Robert Jordan Das Rad Der Zeit 01 14 Rar ★ [RECENT]

The night brought fire and screams. Trollocs, beast-men of nightmare, tore through the thatched roofs with curved blades. The Myrddraal, eyeless and terrifying, moved with the grace of serpents. Rand watched his world burn, his father wounded by a tainted blade, and realized the stories he had heard by the fireplace were no longer tales. They were his life.

Rand looked at his friends—Mat Cauthon, whose luck was beginning to turn strange, and Perrin Aybara, whose eyes were starting to burn with a golden, wolfish light. They were Ta’veren, focal points of the Pattern, and their journey would span fourteen volumes of blood, elemental magic, and the shifting of empires. Robert Jordan Das Rad Der Zeit 01 14 rar

In the quiet village of Emond’s Field, the air tasted of coming snow despite the spring festival of Bel Tine. Rand al’Thor, a tall lad with eyes the color of a stormy sea, walked the Quarry Road with his father, Tam. They moved in silence, a heavy, watchful silence that had gripped the Two Rivers since the arrival of the black-cloaked rider who seemed to vanish like a shadow in the sun. The night brought fire and screams

In the village square, a woman of regal bearing and eyes that held the wisdom of centuries watched them approach. Moiraine Damodred, an Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah, felt the pattern ripple. For twenty years, she had searched for the spark—the child born to face the Dark One as the Dragon Reborn. Now, the threads were pulling tight. Rand watched his world burn, his father wounded

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 wind rose in the Mountains of Mist.

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," Tam murmured, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword—a heron-marked blade that Rand had never seen him carry before.