Golden Thread

by sbal101

Summary:

The Golden Thread follows Elyndria, an orphan raised within the White Tower and now a rising Green Aes Sedai. Chosen to stand beside the Dragon Reborn, she is determined to prove herself in the battle against the Shadow. But as war looms and fate tightens its grip, an unshakable connection to the Dragon pulls her deeper into a destiny she doesn't yet understand.

Chapter 1: The Spark Ignites

Elyndria did not remember her mother.

It was a strange thing to lack, but it was a truth she had lived with for as long as she could recall. The only memory she had of the day she had arrived at the White Tower came from the words of a kind old woman, whose voice held the warmth of years spent in gentle care.

"You were found on the steps, wrapped in a blanket too fine for a child abandoned in the night," the woman had said, pressing a warm cup of tea into Elyndria’s small, trembling hands. "The Aes Sedai took you in, not as a daughter, but as an obligation. And the Tower does not turn away those who have nowhere to go."

But Elyndria knew better than to believe in the warmth of those words. The Tower did not turn away those who had nowhere to go but it did not open its arms in kindness either.

Warmth was not something the White Tower freely gave.

From the moment she had arrived, Elyndria had been raised not by the Aes Sedai, but by the servants. Those who moved silently through the halls, tending to the Tower’s needs with quiet diligence. They were the ones who had cared for her in the early years, fed her, clothed her, and kept her company in the shadows of the great Tower. They were the ones who had whispered to her in soft voices, their faces filled with an understanding she had never felt from the robed women who glided through the halls like statues; unseen, unknowable.

She had learned to live among them, in the quiet corners of the Tower, where the light rarely touched, and the air smelled faintly of dust and candle wax.

The servants knew the Tower’s true rhythm, the unspoken rules that governed its dark corners. They were the ones who told her the secrets, the quiet stories of the Tower’s past, the legends of those who had walked its halls long before her. They spoke of old lives and lost histories, of the great Aes Sedai who had shaped the world, and of the long shadows that hung over every stone of the Tower.

But no matter how many stories they shared, Elyndria knew there were things they left unsaid things that hovered just beyond the reach of her understanding.

The novices, too, whispered, their voices filled with a kind of reverence and fear.

They spoke of the Pattern; of Tar Valon being the center of it, and how no one ever came here by accident.

Elyndria had overheard those conversations more than once, as the novices passed her in the long corridors. She could hear the murmurs of their wonder, their awe, their fear of the Tower’s mysteries, and of the Pattern itself. It was a thing woven into the very fabric of existence, and yet, no one spoke of it openly.

Elyndria was twelve years old when the first spark of power ignited within her.

It was a cold morning in winter, and the White Tower was shrouded in mist, the air crisp and sharp as if the very stone of the Tower was biting at the skin.

She had been tasked with running errands for the servants, her small hands clutching bundles of cloth as she crossed the stone bridge that led to the outer courtyard. The early morning fog hung low, obscuring her view and making the stones beneath her feet slick with frost.

She had grown accustomed to the Tower’s cold, its quiet, its endless silence but this morning, the chill seemed to bite deeper than usual, gnawing at her bones. She was trying to hurry, thinking of the warm fires in the kitchens, the smell of fresh bread that would fill the air once she returned, when the worst happened.

Her foot slipped. The world seemed to twist beneath her, the icy stone bridge shifting into a blurred mass as she stumbled, her arms flailing.

In that split second, as she teetered on the edge, her heart slammed in her chest, her mind screaming in terror as she realized she was falling. The ground below was a cruel expanse of jagged stone, the height dizzying. The sharp terror of falling consumed her as she gasped for breath, unable to catch herself in time.

But then… warmth.

It was so sudden and so sharp it stole the air from her lungs. Something invisible, a force of nature beyond her comprehension, wrapped around her. It was as if the world itself had reached out to save her, as if the very air had turned soft, like a blanket, and gently caught her.

Her body stopped mid-fall with an abruptness that sent shockwaves of confusion and relief through her.

Her feet were back on solid ground, the bridge beneath her again, though her heart was still racing. She stood frozen, trembling, unable to move or even speak.

What had just happened?

How had she been saved from the fall?

The feeling of warmth lingered, a faint, pulsing heat that was both foreign and familiar, as if it had always been inside her, waiting.

Elyndria’s legs wobbled beneath her, and she instinctively reached for the stone railing of the bridge for support, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked down at the icy stones below and felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the weather. She had been moments from death, and yet now she was standing, untouched.

The force, whatever it was, had saved her.

Confused and frightened, Elyndria stumbled back toward the Tower, her legs still weak from the shock.

She didn’t understand what had happened, what had saved her, but she knew one thing: it was something beyond anything she had ever experienced.

Later that evening, after she had returned to the Tower, her world was turned upside down.

The Mistress of Novices, a woman of sharp eyes and unyielding authority, summoned her.

Elyndria was ushered into a small, dimly lit room deep within the Tower, where the air smelled of dust and old books. The Mistress of Novices sat behind a long wooden desk; her face unreadable as she traced a finger along a thick, leather-bound ledger. The book, which held the names of every girl who had ever come through the Tower, was open before her, its pages worn from centuries of use.

Elyndria felt a sudden knot form in her stomach, her breath catching in her throat.

She had been summoned, and she had an idea of why, her mind raced as she tried to come up with an explanation, but none came.

Instead, she stood frozen, waiting.

The Mistress of Novices finally looked up at her, her gaze piercing and calculating. The woman's lips were set in a tight line, and her fingers hovered over the ledger for a moment, almost as if she was deciding whether or not to speak. When she did, her voice was steady, but it carried an authority that Elyndria had always feared.

“You can channel,” the Mistress of Novices said, her words almost a whisper but filled with a weight that sank deep into Elyndria’s bones.

Elyndria’s breath hitched in her throat. “Channel?” she echoed, her voice small, unsure. “How? I… I didn’t mean to—”

The Mistress of Novices raised a hand, cutting her off with a single, sharp motion. “The One Power. The power that lies within all living things. You have touched it, child, and it has touched you.”

Elyndria’s mind raced.

This couldn’t be real, could it?

She had heard the whispers of the One Power from the servants and novices, but she never thought she would be one of them—never thought she would have this.

Her hands trembled as the weight of the Mistress's words sank into her.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to… How can I do this?” Elyndria's voice quivered. She shifted uneasily from foot to foot, her heart pounding in her chest. “I don’t even know what happened—how can I—”

“You will begin training at once,” the Mistress of Novices said, her voice unwavering. “No more running errands. No more hiding in the shadows. Your place here is no longer that of a servant.”

Elyndria’s mouth went dry.

Her mind scrambled, but no coherent thoughts came. She was not ready for this. How could she be?

She had only just realized that the power inside her was real. She wasn’t prepared.

She wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt trapped in her throat. Her thoughts stumbled over each other as she struggled to make sense of it all.

“I… I don’t even know what this means,” she whispered, more to herself than to the Mistress. “What do I do? How can I learn to… to control it?”

The Mistress of Novices regarded her for a long moment, her face unreadable. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, perhaps it was pity or understanding, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came.

“You will learn. The Tower will teach you, Elyndria. You may not understand now, but you will. You will train, because the Tower will shape you into something that can command the One Power.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you will remember this: you are not like the others. You are not one of the many who come to the Tower and are found wanting. You have touched the One Power and it has chosen you.”

The weight of her words pressed down on Elyndria’s shoulders, her chest tight as though the air had thickened, suffocating her.

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to feel. But she knew one thing for sure: her life was changing, and it was changing in ways she couldn’t possibly have imagined.

She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, but she could already feel the pull of something deep inside her; something powerful, and dangerous.

And it terrified her.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

---

 

The following days blurred into each other, one indistinguishable from the next.

Elyndria spent her time trying to grasp the enormity of what had been revealed to her, though the reality of it all still felt distant, like a dream just out of reach.

She had been summoned to the Mistress of Novices again, who told her that her training would begin immediately, but no amount of preparation could have made Elyndria ready for what followed.

She was taken to a small, austere chamber deep within the Tower. The walls were bare, the floor cold stone beneath her bare feet, and the only decoration was a small brazier that warmed the otherwise frigid air. There was nothing soft, nothing comforting here, nothing except the single figure standing at the far end of the room, waiting for her.

It was a woman, tall and unyielding, dressed in the robes of a full Aes Sedai. Her eyes were dark and sharp, her expression one of calm authority that immediately set Elyndria on edge. She was introduced as Saerel, an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah.

The Aes Sedai regarded Elyndria silently for a long moment, her gaze never wavering. "You will begin by learning to feel the Source," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Elyndria shifted uneasily on her feet, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "I... I don’t know what that means," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Saerel’s lips tightened slightly, but she did not express impatience. "No one does, at first. But you must learn to reach for it, feel it within you. It is a part of you, though you may not understand it yet. You have already touched it, but now you must learn to control it."

"Control it?" Elyndria echoed, her throat dry. "How? It—it was just... I didn’t mean to do it before."

The Aes Sedai studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable. "It is not about ‘meaning’ to do it, child. The One Power is not something you can control with thought alone. You must embrace it, yield to it. You must allow it to flow through you, and when you do, you will learn to shape it."

"But how?" Elyndria asked, her voice shaking now, the doubt and fear creeping back into her words. "How do I make it work?"

Saerel was silent for a moment, her gaze never leaving Elyndria. Then she stepped forward, closer than Elyndria had expected, and placed her hands on the young girl’s shoulders, her touch firm but not unkind.

"Trust yourself," Saerel said simply, her voice steady. "The Power will not come unless you let it. Close your eyes. Let everything else fade. Reach inward, deeper than your thoughts or your fears. You will find it."

Elyndria hesitated, staring at the Aes Sedai.

There was a part of her that wanted to argue, to refuse, to say she couldn’t do it, but something in Saerel’s steady, unwavering gaze quieted that voice inside her.

She closed her eyes, feeling her pulse quicken, the weight of expectation pressing down on her.

At first, there was nothing. A quiet, overwhelming emptiness that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

But then…

It was like a flicker of light, soft and distant at first. A warmth, so faint she could almost deny it was there, but it was enough.

Elyndria focused on it, pulled herself toward it, reaching for it as if it were something tangible. And then it came rushing forward, like a river breaking through a dam.

It was power.

It surged through her, flooding her with a heat that burned from within, a dizzying, overwhelming sensation that made her limbs shake and her breath come in gasps.

Her body trembled as it coursed through her, wild and untamed, and for a moment, she thought she might drown in it.

But just as quickly, the power receded. It faded, leaving only the echoes of its presence behind.

Elyndria staggered back, her chest rising and falling in rapid gasps, her hands clutching at her throat as if she had been holding her breath too long.

"You felt it," Saerel’s voice came, cool and calm, cutting through the noise in Elyndria’s head. "That was the Source. You must learn to summon it at will, but more importantly, you must learn to control it, or it will destroy you."

Elyndria’s heart pounded in her chest, her body still trembling from the shock of the experience. Her head spun, and she felt as though the room was tilting around her.

"I don’t know if I can do this," she whispered, more to herself than to the Aes Sedai. "It’s too much. I… I don’t know how to control it."

Saerel’s gaze softened slightly, though the hard edge of her voice did not waver. "No one does at first. That is why you will train. Slowly, carefully. You will fail. You will fall. But you will get up again. And you will learn." She paused, her gaze hardening once more. "The One Power is a dangerous thing, Elyndria. If you are not careful, it will consume you. There is no room for hesitation, no room for doubt. If you want to survive here, you must learn to master it, or it will master you."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their truth.

Elyndria nodded slowly, though the fear inside her gnawed at her insides. She didn’t feel ready for this. She wasn’t ready for any of it.

But as the Aes Sedai turned to leave, Elyndria’s voice caught in her throat, a question she couldn’t hold back anymore.

"How… how do I even begin? How do I know if I’m doing it right?" Elyndria asked, her voice shaking despite herself.

Saerel paused at the door, her back still turned. "You will know," she said quietly, her tone softer than Elyndria had expected. "You will feel it. And when you do, you will know."

The door shut behind her, leaving Elyndria alone in the cold chamber, her mind swirling with fear and uncertainty.

She had felt the power, she had touched it, but now it was as if a wall had gone up inside her, keeping it just out of reach. The words of the Aes Sedai echoed in her mind, trust yourself, but how could she?

How could she trust something so wild, so dangerous?

Her hands shook at her sides as she stood there, alone in the quiet. The Tower was full of whispers, of history, of power—and now, it was her place to learn it all. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to let herself be shaped by the Tower’s hands.

And yet, there was no turning back.

Her training had begun.

Now, she would have to decide whether to embrace it—or be swallowed whole.

---

 

The days that followed were a blur of uncertainty and frustration. Elyndria had never felt so lost.

She had been raised in the shadows of the Tower, away from the intricacies of its politics and the knowledge of the One Power. And now, she was being thrust into a world that seemed so foreign, so dangerous.

The weight of it pressed heavily on her chest, threatening to crush her at every turn.

Her first few lessons were grueling.

Saerel had not been wrong when she said that Elyndria would fail.

And fail, she did.

Over and over.

Every morning, she was led into that cold, sterile chamber. The walls, the stone floor, the silence; it was as if the Tower itself was watching her every move, judging her. And no matter how many times she tried, the Source remained just beyond her grasp.

Each time she reached for it, there was nothing but a hollow emptiness, a coldness that mocked her efforts.

When she could feel it, the brief, fleeting warmth, it was always gone before she could hold onto it, like trying to capture smoke with her bare hands.

It left her feeling dizzy, disoriented, as if she were on the verge of something great, but never quite able to touch it.

"You must focus," Saerel would say, her tone never shifting. "The Power does not respond to hesitation. The more you falter, the farther away it will become. Your fear is what keeps you from it."

Elyndria couldn’t help the way her body tensed each time she stood before the Aes Sedai. She had been trained to serve, to stay in the background, to remain unseen. Never had she been expected to command anything, let alone something so incomprehensible, so dangerous.

Every time she closed her eyes and tried to reach for the Source, a voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to stop, to not dare. It was as if her own instincts were working against her.

One evening, after another failed attempt, Elyndria stood in the middle of the cold room, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving.

The air was thick, and her heart pounded in her ears.

Saerel’s steady gaze was unwavering, though Elyndria could see a hint of something like frustration behind the Aes Sedai’s composed expression.

"I don’t understand," Elyndria said quietly, her voice rough from exhaustion. "Why can’t I do it?"

Saerel’s lips pressed together. "Because you’re afraid," she said, her voice more pointed than before. "Fear clouds the mind, blocks the connection between you and the Source. You are too wrapped in your doubt. You must release it. If you cannot trust yourself, you will never be able to control the One Power."

"I don’t know how," Elyndria replied, her voice cracking slightly. "I’ve never... I’ve never had to trust myself like this. I don’t know how to make the power listen to me."

For a moment, there was a flicker in Saerel’s eyes, almost like pity, but it vanished quickly. The Aes Sedai took a step closer, her voice soft but firm.

"You will learn. That is why you are here. You are capable, Elyndria. You simply must find the strength within yourself to believe it."

Elyndria wanted to scream in frustration, to argue with the woman who was clearly trying to push her, but she swallowed her words.

Instead, she bit her lip, trying to steady her breath, to summon the same determination that had kept her alive all these years in the Tower.

But it wasn’t enough.

The Source remained distant, like a shadow slipping through her fingers.

That night, as she lay in her small cot, the weight of the day pressed heavily on her.

She had failed again. Every day, she was reminded that she was not like the others—she was not the natural channeler, the one who instinctively reached for the Source.

Elyndria was... different.

And that difference felt like a curse.

She turned over in bed, staring at the stone ceiling above her. The silence of the Tower surrounded her, heavy and oppressive.

She thought of the servants, the women who had raised her in those first years, their quiet comfort in the shadows. They had always understood her in a way that the Aes Sedai never would.

But they were gone now.

She was alone in this, with no one to turn to, no one to help her. If she couldn’t learn to control the One Power, she would have no place in the Tower. They would cast her out, like so many before her.

And what would become of her then?

What would become of someone who couldn’t channel, someone who didn’t belong?

The thought gnawed at her, but she forced herself to push it aside. She couldn’t afford to give in to the fear.

Not now.

The next morning, she was back in the chamber, facing Saerel once more.

This time, Elyndria stood a little straighter, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she prepared herself for another attempt.

"Are you ready?" Saerel asked, her tone distant, like she had already expected another failure.

Elyndria didn’t answer right away.

She closed her eyes, her mind filled with the image of the icy bridge, the moment when she had felt the power—the warmth—that had saved her. It had been there. She had felt it.

And yet, each time she reached for it, it slipped away.

She reached inward, deeper than before, searching for the familiar warmth, the force that had stopped her fall.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she focused, trying to clear her mind of the doubt that had clouded it for days.

Focus, Elyndria. Focus.

It wasn’t much, but there—there it was again.

A spark.

A flicker of warmth, faint but undeniable.

She reached for it with everything she had, ignoring the fear that clawed at her, ignoring the uncertainty.

It flared brighter this time, a golden heat, flooding her body in a rush that made her head spin.

Elyndria’s fingers twitched at her sides, her whole-body trembling under the intensity of it. It felt as though her very skin was alive with it.

But then the warmth began to fade, pulling back into the depths where it had come from.

"No!" Elyndria gasped, her voice breaking. She had felt it. She had almost grasped it. But it was gone, leaving her cold and empty once more.

Saerel watched her silently, her eyes unreadable. She said nothing at first, but Elyndria could feel the weight of her gaze, the expectations pressing on her.

"Again," Saerel said, her voice sharp.

Elyndria’s shoulders slumped, but she didn’t resist.

There was no choice, no way out.

She had to keep trying, even if it felt as though she would break under the strain.

There was only one way forward.

And so, she closed her eyes once more, her hands trembling, her mind racing, and she reached inward again.

This time, she would not give up. She couldn’t.

---

The days blurred together in a haze of frustration. Each morning, Elyndria stood in the same chamber, facing the same walls, and each day, she failed to command the One Power.

Her fingers trembled at her sides, her mind felt heavy, and her chest was tight with the pressure of it all.

There were moments; brief, fleeting moments, where she felt it.

The warmth, the spark, the presence of the One Power, just out of reach, like a distant memory.

But it was never enough.

Saerel's eyes were always sharp, always measuring. Every failure was met with silence, and the silence was the loudest part of it all.

Elyndria could feel the weight of the Mistress of Novices' expectations, the unspoken disappointment that followed her every misstep.

And the more she tried, the more she felt as though she were sinking into quicksand, each failed attempt pulling her deeper into a place she didn’t know how to escape.

But despite the pressure, despite the doubts, something inside her refused to break.

It was a small thing. Just a flicker of stubbornness, but it was there. Elyndria was determined. She might not understand the One Power. She might not be able to control it yet, but she would not let it defeat her.

"Again," Saerel would say, every time. Her voice was steady, but it held an edge, an impatience that Elyndria couldn’t ignore.

And so, Elyndria tried again.

