Legacy of Chaos

   The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a world was balanced upon the razor's edge of survival and annihilation. A blow was struck, the "Last Battle" fought, and the Shadow withdrew from the land, the dark forces retreated to lick their wounds. The victorious armies danced . . . and wept, for this newfound peace had cost them dearly. . . . Yet the battle was won, and prosperity would return, for the iron fist of war was turned back, and peace became the norm . . . or so they thought.

   Fifty years after what most called Tarmon Gai'don, the Shadow once again crept forth, sending it's dread legions—the Dark One's own—to bring forth what once was before . . . Shai'tan into the world of men and ogier. Beyond those fifty long years have passed but twelve—a dozen years, and a dozen times a dozen battles, as it is, as it always has been, and as it always will be, time immeasurable; world without end.

    A speck of dust, a grain of sand; a pebble beneath the shoe. A person, a thread spun out among the Lace of Ages, driven by the Wheel of Time, powered by the True Source unto Infinity. 'Fore Shadow's blade slay Serpent and Wheel alike, must Heroes ride to destiny's end, lest dark sword fall and Pattern rip, should Heroes turn their backs. Immortal life; immortal soul. Surge of power; surge of life, a Legacy left behind. Fates untold be Luck's domain—aye! Now Chaos reigns; no fear of death holds thy heart. Dovienya; it's time to roll the dice!

Mordero daghain pas duente cuebiyari: no fear of death holds my heart.