Around this time last year, I mentioned that there is a certain series of books that can make my spine tingle a little bit.
And that has come to pass again: the latest Wheel of Time is out and has been cracked open. And, like all the previous books, Towers of Midnight starts with the same few lines.
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 gives it birth comes again. In one Age, called the third Age by some, ag Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose above the misty peaks of Imfaral. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
If anybody needs me, I’ll be buried in a big book…