One afternoon, after a particularly long lesson, she sat in the cold stone chamber, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

She was exhausted, mentally and physically, but she couldn’t stop herself from reflecting on the one thing that had kept her from giving up. The moment on the bridge.

The warmth, the force that had caught her before she had fallen.

It had been real, hadn’t it?

It had to be.

Her fingers brushed the stone floor as she breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind of the pressure that weighed on her chest.

The shadows of the Tower seemed to close in around her, a familiar, comforting presence. She had been raised in this place, among its cold walls and heavy silence. The Tower had never given her warmth, but it had given her strength in ways she hadn't fully understood. And now, it seemed the Tower was asking her to find that same strength within herself, to call upon something greater than what she had ever known.

A flicker of hope sparked in her chest.

What if I stopped trying to control it?

What if I just... let go?

The thought surprised her.

She had spent so much time trying to force the One Power, to shape it with her own will, but what if the key wasn’t in controlling it, but in surrendering to it?

Elyndria closed her eyes, taking a slow, steady breath.

She pictured the bridge again—the cold stone, the empty space between her and the jagged rocks below—and she tried to remember the warmth that had surrounded her.

It had felt like a protective embrace, not something she had forced, but something that had found her.

What if she didn’t need to chase it?

She reached inward, not with a command, but with the quiet expectation that the One Power would come to her. She focused on her breath, on the steady rhythm of her heart, on the feel of the stone beneath her hands. She imagined herself opening, as though she were a door, letting the warmth come to her naturally, without resistance.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, just as the silence seemed unbearable, she felt it—a thread of warmth, faint at first, but unmistakable. It was there.

It was real.

It was as if the world around her had shifted, if only by the slightest degree, and the One Power was waiting for her to acknowledge it.

Her heart raced. She reached for it again, but this time, she didn't force it.

She didn’t try to control it. She simply... allowed it to flow through her, a soft, gentle wave of heat that warmed her from the inside out.

The warmth flared, like a candle catching the wind, spreading outward in a delicate pulse.

Elyndria gasped, her fingers tingling, her body vibrating with the power. It was there. She was holding it. She could feel it coursing through her veins, its heat filling the room around her.

But it wasn’t steady. It was fleeting, like the briefest kiss of warmth on a cold winter’s day.

The power slipped through her fingers again, dissipating before she could anchor herself to it.

"No!" she cried out, her voice a mixture of frustration and exhilaration. She had felt it. For a moment, she had felt it—more than she ever had before.

Saerel, who had been standing by the door, watching her with a keen, measuring gaze, stepped forward.

Elyndria had been to focused on trying reach the One Power had not realised that Saerel had opened the door to her room.

"You’ve touched it," the Aes Sedai said quietly, her voice laced with a rare warmth. "It is there, Elyndria. You just need to learn to hold it."

Elyndria’s breath was coming in shallow gasps, but the words sunk into her like a balm.

She touched it. For the first time, it wasn’t just a faint spark or a fleeting moment. She had reached out and held the One Power, even if only for a second.

"But how?" Elyndria asked, her voice shaky. "How do I make it stay? How do I hold it?"

Saerel’s eyes softened for a moment, the steel in her expression giving way to something more understanding. "It takes time, child. Time and patience. The One Power is not something to be rushed. It is as much a part of you as your own breath. The more you fight it, the more it will slip away. But if you learn to surrender to it, it will be yours to command."

Elyndria nodded slowly, her mind still reeling. She had felt it. That was the most important part.

It wasn’t a failure. It was a beginning.

"Then... I will try again," she said, her voice more determined than it had been before.

She wasn’t sure how she would succeed, or how long it would take. But she would not stop.

Not now.

Saerel gave a curt nod. "You will. And I will be here to guide you."

Elyndria stood up, her legs a little unsteady, but there was a fire inside her now—a small, but undeniable fire. She had felt the One Power, and now, she would learn how to make it hers.

As the door to the chamber closed behind her, Elyndria took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the Tower around her. She was no longer just a servant in the shadows of the White Tower.

She was something more.

She was learning to wield the One Power. And for the first time since she had arrived, she allowed herself to believe that she might, one day, master it.

---

 

The weeks passed slowly, each day stretching endlessly before Elyndria, yet her world had irrevocably changed.

Each morning, she returned to the same stone chamber, to the same quiet rituals of learning, but now there was a flicker of hope in her chest. A spark that refused to die, no matter how often the One Power slipped through her fingers.

The mornings were always cold.

The Tower’s stone walls seemed to hold the chill of the world outside, and the halls echoed with the soft murmur of novices and servants. But Elyndria had grown accustomed to the cold.

It was the silence that weighed on her, a silence filled with expectation, with the looming presence of the Mistress of Novices who had promised that Saerel would “shape her.” Elyndria hadn’t known how to respond to that.

Shape me into what?

"Focus," Saerel’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and steady as it always was.

Elyndria had learned quickly that this was how Saerel communicated; no flowery words or gentle encouragements, just cold, unwavering commands. "You must learn to center yourself. If you cannot focus, you will lose control."

Elyndria’s fingers trembled at her sides as she closed her eyes, trying to quiet the swirl of thoughts in her mind.

The tension in the room seemed to press down on her, a weight she could almost feel.

She could hear the sound of her own breathing, shallow and quick. She needed to focus. She needed to find the warmth again, the power that had touched her so briefly on the bridge.

Her mind wandered, as it so often did, to the uncertainty she felt about the One Power. She still didn't fully understand it.

She had learned bits and pieces from Saerel, from her brief moments of success and failure, but each time the power slipped away from her, it reminded her of just how far she was from mastering it. And the more she tried, the more elusive it became.

Maybe I'm not meant for this, the thought crossed her mind, though she pushed it away as quickly as it came.

The words felt too final, too easy. She couldn’t let herself fall into that. 

"Focus, Elyndria," Saerel’s voice was like a blade cutting through her thoughts, drawing her back to the present. "You must find the One Power within yourself, or it will slip from your grasp again."

Elyndria clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to still her shaking hands.

The warmth. The one power was there just beneath the surface, like a slumbering beast waiting to awaken. But it was never as simple as just reaching for it.

She took a deep breath and tried again.

Her mind cleared slightly, and she reached inward, not with force, but with a steady, open mind. She thought of the way the warmth had felt on the bridge, how it had wrapped around her so gently, almost lovingly. She tried to recreate that feeling, to allow the One Power to come to her, instead of trying to make it obey her commands.

And there it was.

The faintest whisper of heat, like the lightest touch of a hand against her skin.

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat, and she drew the power closer to herself. It was warmer this time, steadier, though still fragile, as if it might slip away at any moment.

Her breath caught in her chest as she slowly extended her hand before her, imagining the power swirling around her palm like a small flame, flickering, but real.

Her fingers trembled with the strain, but the warmth stayed, growing just a little stronger with each passing moment.

Elyndria’s breath quickened, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the power moving beneath her skin, as though it were part of her—alive, but elusive. She held it, this time, with care, with quiet understanding.

It didn’t push back at her, didn’t fight her—it merely was.

She dared to open her eyes, and before her, she could see it. A faint wisp of air, a shimmer of light surrounding her hand.

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t perfect. But it was enough.

For the first time, Elyndria had summoned the One Power not through brute force, but with patience and a steady hand.

"I did it," she whispered, though she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it herself.

She had been so focused on the flickering warmth, the slight spark that had danced beneath her fingers, that she had almost forgotten where she was.

Saerel stepped closer, her sharp eyes narrowing as she observed Elyndria’s trembling hand. There was a flicker of something in the instructor's gaze—something like approval, though it was fleeting.

“It’s a start,” Saerel said simply. “But it’s not enough.”

Elyndria’s heart sank slightly at the words, but she forced herself to keep her gaze steady.

It’s not enough. It never was. It never would be.

"You’ll need more than this to be truly capable of controlling the One Power," Saerel continued, her voice unwavering. "This is only the beginning, child. You will have to push yourself further, learn to call on it when it doesn’t want to come. It will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine."

Elyndria nodded, though the words felt like a heavy weight on her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready.

“I won’t give up,” Elyndria said, her voice trembling, but determined.

Saerel’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly.

She gave a curt nod. “You had better not. You’ve touched the One Power, and that means you belong here, in the Tower. You will train, Elyndria. You will learn, or you will fail. There is no other path.”

The words echoed in Elyndria’s mind long after Saerel had left her alone in the room, standing amidst the cold, ancient stone.

The power still hummed beneath her skin, faint but persistent. Elyndria took a deep breath and closed her eyes once more, forcing herself to focus.

She wasn’t sure what the future held, but she knew this much: The One Power would not be tamed easily.

But neither would she.

The Tower had accepted her. Now, she would prove that she was worthy of its teachings. 

---

 

Elyndria’s lessons in the White Tower continued to be a whirlwind of progress and frustration. With each passing day, the flicker of the One Power seemed to grow stronger, but her ability to command it remained stubbornly elusive.

The more she tried, the more the power slipped through her fingers, leaving her drained and disappointed.

Her instructor, Saerel, had not made things any easier. The woman was stern, demanding, and showed little patience for anyone who didn’t immediately grasp the subtleties of the One Power.

Elyndria had initially wondered why the Mistress of Novices, Sheriam, had assigned Saerel to her. The woman’s reputation among the novices was one of extreme discipline and unforgiving rigor. 

It was only after a few weeks of grueling training that Elyndria understood Sheriam’s decision.

One evening, exhausted from yet another unsuccessful attempt at wielding the One Power, Elyndria had asked Sheriam directly.

"Why her?" Elyndria had asked, her voice hesitant but filled with genuine curiosity. "Why did you give me to Saerel?"

Sheriam had turned her sharp gaze on her, as if considering her question with the weight of centuries of wisdom. For a long moment, the Mistress of Novices remained silent, her expression unreadable.

Finally, she spoke. "Saerel is one of our most skilled instructors," Sheriam said, her voice steady but lacking any sign of warmth. "She demands the best from her students because she believes you are capable of it. You will not be coddled here, Elyndria. In the Tower, there is no room for softness. You will face challenges, hardships, and failures. But if you can survive Saerel’s training, if you can rise to meet the standards she sets, then you will be stronger for it."

Elyndria felt the weight of Sheriam’s words settle on her shoulders. "But I’m struggling. I don’t—" she stopped herself, unsure how to express the doubt that weighed on her chest.

Sheriam's gaze softened, just for a moment.

"The Tower does not care for the weak, Elyndria. You must rise above your struggles. The One Power will not simply bend to your will because you ask it nicely. It is not a simple thing to command, and it never will be." She paused, eyes narrowing. "Saerel sees something in you. She will not let you fail. Not because she is kind, but because she will push you until you can no longer stand, and then she will demand that you rise again."

The words stung, but Elyndria could not argue with them.

She had already felt the sharp edge of Saerel’s lessons. Every time she stumbled, every time the One Power eluded her grasp, the instructor pushed her harder. It was a test, and one that Elyndria knew would shape her future in ways she couldn’t yet understand.

Training under Saerel was grueling.

There were no moments of reprieve, no kind encouragement when Elyndria faltered. The lessons were brutal and unforgiving. The One Power had been an enigma to her from the beginning, a force that teased at the edges of her perception but never fully yielded to her.

"You will not give up," Saerel’s voice rang through her ears after yet another failure. "You will try again. And again. Until it becomes second nature."

The repetition, the endless trials, wore Elyndria down. There were days when she felt as though the power would never respond, that she would always be grasping at nothing.

But Saerel's words rang in her head, pushing her to continue.

When Elyndria succeeded even if only for a brief moment Saerel offered no praise, but there was a flicker of something in her cold eyes. It was approval, perhaps, or the faintest acknowledgment that Elyndria had done something right.

That was all Elyndria needed to keep going.

The silence from her instructor was worse than any rebuke.

It wasn’t until much later that Elyndria realized that Sheriam’s choice of Saerel as her instructor had been an act of calculated understanding.

Sheriam knew that Elyndria needed to be pushed beyond her limits. She needed to understand the weight of the One Power’s demands not just in terms of control, but in terms of endurance, will, and resilience.

The Tower would shape her, yes, but it would also break her if she wasn’t strong enough to withstand it.

As Elyndria’s training intensified, she spent more time in the Tower’s halls than ever before.

The servants, once a comfort in the quiet shadows of her youth, now seemed like distant figures in her life.

She still passed them in the corridors. Those who had cared for her when she was small, who had whispered softly in her ears and fed her when she was hungry. They had always been there, the unspoken foundation of the Tower’s great work, but now Elyndria felt the distance between them growing wider.

Sometimes, when she walked the halls, her eyes would catch the familiar faces of the servants, but there was an unspoken barrier that had begun to rise between them. They were still kind, still offering her smiles or brief words of encouragement when they could, but Elyndria knew they saw the change in her as well.

The girl who had once been so wrapped in their comfort was now someone else.

She was no longer one of them.

Yet there were moments, brief and fleeting, when she felt a tug at her heart as she passed them by. The softness in their eyes reminded her of a time when she had felt safe, when the Tower had been less a prison and more a home, however cold and silent. The memories of their kindness, their quiet laughter, would always stay with her, even if she could no longer share in those moments.

She often caught herself longing for that simple comfort. Before the harsh lessons, before the weight of responsibility and the constant struggle with the One Power.

But she quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

She had no time for them now. The Tower, with all its shadows and its unyielding demands, had shaped her into someone new. Someone who was learning to bend the One Power to her will, even as the challenge seemed insurmountable.

One night, after a particularly brutal training session with Saerel, Elyndria found herself alone in a quiet corner of the Tower’s kitchens.

The smell of baking bread, something she hadn’t thought of in ages, filled the air. For a moment, she let the warmth of the hearth wash over her, a small comfort in the midst of her exhaustion. It reminded her of the servants, of the moments she had spent with them, wrapped in their quiet, loving care.

But as the warmth from the fire spread through her body, a quiet realization settled in. She wasn’t the same girl anymore. The Tower had already begun its work on her, and soon, there would be no room for the girl who had once been a servant’s charge.

Yet, as she lingered by the hearth, she whispered to herself, "I haven’t forgotten you."

And perhaps that was enough, for now.

Chapter 2: Unbroken Resolve

Days in the Tower bled into one another, each marked by the same exhausting grind of lessons, practice, and failure.

Elyndria’s connection to the One Power remained tenuous, as though it were a distant shore she could almost reach but never fully touch.

The coldness in her chest, where the power should have blossomed, was constant. A reminder of her inadequacies.

Saerel’s lessons had become even more demanding. Each time Elyndria struggled or faltered, Saerel’s cold eyes narrowed, and her patience grew thinner. The instructor did not encourage or console; she only pushed.

"You must control it, Elyndria," she would say, her voice biting. "The One Power will break you if you let it, and if you let it, you will fail. Do you understand?"

Elyndria would nod, even as doubt gnawed at her insides.

Could she really control it?

Could she ever bend the One Power to her will?

She had tried, over and over again, but each failure left her feeling smaller, more insignificant. She often asked herself why Sheriam had chosen Saerel to instruct her, someone so unwilling to show even a flicker of patience.

But then, in the silence that followed her self-doubt, Elyndria realized something important: Saerel was forcing her to confront her weaknesses head-on, whether she was ready for it or not.

One day, after another fruitless attempt to channel the power, Elyndria collapsed onto the cold stone floor, her arms trembling from the effort.

Saerel was standing over her, her figure towering like a shadow, watching silently.

Elyndria’s voice came out in a strained whisper. "I can’t do it, Saerel. It won’t listen. The power… it won’t listen to me."

For a long moment, there was only silence.

Elyndria’s heart pounded, the desperation in her words lingering in the air.

Finally, Saerel spoke, her tone low and unreadable. "It’s not about the One Power listening to you, Elyndria. It’s about you listening to it. You think it’s a force you can control, that you can bend to your will like some lesser tool." Her voice was sharp, but there was something more beneath it—a flicker of understanding. "The One Power is not something to always be controled. It is a part of you, and you must become part of it. Only then will you learn to use it."

Elyndria looked up, her breath catching in her chest. She had never heard Saerel speak like this before.

The instructor’s eyes softened ever so slightly, but her expression was still stern, her features set in a mask of discipline. "You will try again. And again. Until you understand that control is not the goal. Mastery comes from surrender, not domination."

Surrender.

The word echoed in Elyndria’s mind long after Saerel had left her.

Could she truly surrender to the One Power?

Was it possible to allow herself to become one with it, instead of fighting against it?

Her mind spun with the thought, her doubts rising once again.

That night, after a meager dinner in the quiet kitchens of the Tower, Elyndria found herself lost in thought, the faint sounds of distant voices echoing through the stone halls.

She had once spent hours with the servants in this very place, talking softly and listening to their stories, their laughter. She could almost hear their voices now, offering her warmth, offering comfort but those days felt far away, as though they belonged to someone else.

As she moved through the kitchen, her steps slow and hesitant, Elyndria caught sight of one of the older servants. A woman with silvering hair and gentle eyes who had watched over her when she was small. The servant smiled faintly at her, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes, and Elyndria saw the quiet sadness in the woman’s gaze.

The sight made Elyndria’s chest tighten.

Had she changed so much?

The girl who had once been a part of their world, laughing and sharing their simple moments, was no more. She had become something else—a novice, a trainee, a would-be Aes Sedai.

The distance between them had grown too wide.

The servant’s soft voice broke the silence. "You’ve been working hard, haven’t you, child?"

Elyndria nodded slowly, though she didn’t trust her own voice. "Yes," she said, her throat tight. "The lessons are... difficult."

The servant’s gaze softened, and she reached out, briefly touching Elyndria’s arm. "Don’t forget who you are, Elyndria. The Tower will shape you, yes, but it will also try to strip you of everything else. Remember where you came from. Remember those who cared for you."

Elyndria swallowed, her heart heavy.

She wanted to say something, wanted to hold onto that familiar comfort the servant offered, but the words stuck in her throat.

She wasn’t sure if she even remembered who she was anymore. All she knew was the Tower’s endless demands, the relentless training, and the One Power that felt more like a burden than a gift.

As she turned to leave, she glanced back at the servant, meeting her eyes one last time. The woman’s smile had returned, but it was wistful, as if she, too, knew that Elyndria was changing, and there was no going back.

The next morning, Elyndria returned to her training with Saerel, her body tired from the lack of rest and her mind heavy with the weight of her thoughts.

Saerel, as usual, wasted no time in pushing her to her limits, demanding more, expecting more.

Elyndria’s exhaustion deepened as she failed again and again, the power slipping through her fingers like sand.

Her hands were shaking by the end of the session, and she collapsed on the floor, her heart heavy with the weight of her frustration.

Saerel looked down at her without a word, as if waiting for something, but Elyndria couldn’t summon the strength to rise.

For the first time in days, she spoke, her voice cracking. "I don’t know if I can do this anymore. The power—it’s too much. I’m not like the others. I don’t… I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough."

