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 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.
You can almost smell it in the air. It’s slavering fanboy-ism. It’s genuine excitement. For the first time since 1994, the world’s going to see a Wheel of Time sequel within a year of the previous volume. It’s an absolute testament to Brandon Sanderson’s work ethic, and people are understandably excited. Then, it’s the penultimate volume in the series. The series has been rightfully criticized for the glacial pacing in some of the middle volumes, but the end’s finally in sight and, knowing how well Sanderson writes endings, long-standing fans of the series are sure to be pleased. For guys like me, who’ve only read half the series, it’s that time of year where I consider, once again, re-reading the early books and catching up with the rest of the fans.