[Night fell. On the hilltop, the wind blew dust across the fragments of what had once been a ter’angreal. Below lay the tomb of Shadar Logoth, open to give the world hope.] And on distant Tremalking, the word began to spread that the Time of Illusions was at an end.
[Across the nations stories spread like spiderweb laid upon spiderweb, and men and women planned the future, believing they knew the truth.] They planned, and the Pattern absorbed their plans, weaving toward the future foretold.