Saerel’s gaze softened just a fraction, but her expression remained firm. "You are right," she said quietly. "You are not like the others. But that does not mean you are any less capable. It means you must work harder, longer, and with more purpose. The Tower does not care for those who wish to take the easy path, Elyndria. It will break you, yes, but only to rebuild you into something stronger."

Elyndria looked up at her instructor, her face filled with both fear and determination. "Then I’ll keep trying. Even if I don’t understand it. Even if it breaks me, I’ll try."

Saerel nodded, and for the briefest moment, there was a flicker of approval in her eyes. "That’s all I ask."

---

The days grew colder, and the Tower's walls seemed to grow ever more oppressive, as though they were pressing in on Elyndria, enclosing her in a world of stone, expectation, and power.

Her training with Saerel had become a relentless series of grueling sessions, each one more taxing than the last.

She could feel the power, like a thin thread, always just out of reach. It was there, pulsing faintly within her, but it slipped away when she tried to grasp it. It refused to be bent, refused to be commanded.

She had begun to wonder if it was even worth trying.

One evening, after another failed attempt at channeling, Elyndria wandered the Tower's halls, her heart heavy with frustration.

She had not seen the servants in days. The comforting presence of those who had once tended to her was like a distant memory, fading with each passing day.

It wasn’t that she had stopped caring for them, but the world of the Tower was consuming her. It’s  demands, its rules, its relentless pressure to grow stronger, faster, to master the One Power.

She passed the kitchen, the familiar scent of bread and stew wafting out, and her steps slowed. The warmth of the hearth called to her, the thought of sitting with the servants, hearing their soft voices, and feeling that fleeting sense of belonging.

But she shook her head, as though dismissing her own longing. She couldn't go back. Not yet.

She wasn’t the same person she had been when she first arrived at the Tower, when her life had been simpler, when the servants’ quiet presence had been enough to fill the emptiness inside her.

Elyndria’s gaze flicked to the long corridor that led deeper into the Tower, where the novices’ rooms lay. There was no turning back, not now. She had already committed herself to this life, this training. And she had come too far to fall back into the shadows, where the servants and the kitchen fires existed as mere memories.

The Mistress of Novices, Sheriam, had been keeping a close watch on Elyndria, noting her progress or lack thereof. Her icy blue eyes seemed to see straight through Elyndria whenever they met. Elyndria knew that Sheriam had high expectations of her, but the pressure was only making her feel smaller, more insignificant. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t seem to master the One Power.

Elyndria’s frustration built, and one day, when Saerel once again told her to try something impossible, Elyndria felt something inside her snap.

The power that had been so elusive seemed to rise within her, like a storm ready to break. She focused with everything she had, willing it to come to her, willing herself to feel the channeling, to command it.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Elyndria felt it—a wave of heat that coursed through her veins, a crackling energy that filled her limbs.

She gasped, her eyes wide, as she felt the power thrumming through her, but just as quickly as it had come, it vanished, leaving her empty once again.

Her hands trembled, the familiar frustration rising once more. She stood there, unable to speak, staring at Saerel, who watched her with that ever-present, inscrutable expression.

“You felt it,” Saerel said softly, almost as though to herself. “But you cannot control it, not yet.”

Elyndria clenched her fists, fighting the urge to collapse. “Why won’t it come? Why can’t I control it like the others?”

“You are not like the others,” Saerel said, her voice steady. “You cannot rush this. It will take time, and you must learn to accept that. But you are strong, Elyndria. You will break before it does, if you do not change your approach.”

Elyndria stared at her, the words sinking in, and for a moment, she didn’t know whether to feel reassured or more defeated. "I don't know how much longer I can do this," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I feel like I’m losing myself."

Saerel’s eyes softened, just slightly. "It’s a part of the process. The Tower will take you, shape you, mold you into something new. But you will not lose yourself in the process, unless you let it."

The words didn’t fully comfort Elyndria, but there was something in the way Saerel spoke them, a quiet certainty that Elyndria couldn’t ignore.

It was the first time in weeks that someone had spoken to her like this, as if she could still hold onto the parts of herself that were not tied to the One Power or the Tower’s expectations. Perhaps Saerel understood the battle inside her better than she had realized.

That night, Elyndria sat alone in her small room, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls.

Her thoughts wandered to the servants, the ones who had cared for her when she was a child, who had shared stories and laughter, who had taught her simple things, like how to smile in the face of hardship.

She missed them.

She missed the simplicity of their world; their kindness, their warmth. Here in the Tower, she was no longer one of them.

The distance between herself and the life she once knew was growing with each passing day, each training session that stripped away another part of who she had been. She couldn’t go back to the way things were. But sometimes, when the weight of her powerless moments grew too heavy, she longed for that old comfort, that old sense of belonging.

Elyndria lay in bed, her thoughts turning inward.

The flickering flame cast a warm glow on the stone walls, but the warmth didn’t reach her heart. She couldn’t help but feel that, with every day that passed, the person she had once been was slipping further away. She had been so young when they found her, so full of innocence and trust.

But now?

Now she was just another novice in the Tower, one of many who had been chosen, yet who often wondered if they were worthy of that choice.

As she closed her eyes, her mind replayed the faces of the servants she had once known, faces filled with quiet kindness and understanding. They had been her family, in their own way. But now, even their memory seemed to be fading, becoming more distant with every step she took further into the Tower’s world.

The next morning, Saerel’s lessons were as harsh as ever, the weight of Elyndria’s failures still hanging over her.

But despite the strain, despite the growing doubt inside her, Elyndria couldn’t help but think of those old memories—the warmth of the servants, the gentle voices that had once filled her world.

She would carry those moments with her, even as the Tower tried to shape her into something else entirely.

---

 

Days bled into weeks, and Elyndria’s frustration with her inability to control the One Power only deepened. The lessons with Saerel were relentless, pushing her to the brink of exhaustion.

But despite all her efforts, Elyndria found herself teetering on the edge of something she couldn’t quite reach, like a bird trapped inside a cage, its wings brushing against the bars but never able to escape.

The Tower’s halls were filled with the whispers of power, the hum of the One Power that seemed to pulse through every stone.

But for Elyndria, the power remained elusive. She had felt its warmth when she had been saved on that icy bridge, but now, each time she tried to call upon it, it slipped away, a fleeting shadow that she could never quite catch.

Her training sessions with Saerel were grueling. The woman’s sharp, calculating eyes never left her, as if she could see every misstep before it even happened. The Aes Sedai instructor would demonstrate a simple weave, the air swirling around her fingers, the light bending in strange and beautiful ways.

Elyndria would try to mimic her, but every attempt fell apart. The threads of the Power refused to come together, and all she felt was a flicker of warmth followed by empty air.

“Again,” Saerel would say in that cold, emotionless tone, her eyes narrowing as Elyndria struggled.

And so, Elyndria would try again.

One afternoon, after yet another failed attempt to create a simple shield, Elyndria found herself standing alone in the training yard.

Her hands trembled at her sides as she stared at the stone courtyard before her.

The weather had grown milder with the passing weeks, but the weight of her frustration had only grown heavier. She could feel the oppressive silence of the Tower bearing down on her, suffocating her every time she tried to breathe.

She closed her eyes, blocking out the world, focusing inward.

She could feel it again, that faint stirring of warmth deep within her, like a small ember that threatened to burn bright. Elyndria breathed deeply, trying to concentrate, to make the flame grow.

She had to let go of her fear, of the doubt that clung to her like a shadow.

Saerel had told her, time and again, that fear was the greatest enemy of a channeler.

But how could she let go of something that had been a constant companion for so long?

Fear of failure.

Fear of disappointing the Mistress of Novices.

Fear of being nothing more than a failure in the eyes of the Aes Sedai.

“Come on,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaky but determined. “You can do this.”

Slowly, she reached deep within, calling upon that tiny spark of warmth. Her breath quickened as she felt it stir again, the warmth spreading outward, curling around her like a familiar touch. But this time, Elyndria didn’t try to force it She didn’t try to make it do something.

Instead, she allowed it to come naturally, as if she were coaxing a frightened animal from its hiding place.

The warmth flared suddenly, like a flame leaping to life.

Elyndria gasped as she felt it course through her, stronger this time, more real. The air around her seemed to hum with energy.

Her hands clenched into fists, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she could feel the threads of the One Power, delicate but strong, just within her grasp.

Her heart raced as she stretched out her fingers, willing the Power to respond. The world around her seemed to bend, the very air shimmering as she tried to weave the energy into something tangible.

But it wasn’t enough. The Power, so close, slipped away, leaving her empty once more.

She staggered back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. But she hadn’t failed this time. No, not entirely. She had felt it. For a brief moment, she had touched it, had grasped it, and that gave her hope.

She stood there for a moment, lost in the silence, feeling the aftershocks of the moment course through her. The emptiness had returned, but now it was different. She wasn’t completely without the Power. She had touched it.

And she would touch it again.

The next day, Elyndria found herself standing before Saerel once again. The instructor’s sharp eyes studied her, noting the subtle changes in her demeanor.

Elyndria felt a flicker of unease. She had not yet perfected her control, but she knew that the smallest bit of progress would be enough to make Saerel notice.

“I have felt something,” Elyndria began hesitantly, not looking the other woman in the eye. “I… I felt the Power again. For just a moment.”

Saerel’s gaze remained fixed on her, her expression unreadable. “What kind of moment?” she asked, her voice cool, almost dismissive.

Elyndria swallowed, gathering her courage. “It was a brief flare. A spark, maybe. But it was real.”

Saerel’s lips tightened slightly, and for a moment, Elyndria thought the woman would dismiss her entirely.

But then, with a slow nod, Saerel spoke again. “That is progress, but only the first step. You must learn to summon it at will, to shape it without fear, to make it do what you command. Until you can do that, you are still far from mastering it.”

Elyndria’s heart sank, but she nodded.

She knew that Saerel’s words were true. She couldn’t afford to be complacent. Not when so much was at stake.

“You will practice again tomorrow,” Saerel continued. “The smallest slip can undo weeks of progress. Be ready.”

As the instructor turned and walked away, Elyndria stood there, feeling a strange mix of hope and dread swirling in her chest.

She had made a breakthrough, yes, but she could feel the weight of the Tower pressing down on her, as though it were watching her every move, waiting for her to falter.

Later that day, as Elyndria returned to her small room, she reflected on what Saerel had said.

The smallest slip.

She could feel the weight of those words, their haunting finality. But she had also felt the warmth again—the Power. She wasn’t going to let it slip away from her this time.

She could no longer afford to be the girl who hesitated, the girl who faltered in the face of fear. Elyndria had seen the possibilities, had touched something far greater than she had ever dreamed.

And now, there was no turning back.

---

With each passing day, Elyndria found herself both closer to her goal and further from the life she had once known. Saerel’s lessons were demanding, pushing her far beyond her limits, forcing her to face the rawness of her fear and uncertainty.

Though Elyndria had touched the Power before, it felt as though she were standing at the edge of an abyss, unable to cross into the full mastery of it.

There were moments when it felt impossible, when the threads of the One Power slipped through her fingers like smoke. There were other times, like today, when the heat in her chest pulsed stronger than before, and she thought for a brief moment she had it under control, only for everything to fall apart once again.

The courtyard where she practiced had become a place of both hope and despair.

The open sky above her, the stone beneath her feet; these were the things she would focus on when trying to center herself, trying to reach for the Power within. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she willed the Power to respond, it always seemed to slip away at the last moment.

Today, Saerel had given her another task. One that made Elyndria's stomach twist in knots just thinking about it. She had been told to create a simple shield, a weave to defend herself from an imaginary attack.

"Focus," Saerel's voice had cut through the air, as sharp as a blade. "Your thoughts are disjointed. If you cannot control your mind, you will never control the Power. You cannot afford distractions."

Elyndria had tried to follow the instructor’s words, tried to keep her mind still, but the memories of failure crowded her thoughts.

She had seen the others, other novices and accepted, seemingly mastering their weaves with ease.

Why was she so slow?

Why did the Power slip from her touch, like sand through her fingers?

She stood in the courtyard, sweat beading on her forehead, her hands trembling with the effort of concentration.

The wind blew gently around her, the chill of the morning air making her senses sharp. Beneath her feet, the stones felt cold, unyielding, and yet somehow, the very earth beneath her seemed to echo with a deep, ancient power, as if it were calling to her.

With a deep breath, Elyndria let go of her fear, letting her mind settle into the stillness she had longed for. The warmth in her chest flickered again, but this time, instead of grasping it desperately, she allowed it to come to her, like a long-lost friend.

The shield began to form, slowly at first, hesitant and weak.

She could feel the weave, delicate and fragile, forming in her mind. But the Power was there, this time more cooperative, as though it sensed her determination. She concentrated, drawing the invisible threads of the Power together in her mind’s eye.

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to fall into place. The shield solidified, its presence warm and secure, wrapping around her like a protective embrace.

Elyndria opened her eyes, surprised to find the weave in place, holding strong. She could feel its energy surrounding her, guarding her against all threats, real or imagined.

“Very good,” Saerel’s voice came, and Elyndria’s heart skipped. She hadn’t realized the instructor had been watching.

For the first time, there was a flicker of something different in Saerel’s eyes. Perhaps approval, perhaps just acknowledgment but it made Elyndria’s heart lift nonetheless.

She hadn’t failed. Not this time.

“Now, release it,” Saerel instructed, her voice steady but not without the faintest edge of anticipation.

Elyndria nodded, forcing herself to focus once again.

The shield had felt real, but now she had to unravel it. She had to let it go, like a carefully woven thread being unspooled.

She concentrated, picturing the shield in her mind, feeling the weave disassemble.

But as she tried to release it, the threads resisted. The shield clung to her, as though it refused to leave.

Panic bubbled in Elyndria’s chest. Her heart raced, and her breath quickened. “I—I can’t,” she whispered, her voice thin with the rising fear.

Saerel stepped forward, her hands moving with practiced precision. “You must release it, Elyndria. If you do not control the weaves, they will control you. The One Power is not something to hold on to forever. It must flow through you. Release it.”

Elyndria closed her eyes, clenching her hands at her sides. She felt the heat, the energy, the presence of the Power surrounding her. She had to let go. In that moment, she remembered Saerel’s words. Fear would be her undoing.

Slowly, she breathed in deeply and, with trembling hands, let the shield unravel. She could feel the Power slipping through her fingers, like water running down a stone, but for the first time, she didn’t resist. She let it go, feeling it fade away, dissipating into the air.

When she opened her eyes again, the shield was gone, and her breath came out in a shaky exhale.

Saerel’s expression was unreadable as she looked at her, but her tone was neutral. “Better. But you are not done. This is only the beginning.”

Elyndria nodded, the weight of the lesson settling over her. She had taken the first step toward control.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was progress.

Later that day, as she returned to her quarters, Elyndria felt an unfamiliar weariness settle into her bones.

The weight of the Power—of the lessons, of the constant striving—was like a heavy mantle she had to carry, and yet, it also filled her with a strange sense of accomplishment.

And there, in the quiet solitude of her room, she thought of the servants. They had always been there, offering comfort in the shadows, in ways the Aes Sedai never could. Elyndria still visited them in her spare moments, though their lives seemed a world apart from hers now. There was no longer time for the whispered conversations over tea, no more sharing of stories in the quiet corners of the Tower.

And yet, as she closed her eyes to sleep that night, she thought of them fondly.

They were still part of her—a reminder of where she had come from, of the girl she had been before she started down this path. But deep down, she knew she could never return to them. Not fully.

She was different now.

The One Power had marked her. And no matter how hard she tried to hold on to what had been, she could never go back.

---

The morning light filtered through the narrow windows of the training room, casting long shadows across the stone floor.

Elyndria stood before Saerel once again, the instructor’s sharp gaze fixed on her. The warm, familiar hum of the One Power still tingled beneath her skin, though it was now a constant companion; both comforting and demanding.

"Again," Saerel commanded, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "This time, no hesitation. Release the shield, and let it dissipate. Don’t fight it."

Elyndria nodded, her hands shaking slightly as she took a deep breath. She could feel the familiar warmth in her chest, the flicker of the One Power responding to her will.

She focused, summoning the shield again, this time stronger and more solid than before. The weave came together as though the Power itself was following her command, wrapping around her like an invisible barrier.

“Good. Now release it.”

Elyndria felt the pulse of the Power in her chest. She was more practiced now, more comfortable with the sensation, but as she focused on unraveling the shield, the threads twisted in her mind.

Her hands trembled.

"I can't," Elyndria muttered, her voice filled with frustration. "It’s too much. Every time I try to release it, the Power just... pulls at me."

Saerel’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward, her presence commanding. “You must let go, Elyndria. The One Power is not a burden to carry; it is meant to be released. You cannot control it by holding on. You must learn to guide it, not fight it.”

Elyndria’s throat tightened, the words heavy in her mind.

She wanted to obey, wanted to do this right. But there was something inside her that held her back. The fear, the uncertainty—it was as if something deep within her resisted the very nature of the Power itself.

“I understand,” Elyndria said, though doubt clung to her words. “But it’s so... alive. I can feel it, like it wants to consume me. It’s not like other things. It’s... too much.”

Saerel tilted her head, studying her with a keen gaze. “The One Power is not a thing to fear, Elyndria. It is a force of the universe. You will never understand it if you continue to see it as an enemy. Think of it as a current—flowing, not fighting.”

Elyndria chewed on her lower lip, her hands still hovering in the air, the shield flickering, but not fully collapsing. "I don't know if I can," she admitted, her voice small, hesitant. “What if I can’t control it? What if...”

She broke off, the words hanging in the air. She couldn’t say it aloud, couldn’t acknowledge the fear that lurked deep within her heart. The fear that she wasn’t meant to channel, that she was only fooling herself by pretending to be something she wasn’t.

“You’re thinking too much,” Saerel interrupted, her voice softer now, but still firm. “Stop overthinking every movement. Trust yourself. The Power listens to intention, not doubt.”

Elyndria lowered her hands, her frustration mounting. "But I can’t just trust it! I don’t know what it wants from me, or even what I want from it. This... this isn’t just a skill you learn like reading a book. It’s inside you. It changes you. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that."

The silence between them stretched, heavy and full of unspoken truths.

Finally, Saerel spoke again, her voice quieter, tinged with something Elyndria couldn’t place. "No one is ever ready for the Power. And no one is ever the same after they begin to channel it. But it is a part of you now, Elyndria. You cannot turn away from it. The Tower has accepted you because of what you are, not despite it."

Elyndria swallowed hard, looking down at her feet. She wanted to argue, to resist, but there was something in Saerel’s tone that stopped her. Something that felt more like a warning than advice.

Saerel stepped closer, her gaze softening for the first time since their lessons began. “I know this isn’t easy. But you are not the first to struggle with this. Many who walk this path doubt themselves. They fear what they might become. But you must control the Power, not let it control you.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, but her mind felt fragmented. She didn’t have the words to express the turmoil that swirled inside her.

The feeling of being torn between two worlds, the Tower and the servants. The Power and her own weakness. The Aes Sedai’s cold, distant presence and the warmth she had once known in the corners of the Tower where the servants had whispered their stories.

