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apocalypticavolition · 3 months

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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 37: What Might Be

Everyone has that moment that they've looked back on and wonder, "What if I'd done it differently?" Sometimes we can move on, put what-ifs to rest, but sometimes that question will haunt us for the rest of our lives. Don't let this post be that moment. Don't let future you think to themself, an hour from now, "What if I just hadn't spoiled the whole Wheel of Time series for myself by reading this post? What if I'd enjoyed the books by reading them without spoilers?" Don't click "Keep reading" unless you already know all the spoilers and thus will not forever be wondering.

(And yet... perhaps if you do not choose to spoil yourself, years from now you will look back on this moment and wonder what might have happened if you had.)

This chapter has a Portal Stone icon because we're doing one of the best chapters in the whole damn series.

“We stood it upright,” Alar said, “when we found it many years ago, but we did not move it. It . . . seemed to . . . resist being moved.”

Probably the Stones are all entangled in some sort of higher dimensional quantum process, on one part just to be able to function at all and on another to ensure that no one warps off to an alternate world where it turns out that the Stone was tossed into a volcanic caldera a few years back and thus they instantly die. I wonder if there's wiggle room to allow stuff like Stones falling in one world but not another, or if they're all so tied up that reorienting it in one world caused it to be fixed in all of the others too.

Forgive us for our lack of ceremony in leaving you, but the Wheel waits for no woman.

Since I've given Jordan a bit of guff here and there for enforcing his own gender beliefs on the settings, point here for having Verin use "woman" as the default term. Hashtag HER-story, amirite?

Ingtar’s back stiffened. “I hold back at nothing. Take us to Toman Head or take us to Shayol Ghul. If the Horn of Valere lies at the end, I will follow you.”

Really you might argue that this here was the real moment of redemption for Ingtar and that all the rest is just the formality of seeing it through.

I have never used a Stone; that is why your use is more recent than mine.

"Bitch I'm just covering so no one has to know you're the Dragon Reborn. Do the plot thing already!"

Also I kinda feel that Verin is really stretching the oaths she's pretending to have here.

What would I not give to talk with this girl of yours? Or better, to put my hands on her book. It is generally thought that no copy of Mirrors of the Wheel survived the Breaking whole. Serafelle always tells me there are more books that we believe lost than I could credit waiting to be found.

Honestly, even though rumors are so rarely right in this world, I think popular opinion is correct and none survive. I also find it pretty doubtful that there's that many lost books left to be recovered at this point: three and a half thousand years is a long-ass time, too long for most forms of writing to survive.

Apparently, not every Stone connects to every world, and the Aes Sedai of the Age of Legends believed that there were possible worlds no Stones at all touched.

Among others, any timeline where a Portal Stone was never constructed would by definition remain off of the network. I wonder how they decide what Stones connect to what, though. Was it perhaps based on what ifs related to the nearby areas? What other worlds were missing?

With one finger she outlined a rectangle containing eight carvings that were much alike, a circle and an arrow, but in half the arrow was contained inside the circle, while in the others the point pierced the circle through. The arrows pointed left, right, up and down, and surrounding each circle was a different line of what Rand was sure was script, though in no language he knew, all curving lines that suddenly became jagged hooks, then flowed on again.

I expect that these worlds have extremely non-Euclidean geometries at play, based on how they were used to make the Ways. Likely the arrow has something to do with a physical force, probably gravity.

As my father would have said, it’s time to roll the dice.

Headcanon: Mat is Verin's dad reborn.

“I am Rand al’Thor,” he growled. “I am not the Dragon Reborn. I won’t be a false Dragon.” “You are what you are. Will you choose, or will you stand here until your friend dies?”

As I've said before, the one thing Rand's not allowed to do is stand still: every time he does the pressure only mounts until he has to act. Verin at least offers the kindness of spelling it out for him.

The flame consumed fear and passion and was gone almost before he thought to form it. Gone, leaving only emptiness, and shining saidin, sickening, tantalizing, stomach-turning, seductive. He . . . reached for it . . . and it filled him, made him alive. He did not move a muscle, but he felt as if he were quivering with the rush of the One Power into him.

After all this time, I still can't decide if being a channeler would be really awesome or really awful.

“Father!” Rand screamed. Clawing his belt knife from its sheath, he threw himself over the table to help his father, and screamed again as the first sword ran through his chest.

Though of course the Mirror Worlds take from the Many Worlds Theory, we must remember that they're not actually the same. The Many Worlds Theory is a way of resolving one of the fundamental mysteries of quantum mechanics. When not observed, particles don't have discrete locations but probabilites of being here, there, or even over there. These odds are called a "waveform". When observed, the waveform collapses and the particle is only in one of those places. The thing scientists don't get yet is the mechanic of that collapse nor the reason. Many Worlds Theory says "The collapse is an illusion. All of those possibilities exist somewhere but since we can only exist in one place we can only ever observe one possibility. All worlds continue on, none with more value or reality than any other except in that those who exist in only one must favor where they are."

