heart gave a happy flutter at her. She came up to stand next to him, laying a hand on his arm. He still stared off into the distance. "Husband, what is wrong? Almost a week ago, you've been acting so…different. Why are you like this?" she asked. He was almost surprised by her approach to this. Normally, she was sly, not bludgeoning.

He stayed silent, staring off in the direction off Shayol Ghul, many miles away. Her scent of unease increased. "Perrin?"

Finally, he turned his head and looked down at her. "It's something from the Last Battle." He said. She stiffened at the memories. "When I killed Slayer, I felt…well, good. My worst enemy was dead, never to bother me again. But, like you said, a week ago, something felt off. It's like Slayer's back…but he is dead. I killed him solidly. I think something like Slayer has come to this world, and is going to make himself known. I just have to be ready. I just hope he really isn't back." He stopped. She stared into his eyes for a long while.

"Come with me." She said, and led him back to their room. But he still chanced one look back at the dark night sky, tensed for the assured struggle soon to come.