She thought of those moments in the dark hallways, the quiet companionship of the servants who had raised her, who had been her only source of comfort. Their faces; gentle, worn, and understanding came to her mind. She still visited them when she could, though their world seemed further and further removed from her own. She had once felt a closeness to them, a bond that now seemed like something from another lifetime.

“I miss them,” Elyndria said suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness.

Saerel blinked, clearly surprised by the admission. “The servants?”

Elyndria nodded, though her words were uncertain. “I don’t know why. I just… I feel disconnected from them now. Like I’ve become someone else, someone who doesn’t belong with them anymore.”

Saerel studied her for a long moment before speaking. “The servants were part of your past. They gave you a foundation, a sense of home. But Elyndria, the Tower is your future now. You must understand that the people you were once close to are not the ones who will shape your path here. Your training, your strength, will come from within the Tower, and from the Power you carry.”

Elyndria swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. “I know,” she whispered. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know,” Saerel said quietly. "But you will learn, Elyndria. In time, you will come to see the Tower not as something that takes you from the past, but as something that shapes your future. You may not feel it now, but this—" She gestured around them, "—is your home now. And you must learn to embrace it, just as you must learn to embrace the Power."

Elyndria nodded, though her heart felt heavy with conflicting emotions. She missed the simplicity of her old life, the quiet corners where she had once felt safe.

But she was beginning to realize that those corners were fading, being replaced by something much larger, much more complex. And though she feared what that would mean, she knew she had no choice but to move forward.

She took a deep breath, her hands still trembling at her sides. “I’ll try,” she said, her voice soft but determined. “I’ll try to control it.”

Saerel gave her a sharp nod, the faintest hint of approval in her gaze. “That is all I can ask.”

---

The days turned into weeks, and Elyndria’s training continued under the watchful eye of Saerel. Each lesson was a test of patience, of willpower, and of self-doubt.

The One Power remained a constant presence in her life, both a blessing and a curse. She was no longer the frightened girl who had stumbled upon the Power so many weeks ago; now she was becoming someone new. Someone she didn’t quite recognise.

Her training sessions with Saerel had become a mixture of frustration and triumph. She was learning to control the weaves; to shape the Power and make it bend to her will, but it never felt as easy as the other novices made it seem.

The warm, comforting hum of the Power would course through her, and yet every time she tried to control it, to make it do what she wanted, it would slip through her fingers like sand.

There were days when she felt she was getting closer, her focus sharp and her connection with the One Power becoming more intuitive. But there were other days, too many of them, when the Power felt like a storm inside her, wild and unmanageable.

It would take everything in her just to hold on to it without it consuming her. And with each failure, each slip of control, she felt the weight of doubt settle more heavily on her heart.

Saerel’s instruction remained firm, but even she couldn’t hide her growing frustration. She never said it out loud, but Elyndria could see it in her eyes. The subtle tightening of her jaw, the slight sharpness of her tone. Saerel was growing impatient.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, Elyndria stood in the center of the training room, her breath ragged, sweat beading on her forehead.

The Power still hummed beneath her skin, but it felt distant, unreachable. Saerel stood at the edge of the room, watching her, her arms crossed.

"Again," Saerel commanded, her voice flat. "You must learn to control it. Focus, Elyndria. You are fighting yourself more than the Power."

Elyndria’s stomach churned with frustration, but she nodded, her fists clenching at her sides. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to center herself. She reached for the Power, the warmth in her chest, but it was like trying to grab hold of a storm.

Her hands trembled, her focus flickering as the Power surged within her, pushing against her like a wave crashing against the shore.

She struggled to control it, to direct it, but it slipped away again, a wild, untamed force.

"I can’t!" Elyndria burst out, her voice raw with emotion. "I don’t understand it! I can’t make it work! Why can’t I control it?"

Saerel’s gaze softened for a moment, though her voice remained steady. “It is not about control, Elyndria. It is about surrender. You must learn to surrender to the Power, to let it flow through you. The more you fight it, the harder it becomes.”

Elyndria shook her head, her frustration boiling over. “How can I surrender to something that feels like it will tear me apart? How can I trust it when it makes me feel so… so small? I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Saerel studied her for a long moment, her lips pressed together in thought. Slowly, she uncrossed her arms and took a step forward.

"You are not the only one to struggle with this," Saerel said quietly. "Many of the greatest Aes Sedai fought the Power in their early years. Many of them feared it. But they learned to embrace it, not because it was easy, but because it was necessary. The One Power is you, Elyndria. It is part of your essence. You cannot run from it."

Elyndria swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I don’t feel like it’s part of me. It feels like a weight, like something that will crush me.”

Saerel’s expression softened, just for a moment. “That feeling is natural. It is the weight of potential. The One Power can break you, yes. But it can also lift you higher than you can imagine.”

Elyndria’s heart thundered in her chest as she looked at Saerel. “What if I can’t reach that potential? What if I’m not… strong enough?”

“You will be,” Saerel said with quiet certainty. “You are stronger than you know. You simply must trust yourself.”

The words hung in the air between them, a quiet challenge. Elyndria could feel the heat of the One Power still, pulsing inside her, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust it. She wasn’t sure if she could trust herself.

After a long silence, Saerel spoke again, her voice gentler now. “I know this isn’t easy. But I’ve seen something in you, Elyndria. You will master this. But you must let go of your fear. You must stop seeing the One Power as an enemy and instead see it as your ally. It will not break you if you stop fighting it.”

Elyndria closed her eyes, trying to push aside the confusion that clouded her thoughts. There was a flicker of understanding, just a small spark, deep inside her.

She reached for the Power once again, but this time, she didn’t try to force it. She simply opened herself to it, allowing it to flow through her, feeling its presence like a current. It was still wild, still unpredictable, but it no longer felt like it was trying to swallow her whole. It was something she could live with.

For the first time, she felt a tentative connection. It wasn’t perfect—it was shaky, uncertain—but it was there. The Power was hers, and for that brief moment, she knew it was her path to follow.

She opened her eyes, meeting Saerel’s gaze. There was a glimmer of approval in the instructor’s eyes, but also something else, a flicker of something Elyndria couldn’t quite place.

“You did it,” Saerel said quietly, her voice tinged with something almost like awe. “You’ve taken the first step.”

Elyndria’s chest swelled with a mixture of pride and relief, though the fear still lingered, just beneath the surface. She had done it, but the road ahead was long and uncertain.

“I will do better,” Elyndria whispered, more to herself than to Saerel.

“I know you will,” Saerel replied, her voice steady. “The hardest part is over. The rest is just a matter of time and practice.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, still unsure of herself but a little less afraid. As she stepped back, her heart lighter than it had been in days, she realized that for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope.

The journey was far from over. But maybe, just maybe, she was ready to walk it.

Chapter 3: Steps into the Light

Elyndria’s hands trembled less these days.

The wild surges of power that once seemed impossible to control now obeyed her touch with a tentative gentleness.

It had been months since Saerel’s first lesson, and with each passing week, Elyndria had learned to channel the One Power with more precision, less fear. The raw, unshaped flows of air and water no longer overwhelmed her. Instead, they responded to her will, bending and shifting with increasing ease.

Saerel had made it clear that Elyndria was ready. The time had come for her to join the other novices in the larger lessons.

That morning, she stood outside the classroom with her heart in her throat. She was twelve, almost thirteen, but among the other novices, that felt like a lifetime of difference. Most of the girls in the room were older, some in their late teens, others even older. Their faces, while not unkind, were marked with a certain knowing, an unspoken understanding of the trials that had shaped them into who they were.

Elyndria felt small in comparison, but Saerel’s quiet encouragement echoed in her mind: You’re ready.

The sound of voices inside the room grew louder, and Elyndria hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing against the doorframe.

She couldn’t help but feel the weight of their gazes as she entered. The room went quiet for a moment before resuming its usual hum.

"Ah, the young one," Sira, one of the older novices, said with a raised eyebrow as Elyndria stepped in. She was a tall girl with dark hair and a sharp gaze. "We’ve heard about you."

Elyndria nodded, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention. “I’m ready to begin,” she murmured, her voice slightly uncertain despite the months of training.

Jeraine, the instructor for the class, gave Elyndria a short nod, her expression unreadable.

She was a Brown Aes Sedai, easily recognized by the dark, scholarly robes she wore. Her hair, dark and tightly braided, was streaked with silver, and her eyes were sharp with the intensity of one who had spent far too many years surrounded by books and knowledge.

“Take your seat, then,” Jeraine instructed, her voice calm but firm, with the cool authority that came from years of teaching novices. She gestured to an empty spot beside a few of the other girls.

Elyndria slid into the seat, trying to shrink into herself, but she couldn’t ignore the curious glances that flitted in her direction.

She was younger than all of them, and while some of the girls were polite, others weren’t shy about their thoughts. Elyndria had come to learn that in the Tower, the truth was spoken as much as it was left unsaid.

The lesson began with a discussion about the history of the Aes Sedai, their rise and fall, their struggles and triumphs. Elyndria tried to focus, but her thoughts kept drifting to the other novices around her.

Sira was sitting across from her, speaking in low tones to a girl named Falla, who looked at Elyndria with open curiosity.

“I heard she’s the youngest among us,” Falla whispered, loud enough for Elyndria to hear, but soft enough that it could have been mistaken for casual conversation.

Sira’s smile was sly, but there was something in her eyes that seemed almost warm. “She may be young, but we’ll see how she fares when the real tests come.”

Elyndria swallowed, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach.

The weight of the lesson and the weight of their expectations pressed against her, but she kept her focus. She couldn’t afford to let them see how uncertain she felt. She had a reputation to uphold now.

As the lesson continued, Elyndria did her best to pay attention, absorbing what little she could about the history of the Aes Sedai, but her thoughts kept wandering. She caught snippets of conversation from the older novices around her.

"Do think she’ll last?" Sira murmured to Falla.

"She’s learning quickly," Falla answered thoughtfully. "We’ll see if she can keep up with the rest of us."

Elyndria felt a small surge of warmth at Falla’s words, though she quickly quelled it, trying to maintain her focus on Jeraine’s lecture. The teacher was now discussing the old laws of the Tower and the intricate politics that governed the Aes Sedai.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and Elyndria quickly stood up, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. She hadn’t made a fool of herself, but she also hadn’t proven herself either.

As the other girls filtered out of the room, Elyndria hung back for a moment. She was gathering her things when a voice called out to her.

“You did well today.” It was Falla, who had lingered behind with a few others.

Elyndria turned, surprised. “Thanks,” she said, her voice quiet. She wasn’t sure how to respond to the compliment. In truth, she was still unsure of herself, still feeling the weight of being the youngest novice in the class. ”I didn’t really do much.”

Falla smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Don’t be so quick to sell yourself short. You’ll find your place here.”

Elyndria felt her face flush again, but there was something in Falla’s words that made her stand a little straighter. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, being younger than the rest.

Perhaps, with time, she could prove herself.

As she made her way to the kitchens for her daily chores, her mind was buzzing with the interactions she had just had. The other novices, though older and more experienced, weren’t as intimidating as they had seemed at first. They were watching her, yes, but they were also waiting; waiting to see what she could do.

And Elyndria wasn’t going to disappoint them.

That evening, after a long day of lessons and chores, Elyndria found herself back in the practice room with Saerel. The instructor’s sharp eyes studied her, evaluating her progress.

“Your control is much better,” Saerel said, her tone neutral but there was a faint edge of approval in her voice. “But don’t grow complacent. You have a long way to go before you can truly call yourself ready.”

Elyndria nodded, though a small part of her, hidden deep inside, felt a flicker of pride. She wasn’t ready yet, but with each passing day, she was getting closer.

Elyndria's days at the White Tower were beginning to feel less like a struggle and more like a new rhythm. Her control over the One Power had improved significantly, and now, she was able to join the older novices in all of their lessons.

It felt strange, walking into the classroom with girls who were several years older than her.

Despite that, her connection to the One Power no longer overwhelmed her, and she no longer felt the gap between herself and the others as painfully as she once had.

The room was already bustling with activity when Elyndria entered. Several of the older novices were gathered around a table, their faces creased in concentration as they worked through their assignments. The air was thick with the quiet hum of their focused energy, each of them studying something: history, philosophy, geography.

They all turned to acknowledge Elyndria as she entered, though their smiles were more polite than warm. They weren’t unkind, but there was a sense that they’d been practicing the way of the Tower for much longer than her.

At the front of the room stood Sheriam, the Mistress of Novices, her presence commanding despite her unassuming appearance. Her gaze was sharp, keenly watching each of the novices as they worked, as if nothing escaped her notice.

“Today, we will practice combining the weaves of Air and Water,” Sheriam announced, her voice calm and measured. “Remember: control is everything. Do not rush.”

Elyndria’s stomach fluttered, but she nodded. The thought of combining Air and Water was intimidating. It required balance—two elements that were opposite in nature, yet essential in every Aes Sedai’s training.

But her lessons with Jeraine had prepared her for this moment. She was ready.

As she stepped into line with the others, Sheriam’s eyes flicked over her, noting her presence without comment.

Elyndria's heart quickened, but she pushed aside the nervousness and focused. This wasn’t just about mastering the weaves. It was about proving to herself that she belonged here.

The older novices began to weave their flows with precision, their hands moving in practiced motions.

Elyndria mimicked them, extending her arms slightly and reaching for the Power. She first grasped the cool flow of Air, feeling the faint pull of it through her fingertips. Then she pulled on the Water, wrapping it around the Air like a ribbon.

For a moment, the elements seemed to resist, like a tight knot that refused to loosen.

But Elyndria took a deep breath, remembering what Jeraine had taught her: gentle, not forceful. She released the tension and allowed the flows to settle, her hands moving in a delicate pattern. Slowly, the two weaves came together, merging into a single, fluid motion.

"Good," Sheriam's voice rang out, and Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat. "Control is the key, Elyndria. You've come a long way."

Elyndria didn’t let herself smile, but she couldn’t suppress the warmth that spread through her chest.

She was improving. She could feel it.

As the lesson progressed, Elyndria found herself settling into the rhythm of the group.

Falla gave her an encouraging smile and whispered, “You’re doing well. It’s not easy, that’s for sure.”

Elyndria nodded gratefully. She had been nervous at first, unsure if she could keep up with the others, but now she felt a small sense of belonging. It wasn’t just about the Power anymore; it was about fitting into the daily life of the Tower, something she was still learning.

After the lesson, as the novices gathered in small groups to practice, Elyndria found herself alongside Falla and another girl named Rianne.

They were talking quietly while practicing their weaves, the conversation turning to the trials of being a novice.

“So, what do you think about the history lessons?” Rianne asked, her tone teasing. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand half of it.”

Elyndria laughed softly. “I know what you mean. It’s so much to remember. I feel like I forget half of it the moment we move on to the next thing.”

Falla shot them both a look of mock horror. “You can’t forget that much! What would we do without the history? The Tower’s history is everything!”

Elyndria rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her voice. “You’re right. I just wish I could remember more of it.” She glanced over at the other novices, a bit of unease still lingering in her chest. “It’s hard. Being so much younger than everyone else in the class.”

Falla gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ll get used to it. It just takes time. You have to remember, you’re here because of your strength in the Power. That’s what matters most.”

Sheriam’s voice interrupted their conversation as she moved between the groups, watching them closely.

Elyndria straightened, instinctively taking a more focused stance.

Sheriam glanced at her but didn’t comment, instead turning to check on the others. There was something in her gaze that told Elyndria she was being watched just as carefully as the older novices.

---

As the day wore on, Elyndria felt the weight of the Tower press down on her in a way she hadn’t felt before. There was no getting around the harsh reality of life as a novice; long days of study, endless chores, and the pressure to constantly prove herself.

But there were moments, like today, where she felt the connection to the others, where the Tower didn’t feel like a place that was simply testing her. It felt like a place where she could truly grow.

Later that evening, as the novices filed into the dining hall for their evening meal, Elyndria glanced around. Falla and Rianne had already claimed a spot at one of the tables, but Elyndria hesitated for a moment.

She could feel the eyes of the other novices on her, and while they weren’t unfriendly, there was still a sense of distance.

But as she sat down at the table with Falla and Rianne, the conversation flowing easily around her, she realized something. She was no longer the scared, isolated child who had first stepped into the classroom. She was part of something bigger now. The road ahead was long, and the challenges would only grow, but Elyndria was ready to face them.

She had found her place among the novices and she wasn’t going anywhere.

The next few days passed in a blur of lessons, practice, and chores. Elyndria’s hands were sore from the endless scrubbing and hours spent in the kitchens, but the work, as tiring as it was, grounded her.

It reminded her that the Tower was not just a place for learning; it was a place of service, of sacrifice. The White Tower was built on discipline, and discipline was as much about the mundane tasks as it was about mastering the One Power.

In the mornings, she joined the older novices for lessons, now fully accustomed to the flow of the Tower’s rhythm. But even as she grew more comfortable with her lessons, she knew the pressure of her situation wasn’t over.

Every moment felt like a test, one where failure had consequences. She wasn’t just learning to wield the Power; she was learning how to survive within the Tower itself.

One afternoon, as Elyndria was finishing her chores in the garden, she noticed Saerel waiting for her by the door leading to the novice quarters. The Green Aes Sedai’s tall, imposing figure was framed by the fading light of the day.

“Elyndria,” Saerel said, her voice calm and measured. She always had a way of speaking that made her sound like she knew more than anyone else, even when she said the simplest things. “I trust your lessons have gone well?”

Elyndria wiped the sweat from her brow and nodded, grateful to see Saerel. Despite the rigorous schedule, she had grown to appreciate Saerel’s steady guidance.

“Yes, Aes Sedai,” Elyndria replied, her voice quieter than she intended. “I feel... more confident now, though I still struggle sometimes.”

Saerel’s lips curled into a small, approving smile. “Confidence comes with practice. You’ve improved remarkably since we first began your training. But you mustn’t forget that confidence alone is not enough. You must also learn restraint.”

Elyndria frowned slightly, trying to understand. “Restraint?”

“The One Power is like a weapon, Elyndria,” Saerel said, her tone growing more serious. “And every Aes Sedai must learn to control it. We are warriors, yes, but a warrior must know when to fight and when to hold their ground. Knowing when to unleash the Power, and when to withhold it, is one of the hardest lessons you will face. And it is a lesson you must learn now, while your control is still new.”

Elyndria nodded thoughtfully, her mind turning over Saerel’s words.

She knew there was truth in them, but the idea of withholding power felt unnatural. It was so often the rush of the One Power, the fierce release of it, that had made her feel alive.

“But I will learn,” Elyndria said quietly, a new resolve in her voice. “I will not fail.”

Saerel gave a slow nod of approval, her expression softening ever so slightly. “Good. That is the spirit. Remember this, Elyndria: you have much to learn. But you are stronger than you think.”

Before Elyndria could respond, a voice called out to them from across the courtyard. “Elyndria! You’re late!”

