The Wheel of Time Int
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THE WHEEL OF TIME INT. PALACE - DAY Sunset casts red light and long shadows through the spacious windows, shattered, glass shards strewn on tile floors sullied with dark stains: mud, soot, blood. LEWS THERIN Ilyena? Enter LEWS THERIN, the master of the house, tall and broad shouldered, his flowing hair streaked with too much grey, aged beyond his years from worry. He is dressed formally, as if for a party. LEWS THERIN Where are you, my love? His long stride carries him into what was once a hallway, where a blasted hole gapes out over a horrific vista: The sprawling city in the valley below Lews Therin's mansion is ablaze. Black dots scurry like so many frenzied ants, fleeing the carnage, but the flames are everywhere. The earth shudders and groans, the walls of the palace wavering, but Lews Therin stands still, like a veteran sailor on a choppy sea. Lews Therin looks for a moment, dazed, his mouth moving silently and he whispers to himself. He turns and moves on, stepping over the rubble. Beneath it, a lifeless human arm protrudes, unnoticed. LEWS THERIN Ilyena, our guests will be arriving soon! He passes a doorway into a grand hall. The staircase dominating the room ascends to a mezzanine which circles the walls. The rug over the marble floor is red, and at the foot of the staircase, in resplendent thread-of-gold, a serpentine beast with four legs is worked into the fabric. Red banners drape the walls. He hurries up the stairs, grinning mischievously. LEWS THERIN Are you and the children playing a game? Hiding from me? Come out! Come out and we'll invite our guests to join in! Lews Therin pushes through double doors, engraved with winged serpents, into the master suite. Before a great glass window, its frame shaped like a wheel with seven spokes, an imposing figure, in an elegant military uniform of black with silver epaulets and trimming, watches the city burn. He turns: it is BAALZAMON, his face stuck in a permanent grimace. 2. BAALZAMON Hello, Lews Therin. I don't think either of us expected to meet again so soon. His voice is soft and croaks, as if his throat were parched. LEWS THERIN (friendly, off guard) Welcome to my home, general! Just the sort of punctuality I would expect from a military man: you're the first to arrive. Baalzamon ponders his nemesis with silent disgust, disbelief. Could he really have forgotten? LEWS THERIN I beg your forgiveness, I do not know your face. Make yourself at home anyway, today's celebration belongs to all who walk in the Light! BAALZAMON Are you so far gone already? For once, Lews Therin, you disappoint. LEWS THERIN Ilyena and the children are playing a game, hiding all around the house. Let's find them, and then it will be our turn! He smiles, but his eyes are distant, unfocused. They perceive neither Baalzamon's obvious hatred nor the damaged room around them. Baalzamon snarls, suddenly furious. BAALZAMON Fool! There is nothing to celebrate! Look, and behold what victory you and your Hundred Companions have won! Look upon the handiwork of the greatest channelers of our age! He gestures out the window, at the ruin of a civilization. Down in the valley great domes crumble, towers of steel bend and collapse under their own weight, gardens and villas burn. We hear an explosion, screaming. LEWS THERIN Ilyena, darling! Come out and meet... What did you say your name is? 3. Baalzamon's eyes and the pit of his mouth erupt in flame. BAALZAMON (deeper than any human voice could be) I am Baalzamon! Know me, Lews Therin Telamon! Know me, Dragon! We have fought across a thousand-thousand lifetimes, and I have won again! Lews Therin chuckles, amused, a wild light dancing in his eyes. BAALZAMON I will restore you, for a moment. A moment of sanity, so you can realize what you have wrought. A glow surrounds Baalzamon, as he gestures with a gloved hand at Lews Therin. The light goes out of Lews Therin's eyes and his grin falls. His face shows the stress of two decades of war. But still he disregards Baalzamon and the horrors outside the window. Now he looks past his enemy, to the bed, in horror. With a cry, Lews Therin rushes over to the bed where ILYENA, golden-haired, beautiful, lifeless, lies. He drops to his knees, holds her. LEWS THERIN No! Damn you, Elan, what have you