"Stay within the light of the fire," Moiraine warned, her voice strained. "Do not touch anything. Not a stone, not a coin. The evil here is not the Dark One’s, but it is just as hungry."

But hunger takes many forms. While Rand and Egwene whispered of home by the flickering flames, Mat’s eyes wandered. He found it in the dust: a dagger with a ruby the color of fresh blood, pulsing with a light that felt like a friend. He slipped it into his coat, a small weight that felt heavier than the world.

The choice was simple: the teeth of the Myrddraal or the silence of the fallen city.

Then, the shadows moved. Not because the sun set, but because the darkness began to flow like ink across the floor. Mashadar. "Run!" Lan’s voice cracked like a whip.