It was Falla, who came running over with a wide grin on her face. “We were just about to head to the hall for the next lesson. We thought you’d gotten lost!”

Rianne was walking beside her, her usual quiet composure evident, but there was a slight smile on her lips. “You should be more careful, Elyndria. They’ll start calling you out if you keep slipping behind.”

Elyndria smiled back, feeling a warmth spread in her chest. She had only joined their group a few weeks ago, but already she felt like a part of something—like the Tower wasn’t quite as intimidating when she had people to rely on. Even Falla’s teasing felt comfortable now.

“I was just finishing up,” Elyndria said with a chuckle. “I’ll catch up, don’t worry.”

The three girls started heading toward the novice hall, but Elyndria lingered for a moment, looking back at Saerel. The Green Aes Sedai seemed deep in thought, watching the girls with a distant gaze. After a moment, she turned back to Elyndria, her expression softening.

“You have good companions here, Elyndria,” Saerel said, her voice almost like a whisper now. “Do not forget that. They will help you in ways you cannot imagine.”

Elyndria nodded, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and something more. She had never felt quite like this before, this sense of belonging. As the years passed, she knew her connection to these people; novices, sisters, and Aes Sedai alike would shape who she became.

The bond between the novices had become a lifeline for her. Even though Elyndria was the youngest in her class, only twelve, she never felt excluded. She worked harder than anyone to catch up, determined to prove herself worthy of being among them. Their conversations after lessons, the shared struggles in their chores, and the quiet camaraderie were things she never wanted to lose.

As they entered the novice hall, Falla fell into step beside her, her usual energy making the air feel lighter.

“Did you hear? Sheriam said we’ll be starting our work with ter’angreal soon. I can’t wait to see how they work. What about you, Elyndria?” Falla asked eagerly.

Elyndria’s eyes brightened at the mention of ter’angreal. She had heard stories about these mysterious objects and was eager to learn more about them. She glanced back at Saerel for a moment, then returned her attention to Falla.

“I think it will be fascinating,” she replied, the excitement creeping into her voice. “I’ve always wondered what they can do.”

Rianne nodded thoughtfully. “You need to be careful, though. They’re powerful, but not always in ways you expect. We’ll need to be cautious.”

Elyndria agreed, feeling the weight of her instructor’s words in the back of her mind. But there was a spark inside her, an eagerness to learn. She knew she had so much still to discover, but with her new connections and the guidance of Saerel, Elyndria felt a sense of purpose she hadn’t had before.

As they settled into their seats for the lesson, Sheriam, the Mistress of Novices, stepped forward, her sharp gaze sweeping over the group. She was a woman of few words, but the authority in her presence was unmistakable.

“Today, we will be discussing the history of ter’angreal,” Sheriam began, her voice steady and clear. “Be attentive. These are not tools to be handled recklessly. You are all still novices, and it is crucial that you learn their uses under supervision.”

Elyndria sat up straighter, the anticipation growing. Today would mark the beginning of a new chapter in her training, one where she would learn to wield not just the One Power, but the very artifacts that could shape its flow.

And in the depths of her heart, Elyndria felt something more.

As Sheriam spoke about the Age of Legends, Elyndria found herself oddly captivated. The long-lost world, with its mysteries, seemed to call to her in a way she couldn't explain.

She couldn’t shake the excitement about the possibility of working with ter’angreal. She had heard stories of these objects—some said they were remnants of the Age of Legends, each one holding powers that even Aes Sedai could not always fully understand.

Her fingers itched to touch one, to feel its energy pulse beneath her fingertips.

As the lesson began, Sheriam, the Mistress of Novices, continued her detailed lecture on the history of ter’angreal. Her voice, firm yet calm, cut through the quiet murmurs of the novices.

“These artifacts are not mere curiosities,” Sheriam said, her dark eyes scanning the room with a level of scrutiny that made the room feel smaller. “Each ter’angreal has a specific purpose—one that only the Aes Sedai can unlock through their wisdom and control. The powers they hold are dangerous to those who do not understand them fully.”

Falla, who sat next to Elyndria, leaned over and whispered, “I heard some of the older ter’angreal can be used to amplify a channeler’s strength. Imagine what we could do with one of those!”

Elyndria, who was more reserved than Falla, nodded but kept her voice low. “I’m more interested in learning their history. What they were used for in the Age of Legends.”

She hadn’t known much about the Age of Legends until she began her lessons with the other novices, but something about its mystery piqued her interest.

Sheriam’s sharp gaze flicked to Elyndria’s direction at the sound of her voice. There was no rebuke, but her piercing stare made Elyndria quickly lower her gaze. She wasn’t trying to draw attention to herself, but she could sense that the Mistress of Novices was always watching—always measuring.

“You are right, Elyndria,” Sheriam spoke, her voice now carrying the weight of history. “The ter’angreal are a window into a time that is both lost and revered. Many of them are relics from the Age of Legends, when the world was a far different place. We must approach these artifacts with the respect and caution they deserve, or risk repeating the mistakes of that age.”

As Sheriam spoke, Elyndria felt a tug in her chest, a feeling that grew with each word. The Age of Legends, the world before the Breaking... there were so many things she longed to understand about it.

She looked around at the other novices; Falla, Rianne, and even the older ones in the room and realized just how much they had to learn. She wasn’t just here to study the One Power. She was here to connect with something much greater, something that had once been part of a far grander world.

The lesson eventually ended, and the novices filed out of the hall in an orderly manner. Elyndria felt a slight disappointment when it was over. She wanted to know more. The curiosity had become a fire within her, one she knew she could not ignore.

As they walked out into the sunlight, Falla was once again in her usual spirited mood. “Can you believe it? We might actually get to handle a ter’angreal soon. I think we’re going to learn so much this year!”

Rianne, quieter as always, added, “We need to be careful. The Mistress of Novices is right. Some of them are too powerful to be played with.”

“I don’t think Sheriam meant to scare us,” Elyndria replied, her voice thoughtful. “It’s more about respecting their power. We can’t just... dive into something without knowing what it is first.”

Falla glanced at her, an amused smirk tugging at her lips. “Since when did you get so serious, Elyndria?”

Elyndria’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she stood her ground. “I just think we need to be careful, that’s all.”

Before Falla could respond, the door to their quarters opened, and Saerel appeared in the doorway, her green shawl draped elegantly over her shoulders. The Green Aes Sedai’s expression was unreadable, but Elyndria could feel the weight of her presence.

“Elyndria,” Saerel said with a nod, her voice calm. “It’s time to continue your training.”

Elyndria nodded and stood up straighter, a slight tension running through her as she glanced back at the other novices. Falla offered her a playful wave, while Rianne gave her a silent nod of encouragement.

They had grown close, in spite of the differences in their ages, and now, as they each embarked on their individual paths, they offered each other the support needed to thrive in the most difficult of environments.

As Saerel led Elyndria away, they passed through the halls where the older novices and Accepted practiced their own lessons. Elyndria had yet to see the Accepted’s quarters up close, and the thought of joining their ranks one day made her heart flutter with both excitement and anxiety.

She could feel the weight of her training every day, but the desire to rise through the ranks of the Tower, to prove herself worthy to Saerel grew with each passing lesson.

Once they arrived in the small training chamber, Saerel turned to Elyndria. “Today’s lesson will be on control. You’ve made great strides, but you must master restraint.”

Elyndria nodded, her hands trembling slightly. She felt the pulse of the Power deep within her, always there, always a part of her now. The first time she had touched the Source, she had felt like an outsider in her own skin. But with Saerel’s guidance, and her increasing understanding of her own abilities, she was beginning to feel more in control. Still, there was much more to learn.

“I’m ready, Aes Sedai,” Elyndria said, her voice soft but resolute.

Saerel gave a brief nod of approval. “Good. Then let’s begin.”

The lesson started as it always did—with Saerel guiding Elyndria through the motions of focusing her mind, clearing it of distractions, and drawing the One Power in carefully, like a thread. Each time she succeeded, Elyndria felt a wave of triumph, though she quickly learned to temper it. Saerel’s teachings were not just about the Power. They were about understanding the limits and knowing when to stop.

As the lesson continued, Elyndria struggled at times to balance the desire to release the Power fully with the need to control it. She still wasn’t sure if she truly understood why restraint was so vital. It seemed... counterintuitive.

"You're pushing too hard," Saerel said, her voice steady but firm. "Slow down. Focus on the flow, not the end result."

Elyndria took a deep breath, remembering the quiet, calm moments when she had first learned to channel. It had been a different time, but that feeling of calm was still there, waiting for her.

The lesson stretched on, but each moment built upon the last. Elyndria felt the One Power flow through her, at her command, steady and controlled.

Finally, when the hour had passed, Saerel gave her a nod of approval. “Well done, Elyndria. Remember, control is a lifelong lesson. You must never stop practicing.”

Elyndria nodded, exhausted but exhilarated. She had made progress. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She wasn’t the same girl who had stumbled into the Tower, overwhelmed and unsure. Elyndria was becoming something more—something with purpose, something that had the power to shape her own destiny.

As the training session concluded, Elyndria felt a sense of accomplishment, though it was tempered by the exhaustion settling into her limbs.

The One Power still felt like a strange force, both a part of her and separate from her. But with every lesson, every moment of control, she felt herself becoming more attuned to it. It was no longer something to fear. Instead, it was something she could command, if only with the right amount of patience and discipline.

“Good work today,” Saerel’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You’ve made progress.”

Elyndria met her gaze, her heart beating a little faster, a small surge of pride bubbling up in her chest. “Thank you, Aes Sedai.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Saerel replied with a wry smile. “You’ll need to continue this work every day, and don’t forget that even when you think you’ve mastered something, the Power will always test you. Never grow complacent.”

Elyndria nodded, taking in Saerel’s words carefully. She had learned quickly that being a novice was more than just learning to channel. It was about discipline, patience, and control; control over herself, over her emotions, over her connection to the Power.

It was a lesson that would take a lifetime to master, and that was something Elyndria had come to accept.

As she left the training chamber, Elyndria reflected on Saerel’s words. There was much more to learn, and even more to control. But she was ready. The connection to the Power was no longer a distant, alien force. It was something within her, something she could grasp and mold, just as the Aes Sedai did. The journey was only beginning, but Elyndria felt something stirring deep inside her, a certainty that she would rise to the challenges ahead.

Chapter 4: The Sworn Sisterhood

The days passed like shadows, fleeting and constant.

Elyndria had been a novice at the Tower long enough now to feel its rhythms, the silent hum of the One Power running through the stone walls.

Her hands were no longer blistered from chores, though the work had become no less grueling, and her mind was sharper than ever. Each day, as her lessons continued, she could feel the tug of something greater inside her, a force that had begun to feel like a natural extension of herself.

The One Power was becoming less of a mystery and more a part of her, and with each passing lesson, her confidence in controlling it grew. But confidence alone wasn’t enough. Even now, as a novice, she was learning that restraint was just as important as strength.

Elyndria stood in the training chamber, her focus on the small ter'angreal before her. The object was a delicate stone disc, its surface smooth and etched with strange markings. The Mistress of Novices, Sheriam, had placed it on a pedestal in front of her, a quiet challenge in the air.

“Try it, Elyndria,” Sheriam had said, her voice a blend of authority and encouragement. “But be careful. Ter'angreal can amplify the Power in ways you may not expect.”

Saerel had also been present, watching from the sidelines. The Green Aes Sedai was a figure Elyndria had come to trust over the months, her guidance helping her harness the raw potential of her abilities. Still, as she stood before the ter'angreal, Elyndria felt a twinge of nervousness.

She had heard the stories of ter'angreal, of their dangers, their ability to tap into ancient powers, powers that even Aes Sedai could struggle to control.

“Focus,” Saerel’s voice was a steady anchor. “Let the ter'angreal guide you. But do not forget—restraint.”

Elyndria’s fingers brushed the smooth surface of the stone disc. She felt a pulse of energy, a tingle that resonated deep within her.

Her heart raced as she drew the One Power in, allowing it to flow through her like a river, channeling it toward the disc. The ter'angreal hummed in response, its markings glowing faintly as the energy within her coiled tighter.

For a moment, she felt a surge—fierce and powerful. She could sense the raw strength of the ter'angreal amplifying her ability, the One Power surging through her veins with an intensity that left her breathless. But then, a whisper of doubt crept into her thoughts.

Was she controlling it?

Or was it controlling her?

Saerel’s voice broke through her concentration. “Restrain it, Elyndria. Focus on control, not power.”

The reminder was enough to ground her. Elyndria slowed her breathing, focusing on the flow of the Power, not the explosive release she had once desired. The raw energy receded, replaced by a steady, controlled stream. The ter'angreal settled, its glow fading as Elyndria released the flow of energy.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she stood taller. The room was quiet for a moment, before Saerel stepped forward.

“Well done,” the Green Aes Sedai said, her gaze appraising yet approving. “You’ve learned control. But this is just the beginning.”

Elyndria’s heart still raced, but she felt a surge of accomplishment. It wasn’t just the power she had commanded that thrilled her; it was the restraint, the knowledge that she had taken another step toward mastery. It felt like a key had turned inside her, unlocking a new door.

The ter'angreal was a tool, yes—but it was her mind, her restraint, that made it work.

---

Four years had passed since that moment in the training chamber. Elyndria had grown from the uncertain, young novice into a woman ready to face the trials of the Tower.

At the age of eighteen, her time as a novice was nearly at its end. The journey had been long, filled with lessons on control, power, and the sometimes painful realization that mastery over the One Power was not about domination, but about balance.

She now stood on the threshold of a new chapter, her acceptance trials.

The White Tower had become her world.

She knew every hallway, every corner, every quiet room where novices gathered to study. She had spent countless hours learning the intricacies of the One Power, mastering ter'angreal, and refining her knowledge of the history of the Aes Sedai.

But it was the trials that loomed now, the final test of her abilities and her commitment to the Tower.

Elyndria stood in front of the large mirror in her quarters, examining herself. The reflection staring back at her was one of a young woman now. She was no longer the short, wide-eyed girl with pale skin and pale blonde hair who hovered in the shadows of the Tower at twelve.

Her once-childish features had sharpened with age and experience, her eyes, still a bright green, no longer filled with simple wonder. But with the weight of all she had learned.

Her gown, the white of a novice, now felt too small for her. Soon, she would wear the shawl of an Accepted, and the responsibility of that would weigh heavily on her shoulders.

But for now, she allowed herself a moment of reflection.

“You are ready,” Saerel’s voice echoed from behind her. The Green Aes Sedai stood at the door, her presence as commanding as ever. “The Tower has tested you, and now it’s time for you to test yourself. You know what awaits.”

Elyndria turned, meeting her mentor’s gaze. “I am ready, Aes Sedai,” she said, her voice steady, though a part of her was still unsure.

There were moments of doubt, but she had learned to push them aside. The trials were meant to challenge her—to push her limits, to see if she was worthy of becoming Accepted.

“The trials will demand everything from you,” Saerel continued. “But I have no doubt that you will succeed.”

Elyndria gave a small nod, her heart beating faster now. Her mind returned to her years of training. The ter'angreal. The restraint. The control. All of it had led her here, to this point.

She had learned so much, and now the time had come to prove herself. She wasn’t the frightened child who had learnt about her powers, unsure of herself.

The path she had walked had not been easy. Years of study and practice had shaped her into someone she could be proud of. The One Power flowed through her with greater ease than it ever had before.

She had learned the intricate balances of control and release, how to guide her power without overwhelming herself. She could weave the threads with precision, commanding the elements with the elegance of someone far older.

Yet, today, the trials were looming. And they were not just a test of the One Power; they were a test of everything she had become. Of her strength, her discipline, and her ability to stand alone, without the constant guidance she had relied on.

“Do you understand what the trials will ask of you?” Saerel's voice broke through her reverie. Elyndria had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed the Green Aes Sedai approach her to stand closer to her.

“Yes, Aes Sedai.” Elyndria turned to face her mentor, a steadying breath escaping her lips. “The trials will test my abilities, my control over the One Power, and my resolve to continue on the path of the Aes Sedai.”

Saerel’s expression softened ever so slightly, and she gave a small nod. “It is not just about the One Power. It is about who you are. The trials are as much about the heart as they are about the mind. They will push you to your limits, force you to confront your fears and doubts. But do not forget this: you have already overcome so much. You are ready for this, Elyndria.”

Her words, though calm, were laced with a rare kind of tenderness. Elyndria had always felt Saerel’s protective nature, though the Green Aes Sedai never allowed it to cloud her lessons.

Elyndria had earned Saerel’s respect. And now, more than ever, Elyndria needed it.

The trials were inescapable, and as Elyndria followed Saerel through the corridors, her heart began to quicken.

She could feel the weight of the moment, the heavy silence that hung over the Tower, as if it too was holding its breath. This was the end of her novice journey and the beginning of something else. Something deeper, something that would define her future.

As they entered the chamber where the trials would take place, Elyndria took a steadying breath. The room was vast, cold stone walls standing as silent witnesses to the process that had turned countless young novices into Aes Sedai over the centuries.

The Mistress of Novices, Sheriam, stood at the far end of the room, her sharp gaze assessing Elyndria as she approached. “Are you ready?” she said, her voice as impassive as always.

Elyndria didn’t feel ready, not in the way she’d imagined she would, but she knew she had no choice now. It was time to step forward. The trials would be long and difficult.

And she would face them alone.

Elyndria gave a firm nod, standing tall despite the sense of overwhelming pressure. "Yes, Aes Sedai. I am ready."

Sheriam stepped aside, and Elyndria stood in the center of the chamber. A single pedestal stood before her, a stone slab that gleamed faintly in the dim light. As the Mistress of Novices raised her hand, Elyndria understood that it had begun. The world seemed to shimmer and twist around her, as if reality itself was beginning to fracture.

Elyndria fought to steady herself, drawing on every ounce of strength she had gathered during her years at the Tower. The pressure on her chest tightened, as if the weight of her future was pressing down on her.

The room before her seemed to stretch and twist, a ripple in reality that she had come to understand was a characteristic of the trials. The first test was about to begin.

The stone walls seemed to dissolve around Elyndria, replaced by a swirl of bright blue skies, the scent of summer rain hanging thick in the air. The sun hung low, casting long shadows on the ground. She was standing in the middle of a large open field. The ground beneath her was soft, uneven in places, and the wind carried the faint scent of grass and earth.

Before her, several stones lay scattered across the field, each a different size and shape.

A simple task: Move them.

The Power surged in her veins, familiar and comforting, but she had to be careful. There was no margin for error here.

Elyndria drew on the One Power, weaving the threads of Air to lift the stones into the air, guiding them with precise control. But as she focused, she noticed the pressure building—Air was no longer just lifting the stones; it was being used to shape them into a larger, more intricate design, as if the very environment were altering the task.

A sharp crack of thunder echoed in the distance, and she felt a shift in the air, a sudden drop in temperature. The stones around her began to grow cold to the touch. The elements were changing, becoming more volatile. A gust of wind picked up, threatening to blow her carefully woven threads away.

