Kevin's Watch

"And Foul didn't understand. Maybe be was too far gone.
Or maybe he just refused to believe it. But he tried to ignore
the paradox. The paradox of white gold. And the paradox of
himself. He wanted the white gold—the ring. But I'm the
white gold too. He couldn't change that by killing me. When
he hit me with my own fire, he did me one thing I couldn't
do for myself. He burned the venom away. After that, I was
free."

He paused for a moment, turned inward, "I didn't know
what was going to happen, I was Just terrified that he would
let me live until after he attacked the Arch." Dimly, she re-
membered the way Covenant had jibed at Lord Foul as if
he were asking for death.

When he killed TC,thats when the arch of time became TC and he was able to not fight back.

Linden now possesses the ring, but she is not the white gold as TC was.

"Farewell, beloved."

His response came softly, receding along the wind. "There's
no need for that I'm part of you now. You'll always re-
member."

Remember that not only did TC need to die before Foul attempted the Arch, but the Law of Life needed to be broken in order for TC to act without the constraint of being called back with only the Law of Death broken. Without the Law of Life broken, he was Foul's to control when called back. I could be wrong, but the attack on the Arch with the White Gold called TC back from the dead (implictly), where he would have no freedom had the Law of Life not been broken previously. Since it had, he was free, preventing Foul from mastering the White Gold, since he is the White Gold.

White gold isnt gone. If it was gone,so would the crux of the arch of time...thus it would collasp =)

KaosArcana wrote:So I think that whoever owns the ring IS the white gold. Its power is defined by its wielder.

KaosArcana wrote:You know, here's a question. People keep saying that Covenant is "the white gold" ... but the Arch of time existed before Covenant ever got his ring. So who was the white gold before Covenant?

Fist and Faith wrote:
-White Gold is not wild magic. It is a tool, possibly the only tool, that allows the wielder to access the wild magic that is "graven in every rock." (And - to make random, useless speculation - maybe white gold is the best tool because only <I>it</I> lets you use the wild magic in any way imaginable. But maybe you can use the wild magic in any way imaginable no matter <I>how</I> you gain access to it.).

Fist and Faith wrote:
-Wild magic is not the Arch of Time, though it is the "keystone" of the Arch. To compare, we can build an arch out of stone, but that doesn't mean stone=arch. But I get the impression that wild magic could destroy the Arch even if it wasn't the keystone. It doesn't seem to have any limits.

But she held wild magic clenched like bright passion in her
right fist; and her left hand gripped the living Staff. Both were
hers to wield. Guided by her health-sense—by the same vul-
nerability which let the Sunbane run through her like a riptide,
desecrating every thew of her body, every ligament of her will
—she stood within her mind on the high slopes of Mount
Thunder and set herself to do battle with perversion.

It was a strange battle, weird and terrible. She had no op-
ponent. Her foe was the rot Lord Foul had afflicted upon the
Earthpower; and without him the Sunbane had neither mind
nor purpose. It was simply a hunger which fed on every form
of nature and health and life. She could have fired her huge
forces blast after blast and struck nothing except the ravaged
ground, done no hurt to anything not already lost. Only scant
moments after dawn, green sprouts of vegetation stretched
like screams from the soil.

And beyond this fertility lyrked rain and pestilence and
desert in erratic sequence, waiting to repeat themselves over
and over again, always harder and faster, until the founda-
tions of the Land crumbled. Then the Sunbane would be free
to spread.

Out to the rest of the Earth.

But she had learned from Covenant—and from the Raver's
possession. She did not attempt to attack the Sunbane. In-
stead, she called it to herself, accepted it into her personal
flesh.

With white fire she absorbed the Land's corruption.

At first, the sheer pain and horror of it excruciated her
hideously. One shrill cry as hoarse as terror ripped her throat,
rang like Kevin's despair over the wide landscape below her,
echoed and echoed in Kiril Threndor until the Giants were
frantic, unable to help her. But then her own need drove her
to more power.

The Staff named so intensely that her body should have
been burned away. Yet she was not hurt. Rather, the pain she
had taken upon herself was swept from her—cured and
cleansed, and sent spilling outward as pure Earthpower. With
Law she healed herself.

She hardly understood what she was doing: it was an
act of exaltation, chosen by intuition rather than conscious
thought. But she saw her way now with the reasonless clarity
of Joy. It could be done: the Land could be redeemed. With
all the passion of her thwarted heart, all the love she had
learned and been given, she plunged into her chosen work.

She was a storm upon the mountain, a barrage of determi-
nation and fire which no eyes but hers could have witnessed.
From every league and hill and gully and plain of the Land,
every slope of Andelain and cliff of the peaks, every southern
escarpment and northern rise, she drew ruin into herself and
restored it to wholeness, then sent it back like silent rain,
anaiystic and invisible.