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 great city of Muffinville. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning. The wind blew down the streets, past cafes closed for the weekend, magic shops bursting with ancient artifacts, towers of impossible heights. It twirled, picking up a few cherry blossoms as it blew past a young-ish man.
Nos rubbed at his arms a bit. "Yikes, it's a little chilly. I thought it's supposed to be spring." He shivered from the sudden wind, glancing around. It had been . . oh, at least an ice age or two since he had been here, it felt. Or maybe less. Probably, most certainly less than that.