The test was no longer just about moving the stones. She needed to maintain balance.

Elyndria took a steadying breath and expanded her weave, pulling Fire and Earth into the equation. The temperature rose, the stone's resistance softened, and the wind died down as she forced her power to bend the forces of nature to her will.

Her hands were steady, though her concentration was nearly at its limit.

In the distance, a storm began to form. Dark clouds rolled over the horizon, flashing with lightning. If she didn’t maintain control, everything would collapse, the stones, her power, her composure.

She weaved faster, threading each element into a tapestry of power, bending them to her will as she formed a single large monolith of stone, suspended in mid-air.

It held.

With the last thread of power, she anchored the monolith into place, the storm slowly abating as the winds died down. She did not have time to feel a sense of achievement as the world around her shifted once again as the air turned thick with mist, the oppressive dampness clinging to her skin as Elyndria stepped into a new landscape.

Before her stood an exact replica of herself, though this figure was slightly taller, her blonde hair more polished, her eyes filled with a cold and calculating gaze.

The vision of herself smiled. "Do you think you are ready for the trials, Elyndria?" the figure asked, its voice laced with mockery. "Do you truly believe you’ve mastered everything? You have so much more to learn."

Elyndria’s pulse quickened as she stepped forward, her heart beating a little too fast, but she steadied herself. “I am ready.”

The reflection laughed. “Are you? How many times have you doubted yourself? How many times has your mind wandered to the thought of failure? The only reason you’re still here is because you’ve convinced yourself you belong. You’re not ready for this. You never will be.”

Every word the reflection spoke felt like a knife in her chest.

Elyndria closed her eyes, a wave of self-doubt crashing over her. She could feel it now; the flickering remnants of every moment she had questioned herself, every mistake she had made. The long nights where the weight of the Tower's expectations had driven her to tears, the times she had wanted to run but instead forced herself to stay.

The reflection continued, whispering her insecurities like a cold wind. "You’re weak, Elyndria. You’re not strong enough for the Aes Sedai. You’ll fail the trials. You’ll fall short, and it’ll all be your fault."

She opened her eyes to meet the reflection, her heart pounding. It was true, in a way.

She had always questioned herself. Did she deserve to be here?

But if she allowed herself to fall into this trap, she would never make it. This was a test of her resolve.

The power within her thrummed, ready to defend her, but she forced herself to stand still. The reflection taunted her, but Elyndria refused to move.

“Do you fear your own failure?” the reflection sneered. “Do you fear what you could become?”

"No," Elyndria said, her voice clear and strong. "I am who I choose to be. I will not allow fear to dictate my future."

With a breath, Elyndria stepped forward, breaking the vision of herself. Her reflection shattered into shards of glass, disappearing into the mist.

As the mist cleared, the reflection was gone, and Elyndria found herself back in the trial room. Her heart was still pounding, but she had confronted her greatest fear—her own doubt—and had overcome it.

Elyndria took a deep breath as the room around her seemed to warp and shift.

Her final trial. She was so close to finishing.

The cold stone walls of the Tower faded into something unfamiliar, like a dream that refused to fully take shape. The air felt heavy, as if the very space around her was watching, waiting.

In front of her was a long hallway, its length stretching farther than she could see. The floor was lined with faded carpets, and the walls were adorned with portraits of unfamiliar faces; faces that felt oddly familiar, yet were not people she knew. People who seemed to be looking directly at her, their eyes filled with sorrow and recognition.

“Elyndria…”

The voice echoed, soft and distant, yet it felt close, like it was whispered directly into her ear. She whipped around, but there was no one there.

A figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the hall. His features were indistinct, blurred as if hidden beneath a veil of fog, but the energy in the air grew heavy with his presence. A figure she instinctively recognized, though her mind could not place him.

"Come closer," the voice beckoned again, and despite the unsettling nature of the moment, Elyndria found herself moving toward the figure.

But as she walked, the space around her began to warp. The walls seemed to shrink, the portraits twisting, their eyes following her every step. The carpet beneath her feet shifted, becoming darker, dirtier. The air grew thick with the scent of something… burned.

Familiar, yet distant.

Her breath quickened as fragments of memories began to flash, bits of another life she couldn’t fully grasp. There was a room, a small child sitting at a table, crying, calling out for someone, anyone. A woman’s hand reaching toward her, but the face was blurred, just like the figure ahead of her.

"Elyndria..." The voice sounded again, now more insistent, more urgent. "Don’t you remember me?"

The figure stepped closer, his face sharpening, revealing his features—an older man, with piercing dark eyes and dark hair. His face was lined with scars, a roughness that suggested battles fought and lost.

His eyes locked with hers, filled with something Elyndria couldn’t place—a haunting familiarity.

"You’re… you're someone I should know," she whispered, the words slipping out as she tried to make sense of the fleeting images in her mind.

The man’s lips curled into a faint, sad smile. “I was your protector, your guide. Before you chose this path.”

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat.

Before I chose this path?

She didn’t understand. Her life here—her training, her purpose—was all she had ever known. The Tower was her home, the Sisters her family.

“No, I don’t—” Her voice faltered. “I don’t remember you.”

“You would never remember,” he said with a hint of regret. “You chose to forget. But the past is never truly gone. It follows you.”

“Who are you?” Elyndria whispered, now frantic. “What do you mean? What is all this?”

The man’s face softened with pity. “You were never meant to forget, Elyndria.”

Elyndria staggered back, pressing a hand to her forehead. Her mind was spinning, unable to reconcile the fragments of memories with the life she knew.

Had she really chosen to forget something?

What had she abandoned?

A sudden gust of wind blew through the hall, and the figure began to fade, his form blurring once more.

“You cannot escape it,” the man’s voice echoed. “Not even here.”

The space around her seemed to collapse, the walls turning to black smoke, the portraits fading away. Elyndria’s heart pounded in her chest as the dark figure vanished into the nothingness.

She was alone again, the weight of confusion pressing heavily on her.

Her breath was shallow as she tried to steady herself. The question echoed in her mind: What did I forget? The memory of the figure, of his words, lingered like an unanswered riddle.

She tried to shake it off, focusing on the path ahead. But it was clear—her journey was not just about the trials ahead. It was also about uncovering what she had left behind before she was left on the steps of the white tower when she was but a toddler.

Her eyes closed as exhaustion settled into her bones. There were too many questions, too many mysteries that left her gasping for answers.

The Trial of Endurance was over.

Elyndria had survived, though the echoes of the vision still haunted her mind. The sense of loss, of something she couldn’t quite remember, lingered like a shadow at the edges of her consciousness. She was aware of her growing power, but it felt both like a blessing and a curse. The trials had tested her on every level—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

And as the final test came to an end, Elyndria stood at the precipice of a new chapter in her life.

Elyndria emerged from the stone arch, her heart racing and her limbs trembling with exhaustion. The weight of the trials had been overwhelming. The first two had been challenging, but the last… the last had shaken her in ways she couldn’t quite describe. She didn’t fully understand it, and the memory was a haze of conflicting emotions—faces she didn’t recognize, places she’d never been.

It felt as if something had slipped through her grasp, something crucial, but it was too elusive to fully remember.

The Novice Mistress stood at the entrance, her sharp gaze cutting through the air as Elyndria approached. There was no judgment, no outward emotion, only the cold efficiency of a woman who had seen hundreds of novices pass through the same arch before. Elyndria had passed, as expected.

But she still felt unsettled.

As she stepped forward, the weight of her cloak settled on her shoulders, and she looked up to find Saerel waiting just beyond the archway.

The Green Aes Sedai stood with an air of quiet strength; her green shawl draped elegantly around her shoulders. She’d been with Elyndria throughout her training, guiding her when she’d felt lost and offering steady reassurance when Elyndria doubted herself.

"You’ve done it," Saerel said with a smile, though there was a glint of something in her eyes—pride, perhaps, but also something like concern. "I knew you would. How do you feel?"

Elyndria stared at Saerel for a long moment, still processing the echoes of the trial. She felt something deep within her that she couldn't explain, like a gap in her understanding that refused to fill.

"I feel… strange," Elyndria admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being caught between two worlds, like her very soul had shifted in ways she didn’t understand. "The last trial was unlike the others. It wasn’t just about facing myself. It was different. And now—"

Saerel stepped closer, her gaze softening as she studied Elyndria carefully. "It’s normal to feel that way after the trials. They test you in ways you can’t always predict. The last trial, especially, often leaves a novice with lingering doubts or questions. But remember, you’ve made it through. That’s what matters."

Elyndria looked down at the stone floor, her mind swirling with the fragments of the experience. Faces, names—none of it made sense, but there was something about it that felt so familiar, like she should know the people from the trial.

The sense of recognition unsettled her further, making the victory feel hollow.

Saerel gave her a gentle nudge, pulling her from her thoughts. "The trials are a reflection of who you are now, and who you will be. Whatever you saw, whatever it meant… it’s part of your path. You are stronger for having passed them."

Elyndria nodded slowly, but she couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at her. She wanted to ask more—wanted to demand answers about what she had experienced—but she couldn’t bring herself to voice it. Something told her it wasn’t time yet, or maybe it wasn’t meant to be understood. The mystery felt too deep.

Saerel continued, her voice warm but firm. "What matters now, Elyndria, is that you’ve passed. You are ready to take the next step."

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat. "The next step?"

Saerel smiled, a proud gleam in her eyes. "Your training has brought you this far, and now it’s time for you to claim your place among us."

Before Elyndria could respond, the Novice Mistress spoke from behind her, her tone impassive as always. "Elyndria, you’ve passed the trials and are now an Accepted. You will join the other Accepted, and the Aes Sedai will determine your future path."

The Novice Mistress turned away, leaving Elyndria and Saerel alone in the trial hall. Saerel gave a small, encouraging smile. "There is much to learn, Elyndria. The road ahead will not be easy, but now that you have earned your place among us, the rest of your journey begins."

---

The vast chamber of the Aes Sedai Hall was filled with the quiet hum of anticipation. The towering stone pillars, carved with intricate patterns, reached up toward the ceiling, and the long table at the center of the room was encircled by the seated Aes Sedai, their robes of various colors creating a vibrant sea of silks.

The room itself seemed to hold the weight of centuries, each piece of history in this sacred space a reminder of the power and responsibility these women held.

Elyndria stood before them, her heart racing, yet her gaze steady as she surveyed the faces of the Aes Sedai and Accepted gathered there. She had come so far from a novice unsure of herself to standing in front of the highest ranks of the White Tower.

Now, it was time to make her choice. The moment had arrived for her to declare which Ajah she would join, and Elyndria could feel the enormity of the decision pressing down on her.

At the far end of the room stood Siuan Sanche, the Amyrlin Seat, her presence commanding as she studied Elyndria with her penetrating gaze. Siuan’s eyes softened just a fraction as she spoke, her voice both firm and welcoming.

"Elyndria," the Amyrlin said, her tone carrying the weight of tradition, "you have completed the trials and proven yourself ready. You stand now at the crossroads, where all Aes Sedai must make their choice. Choose your Ajah."

For a long moment, Elyndria stood in silence, her mind racing. She had always known, deep down, that she belonged with the Green Ajah.

Her path, her training, and the quiet fire within her heart had always pointed in that direction. The Green Ajah's focus on battle, defense, and the fight to protect the world resonated with her core. It had called to her since she had begun as a novice in the tower.

"I choose the Green Ajah," Elyndria said, her voice unwavering. There was no hesitation, no doubt. It was the decision she had always known was hers to make.

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment. Then, murmurs of approval rippled through the gathered Aes Sedai, and Elyndria felt the weight of their gazes upon her. In the corner of her vision, she saw Saerel, the Green Aes Sedai who had guided her through so much, her face lighting up with pride.

Siuan Sanche nodded, a smile touching her lips. "The Green Ajah has a new sister. Welcome, Elyndria."

Elyndria’s heart swelled with pride, but it was only the beginning. The Amyrlin Seat’s gaze shifted slightly, and Elyndria felt the weight of the moment deepen.

Then, a woman stepped forward from among the Green-clad Aes Sedai, her green shawl rippling as she moved. Elyndria recognized her instantly. Kerene Nagashi, a Kandori Aes Sedai, who stood as the Captain-General of the Green Ajah.

Her dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, met Elyndria’s with an expression of both respect and authority.

Kerene Nagashi spoke, her voice carrying the power of command. "Elyndria, welcome to the Green Ajah. You have chosen wisely. We fight to protect the world, and in these times, we need warriors who understand the weight of that responsibility. You are now one of us, a Green Aes Sedai. We fight not just with our swords, but with our strength, our will, and our mastery of the One Power."

Elyndria stood straighter, her chest swelling with pride.

The weight of the decision was finally lifting from her shoulders, replaced by the certainty that she had made the right choice. The Green Ajah was her path. She could feel it deep in her bones.

Kerene’s sharp eyes softened slightly as she laid a hand on Elyndria’s shoulder. "You will be tested, Elyndria. The Green Ajah does not offer an easy path. But if you have the courage to walk it, you will find strength beyond measure. Welcome, Sister."

Elyndria nodded, her voice thick with emotion as she replied, "Thank you, Captain-General."

Kerene’s lips twitched in a rare smile, and then she stepped back, allowing Elyndria to breathe in the moment.

Saerel, standing beside Elyndria, placed a hand on her arm. "I knew you were destined for the Green. You have always had the spirit of a warrior, Elyndria. You are exactly where you need to be."

Elyndria smiled at Saerel, her heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you, Aes Sedai. You have always believed in me."

Siuan Sanche, still standing at the head of the room, regarded Elyndria with a thoughtful expression. "The Green Ajah will always need those who are willing to fight, Elyndria. I trust you will prove yourself worthy of the title."

Elyndria bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment, the weight of the responsibility settling over her, but she welcomed it.

She was ready. No more doubts, no more fear. The Green Ajah was her home now, and she would stand with them, protecting the world they all held dear.

The other Aes Sedai and Accepted gathered in the hall stood, their eyes filled with respect as they regarded the new addition to their ranks. Elyndria stood among them, no longer a novice, no longer a child. She was Aes Sedai now—Green, strong, and ready for whatever the future held.

As the last of the formalities were concluded and the meeting began to disperse, Elyndria took one last look at the room. The faces of the Aes Sedai, the women who had fought and sacrificed for so long, filled her with a quiet resolve. She was one of them now, bound by the same oath, driven by the same purpose.

Her journey had only just begun, but Elyndria was ready to face it; whatever came next, as a Green Aes Sedai.

Chapter 5: The First Test

The morning sun shone through the Tower’s high windows, casting long shadows across the stone floors of the Aes Sedai Hall.

Elyndria stood by the window of her small chamber, absentmindedly watching the clouds move in the sky as she gazed out over the White Tower grounds. It had been a few weeks since becoming an official Aes Sedai ,the feeling of being Accepted was still fresh, her heart swelled with pride every time she considered the weight of the green shawl now resting over her shoulders.

She had earned it.

But now, Elyndria knew that the real journey was just beginning.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of a knock at her door.

“Enter,” she called, her voice steady, yet carrying the familiar feeling of anticipation.

The door creaked open, and Saerel stepped into the room. The Green Aes Sedai's presence always seemed to bring a sense of calm to Elyndria, the woman who had guided her through much of her training.

Saerel offered a warm smile as she entered, her green shawl draping gracefully over her shoulders.

“Elyndria,” Saerel began, her tone carrying the weight of something important, “I’ve been assigned to investigate some troubling reports. There have been sightings of Trollocs near the borderlands, and the Tower is sending a small group to assess the situation. I’m going with a few of our sisters, and I want you to come along.”

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat.

It was her first true mission as a Green, a chance to prove herself in the field. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, which she had begun to carry with her whenever she left the Tower.

“I’m ready,” Elyndria replied, her voice unwavering. “I want to help. What’s the plan?”

Saerel’s smile softened with approval. “You’ve grown strong, Elyndria. We’ll leave tomorrow. We’ll be traveling with a caravan of merchants. An unlikely alliance, but necessary. They’ve reported suspicious activity near the Blight, and their path is intersecting with ours. We’ll need to approach with caution.”

Elyndria nodded, her resolve hardening. “I’ll prepare.”

The next day, the sun was already climbing high in the sky as Elyndria and Saerel walked through the Tower gates. The air was crisp, the wind carrying the scent of earth and the promise of adventure.

The caravan they were meeting was a strange collection of travelers—wagons drawn by horses, and men and women of varying ages and nationalities. They were rough-hewn, their clothes plain but practical, and their faces showed the weariness of the road.

As they approached, Elyndria couldn’t help but notice the wary glances thrown in their direction.

The Aes Sedai, as always, were an oddity to most. Woman of power and mystery, feared and revered by those who didn't understand their purpose.

But Elyndria didn’t mind the stares. In truth, she relished the opportunity to prove herself as part of the Green Ajah.

One woman in particular caught her attention; an imposing figure that stood out from the rest, her dark, deep-set eyes watching everyone around her in a calculating manner. Elyndria recognized her immediately.

“Alanna Mosvani,” Saerel said, a hint of familiarity in her voice. “A sister of the Green Ajah. I believe she’s been assigned to the mission as well.”

Alanna Mosvani approached them with a swift, purposeful stride, her green shawl flowing behind her. The woman’s gaze was intense, her presence commanding as she greeted them both with a curt nod.

“Saerel,” Alanna said, her voice low and smooth. “Good to see you again. Elyndria, welcome to the mission. I hear you’re making quite a name for yourself among the Green.”

Elyndria smiled, though it was tempered by the respect Alanna's eyes demanded. “Thank you, Aes Sedai.”

Alanna studied her for a moment longer, then gave a faint nod. “I expect no less from a sister of the Green. We will see how you fare when the time comes to face the Trollocs.”

Elyndria could sense the underlying challenge in Alanna’s words. She wasn’t just welcoming her, she was testing her. But Elyndria didn’t flinch. She had the confidence of her training, the lessons Saerel had taught her. She was ready for whatever the mission would throw at her.

As the caravan prepared to leave, Saerel leaned closer to Elyndria, her voice low and private. “Remember, Elyndria, we fight to protect the world. The Trollocs are a threat we cannot ignore. But there are many ways to serve. Sometimes, it’s not just about the fight. It’s about the strategy, the patience.”

Elyndria nodded, understanding the weight behind Saerel’s words. The Green Ajah fought with both strength and wisdom. She had a part to play in this, she was not just there to charge headlong into battle. She had to observe, learn, and adapt.

The caravan set off, the wagons creaking as they began the long journey northward. Elyndria walked beside Saerel, the two of them chatting quietly as the landscape changed around them.

The distant mountains loomed on the horizon, their jagged peaks rising against the sky. The air grew colder as they neared the borderlands, and Elyndria felt the tension in the air.

Despite the camaraderie of the caravan, there was a palpable unease.

The travelers eyed the Aes Sedai with wary respect, some keeping their distance while others tried to hide their fear. It was not uncommon. Aes Sedai were both feared and revered, their power a source of awe and suspicion.

