Heir of the Shadow

Deep within the hidden sanctum of his Caemlyn estate, Duke Naravoss Mantear, servant of the Shadow and an architect of chaos, studied the table before him. Maps, ancient texts, and detailed notes lay scattered, marking his plans to seek out angreal and sa'angreal. These relics were not tools for balance or order; they were weapons, instruments of domination that would enable him to destroy the remnants of Lews Therin's legacy and free the Great Lord of the Dark.

For Naravoss, the quest was not a mere collection of power—it was a necessity. Saidin flowed pure and untainted through him, a gift of circumstance during the Dark One's imprisonment, and it filled him with euphoria. The female half of the One Power, Saidar, seemed like a pale reflection in comparison, something to be surrendered to rather than mastered. Naravoss viewed it with disdain. The Shadow's victory would come not from balance, but from mastery, subjugation, and absolute control.

"I will tear apart this world's order," he murmured to the silent room. "Piece by piece, I will remake it in his image."

The initial whispers of possible relics came from his vast network of informants—Darkfriends, spies, and compelled agents who moved unseen through Andor and beyond. Their reports were layered with half-truths and superstition, but Naravoss had a keen mind for separating useful leads from nonsense. From ancient watchtowers to forgotten caverns, each location marked a potential piece of the Shadow's arsenal.

The first destination was a forgotten watchtower in the hills of Murandy, a relic from the Age of Legends. Tales of glowing lights and strange occurrences at its summit intrigued him.

Arriving in the dead of night, Naravoss unraveled the ancient wards protecting the site. The air buzzed with latent power as he uncovered a small angreal—a figurine of a serpent, its emerald eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. It pulsed with a familiar darkness, amplifying Saidin in ways that sent shivers of delight through him.

"Perfect," he said softly, placing the relic into a warded container. "This is but the first."

The next lead took him to Haddon Mirk, where rumors spoke of ghostly lights in the swamps. Naravoss arrived prepared, his wards protecting him from both the terrain and the whispers of shadowy figures lingering in the dark.

Within the caverns, he discovered a sphere of black crystal, faintly warm to the touch. The angreal was bound by decaying weaves of Air and Spirit, defenses that crumbled under his skilled hands. Holding the artifact, he felt the amplification of Saidin's destructive force, the power surging like wildfire through his veins.

"This will burn the Light to ash," he murmured with satisfaction.

Maredo, a city long abandoned, offered greater rewards. Hidden beneath the rubble was a crystalline rod, a sa'angreal that radiated overwhelming power. Naravoss marveled at its craftsmanship, a relic from an age when the Shadow walked openly among men.

The artifact required care, its potency capable of overwhelming even him. Yet, with precise control, Naravoss tamed it, the rod pulsing with destructive potential. "A weapon for the end of days," he said, sealing it within a container bound with Shadow-wrought wards.

Ebou Dar held a crescent-shaped angreal, locked within a heavily warded vault. Naravoss took pleasure in dismantling the weaves left by Aes Sedai, noting their crudeness compared to the sophistication of the Age of Legends. The angreal amplified Saidin's precision, ideal for controlled chaos and destruction.

As he held the artifact, a wicked smile crossed his lips. "The White Tower cannot fathom what they have lost."

Nine more relics were added to his collection over the following months:

Altara's Tower of Ravens: A crystalline necklace unearthed from collapsed stone.

Kandor's Frozen Caves: A staff of ivory, etched with runes of power.

Fal Dara Archives: A serpent-carved jade angreal hidden among forgotten scrolls.

The Tarabon Marshes: A golden circlet found buried in an ancient tomb.

Ruins of Cairhien: A silver rod with bronze filigree, gleaming faintly.

The City of Far Madding: A bracelet of onyx and emerald, immune to its Guardian's influence.

The Vaults of Tear: A palm-sized cube of obsidian, encased in wards.

The Lost Temple of Tova: A headdress of gold and silver strands, nearly forgotten in legend.

The Blight Border: A chalice of obsidian, resonating with destructive Spirit weaves.

Each acquisition brought him closer to his goal. The relics became an arsenal of shadow, their combined might capable of reshaping the world.

Standing in his sanctum, Naravoss surveyed his growing collection. The angreal and sa'angreal pulsed faintly, their power subdued within their wards. Yet, for all his achievements, a bitterness lingered. The seed—key to forging new angreal—remained out of reach. Without it, he was limited to relics of the past.

"The Age of Legends created marvels," he muttered, "and now, we fight over its scraps. But the Shadow will see it all reborn."

Naravoss's gaze hardened as he considered his next steps. The Shadow's goal was clear: Lews Therin Telamon and his reborn soul must be destroyed, and the Dark One freed from his prison. These artifacts were weapons for that purpose, tools to unravel the seals and unleash chaos upon the Light.

"My Great Lord," he whispered, his voice reverent yet fierce. "I will be the one to set you free."

The Wheel turned, and Naravoss Mantear, Duke of North Caemlyn, stood ready to weave destruction into the Pattern.