This is not what the Mirror Worlds are. The Pattern of Ages is a specific framework which dictates one reality (T'A'R) reigns supreme above all the others, and that among these the closest reflection (the Prime Reality) is inherently more valid than the increasingly distorted copies.

In Many Worlds theory, one can discuss the relative probabilties of different timelines. One location for a particle might have had a 2/3rds chance of being the real one while the other two were each only a sixth. Amid the Mirror Worlds, there's no such thing. T'A'R and the Prime reality each have a 100% chance of being true and all other worlds have a 0% chance of happening.

That said, the Wheel does seem to think some Mirror Worlds are more plausible than others, and I think Rand's journey is - at least at first - moving in order of descending plausibility. Him dying immediately when the story began is a very "likely" outcome - to some degree more likely than other potential deaths later in the timeline just because in each of those scenarios Rand had a little more experience to keep him going.

There was a year when neither merchants nor peddlers came, and when they returned the next they brought word that Artur Hawkwing’s armies had come back, or their descendants, at least.

It's bizarrely heartening to think that even the Seanchan invasion will completely miss that the Two Rivers exists.

Also note that this world - where Rand is never found by Fain or Moiraine and never leaves as a result - seems next most likely amid the categories.

Egwene grew frightened when the moods were on him, for strange things sometimes happened when he was at his bleakest—lightning storms she had not heard listening to the wind, wildfires in the forest—but she loved him and cared for him and kept him sane, though some muttered that Rand al’Thor was crazy and dangerous.

I wonder what happened to this Egwene that she accepts the Two Rivers life without complaint while Rand is forever ranting about how life should be. I also do think that the haters should remember that this is the "no inciting incident" default Egwene: a caring person who stays with Rand until the end. The pair grow apart because of outside forces, not because Egwene is fundamentally flawed as a person.

Women came, too, shouldering what weapons they could find, marching alongside the men. Some laughed, saying that they had the strange feeling they had done this before.

This is both nice foreshadowing for how the Two Rivers folk will respond to the real Shadowspawn invasion and another hint of the old blood amid the people. It would not be surprising at all if many of them were truly the last of Manetheren reborn.

Tam tried to console Rand when Egwene took sick and died just a week before their wedding.

The nextmost implausible sort of world: no inciting incident and Rand survives his channeling sickness but Egwene does not. Being a slightly mainer character than she is, it tracks that this is more plausible than a world where he dies young while she stays on track to be Wisdom.

Elayne did not look at him, of course; she married a Tairen prince, though she did not seem happy in it.

I'd be upset too in this position. What a strange world this is, that a gal who should be the first Aes Sedai queen in centuries should end up married to anyone from Tear. What the fuck is going on at the White Tower to lead to this? I would guess that the reason Moiraine didn't find Rand is that Siuan isn't Amyrlin and that whoever is in charge instead has run the place into the ground.

Also, assuming "prince" means "son of a High Lord or Lady", if not "High Lord" directly, I wonder which horrible family Elayne is stuck with.

He knew he was mad, and did not care. A wasting sickness came on him, and he did not care about that, either, and neither did anyone else, for word had come that Artur Hawkwing’s armies had returned to reclaim the land.

1. It seems that this Rand is doomed to never be able to complete his character development without the actual plot happening.

2. What's delayed the Seanchan by years if not a decade? How far back does this timeline's divergence have to be to account for all of this?

Many of the people of Caemlyn had fled already, and many counseled the army to retreat further, but Elayne was Queen, now, and vowed she would not leave Caemlyn. She would not look at his ruined face, scarred by his sickness, but he could not leave her, and so what was left of the Queen’s Guards prepared to defend the Queen while her people ran.

I expect that this was foreshadowing Caemlyn's importance in the Last Battle, an importance that Sanderson didn't fully follow up on. Even in this life, Rand finds himself head of an army by Elayne's side leading a desperate last stand.

I have won again, Lews Therin. Flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker.

There's some great details in the paragraph that precedes this bit, much too much to analyze. It says a great deal about the central nature of Rand to the Pattern that he can have so many bizarre outcomes: I expect no one else in the party had anywhere near so much variety in their lives.

We also get confirmation that Rand is Aiel, which is nice, though it's sad that the closest thing to a reference Aviendha gets in this procession is "women he had never seen before".

Of course, Rand's lovers aren't the important part here. Elayne and Min get mentioned but it is Egwene who receives a similar multi-faceted fate. So often she is a central figure in his life; she can't help but be his opposite even when their lives have gone horribly off-script.

And of course, our iconic line. The Dark One wins again and again, but like I already said: none of these worlds have even a 0.00000000000000000000000000000001 percent chance of happening. None of these victories matter in the slightest.

“Does it surprise you that your life might go differently if you made different choices, or different things happened to you? Though I never thought I—Well. The important thing is, we are here. Though not as we hoped.”

I desperately wish I had the slightest idea what Verin had seen in her procession. Were there worlds where she avoided the Black Ajah altogether, or worlds where she happily threw in with them? Maybe a world where she poisoned Cadsuane, or one where she was in Moiraine's place and threw Lanfear through the twisted red door?