As night fell, the caravan set up camp near a small clearing in the woods. The firelight flickered against the darkening sky, casting long shadows over the gathered travelers. Elyndria helped with the preparations, setting up a small perimeter for the camp.

As the others settled in around the fire, she noticed the way the caravan treated her and Saerel; a mixture of wariness and respect. They were necessary, but the strangers didn’t quite trust them.

Alanna, however, seemed completely at ease, as though she had been part of the caravan for years. She spoke with the merchants and drivers as if they were old friends, though Elyndria could sense an underlying calculation in her manner.

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Alanna joined them by the fire, her two warders at her side, Ihvon and Maksim. Elyndria couldn’t help but glance at the two men. Ihvon, a tall man with dark eyes and a shaved head, stood with an air of quiet intensity. Maksim, on the other hand, was solidly built, his wavy blonde hair falling just over his brow, and his piercing blue eyes watching everything with a sharp awareness.

The bond between Alanna and her warders was clear—unspoken but undeniable. The way they moved together, the way they shared a quiet understanding, spoke volumes about their deep connection.

Maksim gave a brief nod to Elyndria before his gaze returned to the fire. Ihvon's dark eyes flicked over her briefly, but it was Alanna who spoke.

“This mission will test us all, Elyndria,” Alanna said, her voice low but steady. “The Trollocs are a menace, yes, but there is more at play here. We’ll need to be ready for whatever comes.”

Elyndria nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

She had always known that the Green Ajah fought with strength and skill, but there was something about Alanna and her warders that added another layer to the equation.

The bond between them, their connection, was powerful and raw—a reminder that the strength of an Aes Sedai could be just as much about unity as it was about power. They stayed by the fire for a few moments talking with Saerel before the three of them left, Alanna walking in front as her warders walked behind her almost like shadows.

“You’re doing well, Elyndria.” Saerel spoke, interrupting the silence that lingered after the three had left. “But remember—this is a time for patience. The Trollocs are dangerous, but we cannot fight blindly. You’ll need to learn when to wait, when to act. Watch Alanna closely. She’s... different. She leads with an iron will.”

Elyndria nodded, watching Alanna across the campfire, noting the way the other Aes Sedai interacted with the caravan members.

Saerel’s gaze softened. “Don’t worry, Elyndria. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together. The Green Ajah fights with strength, yes. But we also fight with the mind. Use both.”

Elyndria smiled at Saerel, grateful for her mentor’s words. They shared a silent understanding in that moment—the understanding of two Green Aes Sedai who would stand together in battle, not just with strength, but with strategy and wisdom. As the night deepened and the fire crackled, Elyndria felt a sense of purpose settle deep in her chest.

She had chosen the Green Ajah because it resonated with who she wanted to be; strong, determined, ready to defend the world.

As the evening unfolded, the campfire’s crackling glow illuminated the faces of the travelers, each lost in their thoughts or absorbed in quiet conversation.

Elyndria found herself struggling to stay awake as she sat beside Saerel, watching the flickering light play over the leaves, her thoughts drifting between the upcoming mission and what she had faced in her trails. Especially her last trial, one that she still had not begun to understand.

Saerel sat beside her, her green shawl catching the wind, and her posture relaxed. Yet, there was a certain stillness to her, an unspoken weight that Elyndria had sensed when they had sat down by the campfire.

“Are you alright, Saerel?” Elyndria asked, her voice soft, yet filled with concern.

Saerel's gaze shifted to Elyndria, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She had been glancing over at some of the other green Aes Sedi and their warders. She took a slow breath, as if deciding whether or not to speak. Her brown eyes held a distant sadness for a moment, a memory that only she knew.

“I was thinking about something,” Saerel said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Something I’ve not shared with many.”

Elyndria gave her full attention, knowing this was something important.

She had come to realize that Saerel was not the type to reveal her vulnerabilities easily, yet the woman had always been a steady guide in Elyndria's training—strong and composed, even in the face of danger.

“I had a warder once,” Saerel continued, her tone distant. “His name was Alden, a man from the area near the White Tower. We were close, very close. We grew up together. When I became an Aes Sedai, he became my warder. He was strong, brave, and... kind. We fought side by side in many battles. But during a skirmish against the Shadow’s forces, Alden...” Saerel paused, her voice wavering slightly as she looked down at her hands. “He died. I couldn’t save him.”

Elyndria’s heart ached as she saw the sorrow in Saerel’s eyes, the raw pain of a loss that had never fully healed. The Green Aes Sedai had always been so composed, so unwavering in her strength. To see this softer, more vulnerable side of her was a rare glimpse into a part of her Saerel rarely showed.

“It broke something inside me,” Saerel continued, her voice steadying. “I couldn’t bear to bond with another after that. The bond between an Aes Sedai and her warder... it’s not just a bond of protection. It’s deeper, more personal. And when Alden died, part of me died too.” She gave a small, sad smile. “It’s why I’ve never taken another warder. I’ve always been... an oddity among the Greens for that reason.”

Elyndria sat in silence, the weight of Saerel’s words sinking into her heart.

She could see the deep pain that lingered beneath her mentor’s calm exterior, a wound that time had not fully healed. Saerel had become so strong despite her loss, but she had also shut off part of herself, refusing to allow the bond to form again.

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too painful,” Elyndria said quietly, placing a gentle hand on Saerel’s shoulder.

Saerel shook her head, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “No, it’s alright. You’re the only one who’s asked. I think... it’s important that you understand. You’ll be in the field soon. There will be times when you’ll have to decide if you want a warder by your side.”

Elyndria frowned slightly, her mind racing with the idea. "Do you think I should have one?" she asked, her voice hesitant. “A warder, I mean.”

Saerel gave her a knowing look, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It’s a decision only you can make, Elyndria. Some Aes Sedai bond with their warders immediately. Some take time, like me. And some... never take a warder. The bond can be a source of immense strength, but it also comes with its burdens."

Elyndria’s mind raced as she considered the idea.

A bond with a warder; someone who would be connected to her in a way no one else ever could. She could feel the weight of that thought, the depth of intimacy such a connection required.

"I don’t know if I could do it," Elyndria admitted quietly, her voice distant. "The idea of being so close to someone, in that way... it’s unsettling. It feels... overwhelming, to give someone that much access to my thoughts, to my feelings."

Saerel nodded, her expression understanding. “It’s not something to be taken lightly. Not just anyone can bond with a warder, not truly. The bond is a deep one, a merging of minds and spirits. And it requires a level of trust, of vulnerability, that not everyone is ready for.” She studied Elyndria for a moment, her gaze gentle but firm. “But it may come in time. When you’re ready. Maybe not now. But perhaps someday.”

Elyndria met Saerel’s gaze, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for her mentor’s wisdom. She could see the depth of pain in Saerel’s eyes, but also the quiet strength in her acceptance of that pain. She had chosen not to take another warder, but that didn’t make her any less of a force to be reckoned with.

"Thank you for telling me this," Elyndria said softly. "I’ll think about it. But... it’s a big decision."

Saerel smiled, her usual calm and collected demeanor returning. "You’re welcome, Elyndria. And take your time. The bond is sacred. When you do decide, it will be when you are ready. Just remember that a warder is not just a protector—they are a companion, someone who will fight beside you, who will share the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Elyndria nodded, her thoughts swirling as she looked toward the fire, the crackling flames reflecting the uncertainties and possibilities ahead. She wasn’t sure if she would ever form a bond with a warder, but the thought lingered with her.

Maybe someday.

For now, she had her mission with Saerel and the rest of the Green Ajah. And that was enough.

---

As the days passed, the caravan pressed onward, their journey towards the borderlands growing increasingly treacherous.

Elyndria, though still in the early stages of her journey as a Green Aes Sedai, felt her confidence steadily growing with each passing mile. The land around them became more rugged, and the air, once crisp and clear, grew thick with the smell of the Blight.

Each night, as the caravan set up camp, Elyndria took her watch seriously, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger, both from the natural world and the ever-present threat of Trollocs. She was not alone in her vigilance. Saerel, ever the guide, kept a careful eye on the camp, always ensuring that the right precautions were taken.

Alanna, meanwhile, took a more relaxed approach, her presence in the camp a constant, unwavering force. She made the rounds with her two warders, always speaking to the merchant leaders and the drivers, gathering intelligence with an ease that made Elyndria admire her even more.

The bond between Alanna and her warders, Ihvon and Maksim, remained an enigma for Elyndria. It wasn’t just the physical connection of a bonded pair; it was something deeper, more intuitive. They moved as a unit, the unspoken understanding between them palpable. Whenever the group stopped for the night, Alanna’s warders kept close, always within arm’s reach, their vigilant eyes scanning for danger. Ihvon’s silent intensity contrasted with Maksim’s more approachable, yet no less sharp, demeanor.

Elyndria couldn’t help but notice the way the two men interacted with their Aes Sedai; protective but not overbearing, respectful but not subservient.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Saerel approached Elyndria by the fire.

The sounds of the caravan settling in for the night filled the air—merchants talking in low voices, children playing, and the occasional bark of a dog. The warmth of the fire crackled in the silence between them.

"You've been on watch long enough," Saerel said, her green shawl fluttering lightly in the evening breeze. "It's time to rest. You've earned it."

Elyndria didn’t argue. Her eyes were tired, and the constant tension of being on high alert had started to take its toll. She was still getting used to the role of being a full-fledged Aes Sedai, and the weight of that responsibility, especially as part of the Green Ajah, felt different when she was out in the field. She sat down beside Saerel, her legs sore from walking all day.

"How are you holding up?" Saerel asked, her eyes soft yet sharp, always watching.

Elyndria stretched her legs out in front of her, glancing at the flames. "It's harder than I thought. The constant vigilance, the weight of being in the field with Aes Sedai like Alanna… She's incredible. But sometimes I wonder if I’m ready for this. I’m not sure I have the same… confidence she does."

Saerel smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "Confidence is earned, Elyndria. In battle, in the field, it comes from the choices you make, not the power you wield. You’re learning that now, in this mission. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about being adaptable. Alanna has learned that over years of experience. One day, you will too."

Elyndria nodded, absorbing the wisdom in Saerel’s words. She didn’t expect to be like Alanna right away. The Green Aes Sedai had years of battle experience, but she had never let that intimidate Elyndria.

She knew Saerel was right. Confidence came with time.

---

The next few days passed in a tense but careful rhythm. The further they moved into the borderlands, the more Elyndria could feel the presence of the Blight. A festering wound on the land. There were signs of recent Trolloc activity, and the landscape was scarred with the corruption of the Blight. The trees were twisted and gnarled, their leaves dark and unhealthy. The air itself seemed thick with dread.

One afternoon, as the caravan trudged along the narrow, winding path, a scout came riding back toward them, his horse galloping hard. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear.

“Trollocs,” he gasped. “They're close. We have to stop.”

Alanna immediately went into action.

"Everyone, prepare to defend yourselves!" she commanded, her voice a low, commanding rumble that cut through the tension.

Ihvon and Maksim moved without a word, already positioning themselves to protect her. Alanna's green shawl fluttered as she stepped forward, meeting Saerel’s eyes in a silent exchange of readiness.

Elyndria, for the first time, felt the weight of the Green Ajah’s responsibility settle over her fully. This wasn’t just a test of power. This was a test of resolve, of strategy, and of leadership.

Saerel's hand rested on her shoulder, a reassuring gesture. "Ready yourself. Do not be reckless. Protect those who cannot protect themselves. But remember strategy is just as important as strength."

As the caravan scrambled to form a defensive perimeter, Elyndria stood beside Saerel, her mind clearing as she focused. She would weave the One Power. This was her strength, the strength of the Green Ajah.

Her fingers tingled with anticipation, and she could feel the flow of the Source brushing against her. There would be no sword. There would only be the weave.

The distant roars of the Trollocs grew louder.

The first sight of them emerged over the ridgeline; grotesque, massive shapes with shaggy fur and gnashing teeth, pouring toward them like a flood of shadows. Their sounds were guttural, and their eyes were filled with savage intent. They came in droves, their numbers pressing the defenders hard.

Alanna moved with the precision of a master, her warders forming a solid defense around her. As the Trollocs drew nearer, Alanna, Ihvon, and Maksim took their places, weapons in hand, ready to fight, but Elyndria’s attention was focused elsewhere.

Her mind was already working, drawing on the knowledge Saerel had instilled in her, drawing in the One Power. She wove Air first, a vast and tight net that swept out from her, binding the movement of the Trollocs.

She could feel the resistance as they charged against the weave, their heavy bodies pushing against the invisible forces, but she held firm. The weave strengthened, pulling them back, slowing their advance.

She could see them now, their wide eyes filled with hate as they struggled against her barrier.

Elyndria could feel her concentration falter for a moment, the strain of holding so many at bay with such a vast weave. She was still learning her limits.

With a surge of determination, she called on Fire. The weave spiraled into her hands, twisting into a sharp, concentrated stream.

She thrust her hands forward, and a line of fire shot out, sizzling through the air and crashing into the first line of Trollocs. The explosion was deafening, flames licking at the creatures, causing them to stumble and screech in pain. She could feel the heat of the flames on her face, her heartbeat pounding in her chest. They were powerful: this was what the Green Ajah stood for. A blend of offense and strategy, mind and strength.

But more came, crashing through the trees, howling in fury.

Elyndria didn’t hesitate.

She wove again, this time pulling in Water and Earth. She shaped the weaves quickly, threading them through the other two elements as though they were second nature to her. The ground beneath the Trollocs’ feet erupted, sharp stones breaking free from the earth and rising to strike.

The Trollocs screamed as the jagged rocks pierced their bodies, sending several crashing to the ground.

Elyndria felt the One Power coursing through her like never before, her heart in sync with the flow of the elements. Her hands moved fluidly as she weaved again, this time pulling Air to create a barrier that pressed the Trollocs into a tight cluster, isolating them from the rest of the caravan.

She could hear the shouts and clattering of weapons as the other Aes Sedai, led by Alanna and Saerel, joined in, but Elyndria was already lost in the intensity of the battle.

Alanna’s voice cut through the chaos, low and commanding. "Stay focused, Elyndria! Keep them contained!" Her words were sharp, but Elyndria could feel the respect beneath the order. Alanna trusted her.

The Trollocs were relentless, but Elyndria held her ground, her weaves slicing through them like a hot knife through butter. The bond to the Green Ajah was solid, strengthening with each successful strike.

She was part of this force.

She was meant for this.

But even as the battle waged on, Elyndria knew that it wasn’t over. More would come; more would test her resolve. And she would stand firm.

The last of the Trollocs fell, their bodies scattered and lifeless, their roars silenced.

The camp settled back into uneasy silence, the distant crackling of fire the only sound for a moment.

Elyndria stood tall, breathless but unbowed. Her hands trembled from the effort, but the satisfaction of having played her part made her pulse race.

Saerel, ever observant, stepped beside her.

"You did well, Elyndria. You held the line. This is what we do. This is the Green Ajah." Her voice was low but filled with pride.

Elyndria exhaled slowly, her chest rising and falling. "It wasn’t easy," she admitted. "But it feels right."

Saerel’s eyes softened, and she placed a hand on Elyndria’s shoulder. "The first battle is always the hardest. But you’ll see, Elyndria, the more you fight, the more you’ll understand the balance between the strength and the mind. The Green Ajah isn’t just about throwing fire and lightning. It’s about knowing when to strike and when to wait."

As the camp began to settle down, the caravan members cautiously resumed their activities. The tension had eased, but the respect that had once been fear now ran through their eyes.

They understood now. Aes Sedai were not mere figures of legend. They were forces to be reckoned with.

Elyndria felt the quiet thrill of success, but it was tempered by the understanding that the fight wasn’t over. There would be more battles ahead. But with Saerel by her side and Alanna’s watchful presence, she knew she was on the right path.

Later as the firelight flickered and the sounds of the caravan surrounded them, Elyndria sat down next to Saerel. The older woman was studying her with a calm expression, but there was approval in her gaze. Elyndria could feel it. She had proven herself today. Not just as an Aes Sedai, but as someone who was truly a part of the Green Ajah.

And as the stars began to dot the night sky, Elyndria felt a deep sense of purpose settle within her. She was ready for whatever came next.

---

The night fell deeper, the fire crackling softly as the distant sounds of the caravan settling down for the night surrounded them.

Elyndria took a moment to gather herself, the exhaustion of the battle creeping into her muscles, but her mind remained alert. She couldn’t let her guard down—not yet.

She glanced over at Saerel, who had pulled herself a bit to the side, watching the camp with a quiet intensity. There was no fear, no doubt in her eyes—just the steady, watchful gaze of an Aes Sedai who had seen countless battles and dangers.

"Elyndria," Saerel said after a long pause, her voice low, "you did well today. The way you handled yourself, using the One Power so effectively, it speaks volumes about your training. But do not get complacent."

Elyndria nodded, understanding the underlying message. They’d fought the Trollocs, yes but this was only one skirmish. There would be more. There always were.

Saerel’s gaze turned distant, her eyes narrowing as she stared into the fire. "The Green Ajah is more than just fighting. It’s about protecting, preserving, and even when it is darkest, knowing when to strike and when to wait."

Elyndria thought about those words, the truth in them sinking deep into her mind. She was learning fast. But with every lesson, she understood more than being Green wasn’t just about rushing into the fray with weapons or firepower. It was a blend of intelligence, instinct, and control. She wasn’t there to simply fight; she was there to protect.

As Saerel turned her attention back to the camp, Elyndria’s thoughts drifted to the future, to her place in the Green Ajah, to what was ahead for her. She had made her choice. She was a Green Aes Sedai. But there were still many things to learn.

She glanced around the camp, noticing how the caravan members now watched the Aes Sedai with more respect. The tension that had clouded their eyes earlier was gone, replaced by a silent acknowledgment. There was no fear in their gazes now. They understood that the Aes Sedai were the protectors, the ones who would fight the shadows when they appeared.

And Elyndria would be among them. She was part of the Green Ajah.

This was her purpose.

The crackling of the fire beside her pulled her from her thoughts. Saerel had stood up now, walking toward the rest of the Aes Sedai who were discussing the next steps. Elyndria lingered for a moment, watching her mentor, before pushing herself to her feet and following her.

As she joined Saerel by the fire, she saw Alanna conversing with the caravan leader, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon as if she already knew where the next threat would come from. Her warders stood close by, observing their surroundings with the same focused intensity as their bondmate.

Elyndria felt a wave of admiration for the Green Aes Sedai. Alanna, Saerel, and all the others who had chosen this path—they were powerful, yes, but more than that, they were survivors. They knew the cost of battle and the sacrifices made, but they continued on because the world needed them.

And Elyndria, in that moment, knew deep down she was exactly where she was meant to be.

The caravan moved on the following morning, the weight of the last night’s battle lingering in the air, but not enough to stop their progress. They continued north, closer to the borderlands.

With each day, Elyndria’s connection to the One Power grew stronger, her confidence in her abilities flourishing. She knew that soon, she would face more than just skirmishes with Trollocs—greater dangers, darker forces awaited.