done? BAALZAMON All this you, Lews Therin, have wrought! You, and all the men who fought for you. Lews Therin looks back at him, tears streaming from his eyes, now all-too comprehending. LEWS THERIN Where are my children? Baalzamon, his eyes and mouth returned to those of a man, looks down at Lews Therin with something close to pity. Lews Therin bows his head and sobs. BAALZAMON (his human voice) I can feel the Bore pulling at me. Soon I will rest, and the next you and I meet will be a millennia (MORE) 4. BAALZAMON (cont'd) hence, and you will remember me not. It's time to resume your madness, Lews Therin. LEWS THERIN (rising) No! No, I will end this, here and now! A glow surrounds Lews Therin as he begins drawing the Power to him. BAALZAMON Until we meet again, Dragon. A fold in reality opens behind Baalzamon, some other place shimmering on the other side as if seen through water. It closes as he steps through. Lews Therin draws more and more of the Power, the glow around him brilliant white now, engulfing him. He screams in agony. Only the contour of his bones are visible, black in the white light. The palace collapses in on itself, crumbling, stones falling. EXT. PALACE - DAY The palace, engulfed in flame, collapsing into the earth. The beam of white light shines from its center up into a sky of roiling black clouds. The palace is engulfed in the shining light of Lews Therin Telamon's last act. The earth opens beneath the city and it explodes in fire as the light expands outward. Then it passes, and there is only blackness. INT. THE VOID Blackness. MOIRAINE (V.O., female, authoritative, wise) And the Shadow fell upon the Land, and the World was riven stone from stone. A wheel, seven spokes, turns slowly. MOIRAINE (V.O.) The oceans fled, and the mountains were swallowed up, and the nations (MORE) 5. MOIRAINE (cont'd) were scattered to the eight corners of the World. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. A serpent flows throw the spokes and curves back to form a sideways "8" sign of infinity. Bites its own tail. MOIRAINE (V.O.) All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the Shadow and the Breaking of the World. And they named him Dragon. TITLE CARD: THE WHEEL OF TIME EXT. FOREST - DAY From above, we move down from snowy peaks to a forest gripped in the last stage of a winter that will not let go, and a spring late in coming. Evergreens patched with week old snow, hardwood trees still lacking buds. MOIRAINE (V.O.) 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, something stirs in a quiet and disregarded corner of the world called the Two Rivers by its humble people. From above, two riders on horseback: a woman with chestnut skin and flowing curling hair, MOIRAINE DAMODRED 30s, on a white mare, and a man with hair greying at the temples, LAN DAMODRED 30s, on a black stallion. They wear long travelling cloaks against the cold, his seeming to fade and blend into the land around them, but their bare faces, focused, determined, do not balk at the wind or the chill. They ride down a long road, the forest to their right. In the distance before them, smoke rises from chimneys in the village. EXT. FOREST - DAY MAT CAUTHON, a lad in his late teens, and his younger accomplice EWIN, lurk behind a log by the river. They watch as a badger cautiously exits its den. 6. With unusual grace Mat leaps over the log, a canvass sack in his hands. He lands on the surprised animal, throwing the sack over it. It thrashes from inside. MAT Get the rope! The rope! Ewin follows Mat over the log, a thin rope in hand. He wraps it around the downturned mouth of the sack. Mat flips the bag upside down and with practiced hands ties it off with a quick knot. The boys sit opposite one another, laughing, the thrashing sack between them. Mat sees something over Ewin's shoulder. Across the river, at the woodline, a HORSEMAN robed and cowled in black on a black steed waits, watching them. He seems unreal, flat and murky. The very air about him seems less vibrant. Neither horse nor rider stirs. EWIN Mat? What is it? As Ewin begins to turn around the badger throws itself to the side and the sack starts to roll away. The boys leap onto the sack, pinning the badger down. From the dirt, Mat looks back to where he saw the horseman. There is nothing there. MAT (worried) We should be getting back.