08-12-2007, 02:51 PM
I was this close to tossing book six by mistake today. Whoops!
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It is a strange thing, to be a voice inside a head.
Of course, Lew Therin knew he was mad. He had known since that day moments - years - ages ago, standing in the Hall of the Servants, watching the golden hair of Ilyena turn slowly pink with her own blood. He had known since he saw the small bodies of children, his children, strewn about the wreckage of what had once been a glorious monument to the Light. All his doing, and he had known he was mad.
But this, this went beyond madness. He knew, knew with a terrible certainty, that he was not inside his own body, that he did not control his own actions. He was... behind... another, in the back of a dark space, watching everything strange that happened (untrained "Aes Sedai", people using horses for transportation, the barbaric new "Aiel" - this was a very different world) through the eyes of another.
An angry other, who ordered funnily-dressed lords and ladies about, who stormed after Rahvin into the depths of tel'aran'rhiod, who confronted Lanfear burning with rage for a girl who looked rather like Ilyena had before she -
He screamed with the pain of it, the terrible, horrendous pain of killing her.
And Rand al'Thor looked up out of his blankets at night and listened to the futile anguish.
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