Chapter Text
The White Tower loomed like a blade of ice against the sky. You've never imagined yourself coming close to the gates, let alone become a novice. You clenched your fists, the weight of Moiraine’s words echoing in your head:
“The Tower is your only chance to survive what you are.”
Survival. As if you hadn’t clawed your way through a lifetime of it already.
The air hummed with saidar here, thick and honeyed, but it prickled your skin like a thousand needles. You’d always felt the one power as a storm inside you—beautiful and brutal, surging when fear or rage overtook reason. Especially around men.
A memory flashed: a dim tavern, a drunkard’s hand gripping a serving girl’s wrist. Your scream had shattered every window in the room before you even knew what channeling was. The girl had fled. The man’s eyes still haunted you—wide with terror, blood trickling from his ears.
Moiraine’s hand brushed your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. “Breathe,” she murmured, though her own posture was rigid. “They will test you. Show them control, not chaos.”
Control. A joke. You’d spent years stitching shields for broken women, sparks of saidar flaring to life in alleys and barns and birthing rooms. But shields crumbled. Always.
Surprise and fear washed over you when Moraine came to you, and even understanding her reasons to take you with her back to the tower, you weren't convinced at all, certain that things would probably go wrong.
---
The testing courtyard was a cage of marble and judgment. Novices whispered behind silk sleeves as you stepped forward. The Green Sister overseeing the trial gestured to a translucent crystal, the same size of a clenched fist, resting on a pedestal.
“Levitate it. Gently.”
You reached for saidar, and the one power roared through you like a river breaking a dam. The crystal trembled, then lurched upward, wobbling wildly.
Sweat dripped down your spine as whispers erupted around you.
“No discipline.”
The Green Sister sighed, scribbling notes. “Potential, but—”
“Potential?” A voice like shards of glass cut through the murmurs. “Is that what you call a storm trapped in skin?”
A blonde woman stepped into the light, her crimson skirts rippling like blood. Her blue eyes pinned you—sharp, calculating—as she circled the pedestal.
“You reek of fear, girl. Tell me, does the Power answer your tears or your rage?”
Your jaw tightened. “Both.”
“Levitate it again,” she commanded. “And this time, stop pretending you care about being gentle.”
The crystal shot upward, spinning violently. You bit your lip until copper flooded your tongue, fighting to contain the whirlwind inside you. But the memories surged anyway—
A child’s sob in the dark. A merchant’s whip raised over a woman’s back. Your own voice, raw and desperate: “RUN!” The crackle of power tearing through the night.
The crystal exploded. Shards of glass rained down as the courtyard window shattered. Gasps echoed, but your gaze stayed locked on the woman in red.
She didn’t blink.
“Interesting,” she purred. “You channel like a cornered animal… yet you chose to protect, not destroy.”
The Green Sister stepped forward.
“Liandrin, she’s clearly unstable.”
The Green Aes Sedai addressed the other woman. So that was Liandrin.
“You mistake chaos for conviction,” Liandrin snapped, her voice colder than the Tower’s shadow. “This one doesn’t need discipline. She needs a blade sharp enough to match her edge.”
Her eyes locked onto yours again, her voice firm.
“She’s mine to train.”
Moiraine’s warning flashed in your mind—Liandrin is not kind, nor is she safe—but as the Red Sister steered you away, you caught the faintest flicker in her icy gaze. Not kindness, but hunger.
And for the first time, the storm inside of you was stilled.