You should not have tried to bring us directly here. I don’t know what went wrong—I don’t suppose I ever will—but from the trees, I would say it is well into late autumn.

Presumably it's the nature of those arrow worlds. I've joked about the Ways being akin to the inside of a black hole and suggested that they had strange geometry and I expect this is proof. They did come instantly but it also took four months by another spacetime's reckoning.

“Rand, I’d never tell anyone about—about you. I wouldn’t betray you. You have to believe that!”

It's true! Mat doesn't do that in this reality and none of the other ones count. But I do think he was tempted at points. Not enough to go through with it (and he had no real opportunity to do so), but still. Now though, that door is permanently closed.

The curly-haired youth dropped his hands from his face with a sigh. Red marks scored his forehead and cheeks where his nails had dug in. His yellow eyes hid his thoughts.

Wolf boy here probably had one hell of a time in the pack. Or perhaps he just got out of that weird timeline where he mistakes Laila for a Trolloc.

Rand backed away when she reached for him. “Don’t be foolish,” she told him. “I don’t want your help,” he said quietly. “Or any Aes Sedai help.” Her lips twitched. “As you wish.”

1. I expect that nearly everyone has now forgotten a good deal of the experience thanks to Verin's help, which ironically helps Rand even though he doesn't want it.

2. Verin must really chafe at the sheer ingratitude of this, considering just how much she's doing for the dumb boy.

3. That's the end of our chapter folks! Next time: Remember Egwene? She still exists!

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asha-mage · 4 months

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On the third day near the edge of a cliff they found what might have been a tower, though it was long since half collapsed and, to Jasin and Rand’s stunned realization, slightly melted in places. The steps had been intact enough for them to climb to the top, and there, among long weathered battlements, they built a bonfire and made camp. As night had fallen, Jasin had drawn out his hand-carved harp from the case he always kept it in, and sat on the crumbling wall to play, while the others danced, Mat and Egwene following, Perrin and Rand leading in their gentle sweeping turns around the circle of firelight. Jasin had started with sad songs- things that had seemed to fit that strange mysterious place: The Wind that Shakes the Willow, The Man Who Can’t Forget, Whispers of Blaze. It would have felt wrong for him to play any of the songs he was more practiced at- to dishonor that place with Only One Bucket Of Water or Toss the Feathers, yet it wasn’t long before he found tears threatening the edges of his eyes, and he changed tact to some of the more dignified but still upbeat pieces he knew. Coming Home From Tarwin’s Gap, Weep for Manetheren, and finally Lament for Astrael. “Beautiful Astrael, where the river meets the sea, Sing, sing, of the winds bringing him home to me, Winter’s gone and whispered far, and summer’s yet to bloom, But he’ll return, on spring’s clean burn, my love, my love, my love to me…” As the last few notes faded Jasin realized that the others had ceased their dancing. Egwene was curled up against the wall dozing, while Perrin was adjusting the fire with a long branch he had brought up for that purpose. Mat was leaning near the stairs, enjoying an illicit pipe that he was in no way yet old enough to be smoking while Rand… Rand had wandered over and was staring at Jasin, his expression unreadable. No- not him, Jasin realized- his hands, his harp. “That’s beautiful.” Rand said finally and Jasin felt himself lose focus and strike a sour note, cringing at the sound. He gave himself a shake, blinking his eyes to refocus his vision. He hadn't even realized that he began playing something else. Rand didn't seem to mind the sour note as he sat down beside Jasin on the wall, shoulder to shoulder, turning his gaze up to the stars. “I’ve never heard anything like it. Did you learn it from one of your grandfather’s music books?” Jasin shook his head and frowned, trying to recall the notes he had been playing. “No.” He said slowly. “I didn’t. This is something else I-“ He peered down at his hands. Hesitantly, he laid a hand on the harp and plucked the strings he thought he had used in as close to the order as he could remember. It was...new. Unique. And yet familiar too, like a half-recalled memory. He wondered where he had picked it up- it wasn’t like wandering minstrel’s came through the Two Rivers all that often. “I like it.” Rand said with a smile, pressing their shoulders together. “Does it have a name? “Conden Modero.” Jasin said, then shook himself in shock. Rand blinked, clearly not understanding. But Jasin did, though he didn’t know how. He could not have named the language of those words, or where they had come from, but he knew they meant March of Death. Another sad song, but beautiful too.

-- Phantom Love

My (very very late I am incredibly sorry!) submission for the @feast-of-lights Not So Secret Santa event! My chosen giftee was @darkfeanix and I really hope this was worth the weight. He asked for Randmodean which is one of those pairings I have an incredible soft spot for and well....it uh. Got away from me a bit, to the tune of 18k words. A huge thanks as always to my amazing beta @highladyluck and her incredible patience with me on this one. It would not be nearly as a good a work without her input.

Marry Winter Night to Darkfeanix and a huge happy new year to everyone! As a bonus, have the tags I threw up on A03 as a extra teaser to the fic's content.