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 First Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a man drove on the coast of North Carolina. The man was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But he was a beginning.
The man drove inland in the murky hours that some say are still night and some call early morning, away from the rough waters of the Atlantic Ocean and then into South Carolina. As the sun started to peek over the tree-line, his back was already to it, and he coursed ever inland towards that great hub city known as Atlanta. Here, the weather was calm, but a storm was brewing that would soon blanket the land in rain and thunder. The man paid little heed to these things, though, for he had found his shelter at the Crowne Plaza Ravinia. He had found his shelter at JordanCon.
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