And she would be ready.

Chapter 6: Flames Against the Shadow

The days stretched on, the journey northward filled with both quiet moments and constant vigilance.

The caravan, with its strange mix of merchants, travelers, and Aes Sedai, continued to move through the barren, windswept landscape. Elyndria had become accustomed to the rhythm of the travel. Long stretches of silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of conversation or the creaking of the wagons.

Saerel was always nearby, her presence a steadying force. She was a mentor, a protector, and in some ways, a quiet reminder of the path Elyndria had chosen.

Each day, Elyndria found herself growing into her role as a Green Aes Sedai more fully. She had learned to wield the One Power with increasing confidence, but it was her tactical mind, the strategic sense Saerel had nurtured in her, that truly began to shine. She had learned to sense the ebb and flow of danger, to anticipate moves before they were made.

The sense of readiness was in the air.

Though the caravan was still peaceful, Elyndria could feel it—a ripple beneath the surface, as if the land itself was waiting for something to happen.

One evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned shades of pink and gold, Saerel motioned for Elyndria to join her near the fire.

The rest of the Aes Sedai were gathered in a quiet circle, speaking in hushed tones about the reports they had received from the caravan’s scouts.

The Trollocs were drawing nearer.

As Elyndria approached, she saw Alanna sitting cross-legged, speaking with one of her Warders. Ihvon, tall and imposing, sat with his hands resting on his knees, his eyes scanning the shadows around them. Maksim, the other Warder, was standing just beyond them, his gaze never straying too far from the horizon.

“You’ve been quiet,” Saerel noted as Elyndria settled beside her.

“I’ve been thinking,” Elyndria admitted. “About what happens next. We’re getting closer to the Blight. The Trollocs... they won’t be the only thing we face, will they?”

Saerel’s eyes locked with hers. “No. There’s always more. But we’ll face it, together.”

The other Aes Sedai didn’t look up, but the weight of their words filled the air. The time was nearing when they would need to decide how they would fight. Elyndria knew that this mission, this first real test, would be crucial. It was the moment when she would truly prove her worth to the Green Ajah and to herself.

Just as Saerel opened her mouth to continue, the sudden, sharp cry of a scout pierced the air.

The camp immediately fell into an alert silence.

“They’re coming,” a voice called out, urgent and sharp. The ground shook with the sound of boots pounding on the earth as men and women scrambled to prepare.

Elyndria’s pulse quickened. She turned to Saerel, who gave her a quick, knowing glance. It was time.

“You’re ready, Elyndria,” Saerel said quietly, before standing. “Gather your things.”

As the Aes Sedai readied themselves, Elyndria felt a surge of power, a tightness in her chest.

She was calm now, the adrenaline mixing with the bond to the One Power. This was what she was made for. She felt no fear. Only the quiet, focused energy of battle.

The first to strike were the Trollocs.

Their shadowed forms emerged from the trees as the sound of their thunderous steps rattled the earth. They were huge, monstrous creatures, half-man, half-beast, with wild eyes and a hunger that could be felt even from a distance.

Elyndria’s hand went to her belt, where she kept a small stone that helped her focus her weavings.

“Saerel,” Elyndria called as she stepped toward her mentor.

The air around them was thick with the looming threat. She could see Alanna already moving, the flames of battle beginning to burn bright in her eyes.

Saerel’s face was steely, and for a moment, Elyndria saw something different; something fierce and untamed. “It’s time, Elyndria. Let them feel our strength.”

With a single nod, Elyndria stepped forward, channeling the One Power. She felt it surge through her like a tide, the familiar strength building in her chest as she wove the strands of air and fire. The weave coalesced, and a shield of fire erupted before her, crackling with energy.

The first Trolloc rushed toward them with a guttural roar, its blade raised high. Elyndria released the weave, sending a streak of flame toward the beast. It screeched as the fire burned its flesh, but it didn’t stop. Its resolve seemed endless.

Alanna, with her Warders at her side, was already in motion. Maksim swung his blade in a sharp arc, his powerful strikes cutting down two of the Trollocs in swift succession. Ihvon was a blur of motion, his movements swift and precise as he sent another Trolloc sprawling with a well-placed strike.

Elyndria felt the weight of the battle pressing down on her, but she was prepared. With a quick flick of her wrist, she wove another shield, this time of air, to block an incoming arrow aimed at Saerel. The weave snapped tight, and the arrow ricocheted off harmlessly.

She could feel the heat of the battle in the air, the rush of power and fear, but she did not falter. This was her path now. She had chosen it, and she would not allow herself to fail.

“Keep focused, Elyndria!” Saerel shouted over the roar of battle. “The mind is our greatest weapon!”

Elyndria didn’t need to be told twice.

Her focus narrowed even further as she spotted another Trolloc coming toward her. This one was different, a large, hulking beast, its eyes bloodshot and frenzied. It towered over her, its face twisted in a grotesque sneer.

She raised her hand, weaving quickly, drawing on the One Power as her fingers moved. The air seemed to thicken around her, and with a decisive push, she sent the weave hurtling toward the creature. A wall of air shot forward, slamming the Trolloc backward with such force that it crashed to the ground with a deafening thud.

The camp fell into a grim silence.

The battle was over for now, but the toll had been taken. Bodies lay scattered across the battlefield; Trollocs, merchants, and even some of the Aes Sedai’s comrades.

Saerel stood beside Elyndria, her gaze sweeping over the field. She said nothing for a long moment, the stillness between them heavy. Finally, she spoke.

“You did well. Very well, Elyndria.”

Elyndria met her mentor’s gaze, a small, exhausted smile tugging at her lips. “It wasn’t just me. We did this together.”

Saerel smiled in return, pride gleaming in her eyes. “Indeed. Together, we fight.”

As the fires of the battlefield died down and the survivors began to regroup, Elyndria knew that this was only the beginning. The path she had chosen, the weight of the Green Ajah’s mantle, would never be easy. But as she stood there, shoulder to shoulder with Saerel and the others, she felt an undeniable sense of purpose.

She had proven herself today, and she would continue to do so.

---

 

The firelight flickered in the distance, casting long shadows over the field as the Aes Sedai and their Warders gathered around to tend to the wounded. The aftermath of the battle was always a mix of quiet reflection and urgent action.

Elyndria stood beside Saerel, her eyes scanning the horizon, as the last of the Trollocs were dragged away and the wounded were carefully tended to.

Saerel was quietly speaking with Alanna, their words low and urgent, but Elyndria couldn’t help but overhear fragments of their conversation.

"Good work today, Alanna," Saerel said, her voice firm but carrying a hint of respect. "You handled the Trollocs well, as always."

Alanna’s lips curled into a faint smile. "We all did our part, Saerel. But Elyndria, she’s quick with her weavings. I was impressed."

Elyndria felt her chest swell with pride, but she didn’t let it show on her face.

Instead, she turned her attention to the wounded, her mind working. She had no time to rest, not now. The battle had been won, but it was only a brief victory. There were still dangers lurking just beyond the horizon.

Elyndria’s thoughts were interrupted by a soft hand on her arm. She turned to see Maksim standing beside her. His broad shoulders and wavy blonde hair made him a striking figure, but it was his blue eyes that held her attention; cool and calculating, but with showing a certain warmth as he looked down at her.

"You handled yourself well today," he said, his voice steady but with a touch of admiration.

Elyndria nodded, though she was aware of how little time had passed since the battle had ended. "It was a team effort."

Maksim smiled. "True. But don’t sell yourself short. I’ve seen many Aes Sedai on the field, and not all of them are as quick with the Power as you are. You’ll make a fine addition to the Green Ajah."

Her heart fluttered at the compliment. "Thank you, Maksim."

He clapped her gently on the shoulder. "It’s rare to see someone so young with such confidence. Keep that edge, Elyndria. We need it."

Before she could respond, a figure appeared beside them—Alanna, with Ihvon at her side. Alanna gave a brief nod to Elyndria before speaking to Saerel.

"The last of the Trollocs have been dealt with," Alanna said, her tone businesslike. "But there’s something else I need to discuss. A few of the scouts reported more activity further north. We should move tonight while the element of surprise is still on our side."

Saerel’s gaze darkened. "How far are we from the Blight?"

"Not far enough," Alanna replied, her voice cool but tinged with concern. "The Blight is a poison, spreading farther and farther south. If we don’t move quickly, the Trollocs will be the least of our worries."

Saerel nodded, her face grim. "We’ll pack up and move at first light. Get some rest while you can. We’re in for a long journey."

As the camp began to settle for the night, Elyndria found herself at the edge of the clearing, gazing out into the darkness. The weight of the battle was heavy on her shoulders, but she knew this was only the beginning. The Green Ajah had sworn to defend the world, and the dangers were only growing.

She felt a presence beside her and turned to see Saerel standing silently, her sharp green eyes reflecting the flickering firelight.

"Something on your mind, Elyndria?" Saerel asked, her tone gentle but knowing.

Elyndria hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I’ve been thinking about... about everything. About being Green. About the Power and the battles to come. I know we fight to protect, but sometimes it feels like we’re always chasing the next danger, the next battle. How do we know when we’ve done enough?"

Saerel’s expression softened, and she leaned against a nearby tree, crossing her arms. "We never know, Elyndria. That’s the burden of being Aes Sedai. We fight for what’s right, even when we don’t know if it will ever be enough. The world is filled with darkness, and our role is to hold that darkness back—whether it’s Trollocs, Darkfriends, or whatever else may come."

"But sometimes I wonder," Elyndria said, her voice quiet, "if we’re only just putting out fires, always reacting. Is there a way to stop it before it even starts?"

Saerel studied her for a long moment.

"There are no easy answers to that, Elyndria. We do what we can, when we can. The world may be dark, but we fight because it’s the only way to keep the light alive. It’s not about knowing when it’s enough. It’s about knowing that, for today, we’ve done what we could."

Elyndria thought on her words, the weight of her mentor’s wisdom settling into her heart.

"You’re not alone in this," Saerel added softly. "None of us are. And as long as we stand together, we’ll find a way through the darkness."

Elyndria nodded, though her thoughts were still heavy. She wasn’t sure if she could ever truly be at peace with the never-ending cycle of battle and danger. But for now, she could take comfort in the bond she had with Saerel and the other sisters.

As the camp began to quiet down, Elyndria made her way back to her tent. The distant sounds of the caravan settled around her, and the night air felt cooler than it had earlier in the day.

Despite the exhaustion settling in her bones, she was ready. Ready to fight, ready to protect, ready to continue her journey. And tomorrow, when the first light of dawn touched the horizon, she would be there, standing alongside her sisters—Green, strong, and unyielding.

The path ahead was uncertain, and the darkness was ever-growing, but Elyndria knew one thing for sure: the Green Ajah would be there, always. And she would stand with them.

The cool night air seemed to hold a quiet anticipation as Elyndria settled into her tent, the rustling of the wind against the trees outside a constant reminder of the world beyond the firelight.

She had never felt so aware of the weight of her responsibilities, nor had she felt so alive with purpose. The days ahead would test her, of that she was certain, but there was no turning back now. She had chosen this path, the path of the Green Ajah, and with that choice came the understanding that she would stand strong, no matter what came.

As she lay in her bedroll, her thoughts began to drift, but they kept returning to Saerel’s words. About the never-ending fight, about standing together.

Elyndria had always known that Aes Sedai were bound to the world’s struggles, but the reality of it, the constant movement, the dangers lurking just out of sight, were clearer now than they had ever been before.

She had been trained for battle, trained in the ways of the Power, but nothing had quite prepared her for the sheer weight of what it meant to be Green. It was more than just strength—it was strategy, wisdom, patience. She wasn’t just to be a weapon to wield; she had to be a protector, a strategist, and a sister in arms.

A soft knock at her tent flap stirred her from her thoughts. She stood quickly, smoothing out her dress before pulling the flap open. Standing there was Saerel, her expression serious but warm.

"Couldn't sleep?" Saerel asked, her voice carrying the faintest hint of a smile.

Elyndria shook her head. "Too much on my mind, I suppose. The weight of it all."

Saerel’s eyes softened, and she stepped inside the tent. "It's normal, you know. Feeling like the weight of the world rests on your shoulders. Every Green feels it. It doesn't get easier, but it becomes more familiar."

Elyndria sat back down on her bedroll, grateful for Saerel’s presence. "I thought it would feel different. But... it feels like the beginning of something, not the end."

Saerel nodded. "That’s because it is. The trials never end, Elyndria. Each new mission, each new battle, each new challenge is just another step in your journey. But you’ve already proven yourself by making it this far. You’re ready for what’s next. And you’ll continue to prove yourself, not just to others, but to yourself."

The words held weight, more so than any battle cry or speech. Elyndria felt them sink into her heart.

She had always been determined, but the journey ahead wasn’t about just proving her strength. It was about proving her worth in the eyes of those who mattered and in her own eyes.

"You've been a mentor to me, Saerel," Elyndria said quietly, looking up at the older woman. "I don’t think I would be here without you."

Saerel smiled, the faintest glimmer of pride in her eyes. "And you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have what it takes, Elyndria. Just remember, we don't do this alone. Not now, not ever."

Before Elyndria could respond, Saerel gave a quiet laugh, her eyes glinting. "Besides, Alanna would probably throw a fit if I didn’t take you along on the next phase of this mission. She's already claimed that she’s looking forward to seeing how you handle yourself in the next fight."

Elyndria’s lips curved into a smile at the thought of Alanna. The Green Aes Sedai had been direct and even intimidating at times, but Elyndria had sensed a certain respect in the woman’s eyes. Perhaps Saerel wasn’t the only one watching her progress.

"Then I suppose we’ll have to see if I can live up to her expectations," Elyndria replied.

Saerel’s smile widened. "You will. But don’t be too hard on yourself. Alanna may be a formidable sister, but she’s not the only one watching you. Everyone in the Green Ajah is, in one way or another."

Elyndria frowned slightly. "You make it sound like there’s a competition."

"There is," Saerel said, her voice soft but sure. "Not just between you and the other Aes Sedai, but between you and yourself. The moment you stop striving to be better is the moment you stop being an Aes Sedai. But that’s not the same as saying you have to be perfect."

The older woman’s words hit deep.

Elyndria had often wondered what it meant to truly be Aes Sedai.

Was it the Power?

Was it the trials?

Was it the tests, the oaths, the green shawl?

Saerel’s words suggested that it was more than just that—it was about constantly growing, learning, and challenging oneself to be better, even in the face of failure.

With a sigh, Elyndria leaned back, glancing up at the stars visible through the tent opening. "I think I’m starting to understand."

Saerel stepped to the entrance, glancing back at her. "Good. Now, get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, and we need you sharp."

Elyndria nodded, rising to her feet. "Thank you, Saerel."

The older woman smiled; her eyes warm with pride. "You’ll do fine, Elyndria. We all believe in you."

As Saerel left, Elyndria stood there for a moment, letting the words settle into her heart. The weight of the path she had chosen was not one she could ever escape. But it was hers to walk, and with Saerel’s words in her mind, she was ready to face whatever came next.

The night passed quietly, and by the time the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Elyndria was already preparing for the next leg of their journey.

There would be battles ahead, of that she was certain, but now she knew that her strength wasn’t just in the Power she wielded. It was in the choices she made, in the way she learned to stand beside those she trusted, and in the strength to protect the world she had sworn to defend.

With the Green shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her mind set on the trials yet to come, Elyndria was ready.

Ready to face the unknown. Ready to fight, to weave, and to grow.

And as the day began, the future stretched out before her; full of possibility and promise. She had chosen this path. And now, there was no turning back.

As the sun broke the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Elyndria packed her things with methodical precision.

The early morning light was soft but held an unspoken promise of the challenges ahead. She couldn’t help but glance toward the gathering caravan, its travelers still sleepy but already preparing for the day ahead.

The air hummed with anticipation, a stark contrast to the quiet of the night before. It was the calm before a storm. At least, that’s what she had been taught.

She could feel the hum of the One Power within her, always present, always there, ready for when she needed it most. She had trained with it for so long, learning to weave with precision, to direct the flow of energy with her mind, and to use it as an extension of herself.

But this mission... this was different.

This wasn’t just about combat; it was about vigilance, about knowing when to strike and when to wait. It was about keeping calm in the face of something she still had yet to fully understand.

Saerel was already up, her green shawl draped across her shoulders like a familiar weight. She stood by the fire, speaking quietly to Alanna Mosvani, who was once again the embodiment of confidence.

She appeared at ease with the caravan members, exchanging pleasantries with the drivers and merchants, even sharing a laugh with a few of the younger travelers. Her two warders, Ihvon and Maksim, were close by, keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings, but their attentiveness seemed more like a natural part of their presence than anything forced.

Elyndria had always known the bond between an Aes Sedai and her warders was strong, intimately so. But there was something different about the bond Alanna shared with Ihvon and Maksim. It wasn’t just a functional one; it was something deeper. There was a love between them, tempered by a mutual respect that seemed to flow effortlessly. They were a unit, a force, and Elyndria couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the connection they had.

Alanna caught her eye across the camp, and her lips curled into a small, approving smile. Elyndria returned the gesture, her stomach tightening slightly. The older woman had not yet truly tested her, but Elyndria could feel the expectation in her gaze. She wasn’t just an Aes Sedai; she was a Green, a protector, a fighter.

Saerel approached her, her eyes sharp, taking in everything around her. “You’re ready?” she asked softly, her gaze flicking between Elyndria and the caravan.

“I think so,” Elyndria replied, her tone firm, though she could still feel the flutter of nerves in her stomach. “We leave soon?”

“Soon enough.” Saerel’s eyes softened slightly, and she leaned in closer. “Elyndria... There’s a lot you’ll learn out here. And not all of it will be from the Power. Trust yourself. Trust the others. And most importantly, trust that you belong here, with us, as a Green.”

Elyndria nodded, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question that had been plaguing her for some time. “Saerel, do you ever regret not taking a warder again?”

Saerel’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and Elyndria immediately regretted asking.

“I don’t regret it,” Saerel said softly, but there was a sharpness in her tone. “I’ve had a partner in the field—before and since—but some bonds are too painful to replace. Sometimes, the only thing that keeps you standing is remembering why you do it in the first place.”

Elyndria met her gaze, seeing the depth of the emotion that lurked there. “I understand,” she whispered.

After a moment of silence, Saerel gave her a small, approving nod. “You’re not alone, Elyndria. And one day, you might find that someone who compliments you in ways you never thought possible. But that is not now. Now, you’re a Green, and that comes first. Remember that.”

Alanna approached just then, her tall form casting a shadow across the campfire. “Are we ready to move out?” she asked, her voice smooth but clipped, her eyes sharp as always.

Saerel nodded. “Ready. We leave in ten minutes.”

Elyndria straightened, her hand resting briefly on the hilt of her sword, more out of habit than necessity. She could feel the threads of the One Power humming just beneath her skin, ready to weave and protect, but this mission wasn’t going to be about brute strength. It was about strategy, observation, and waiting for the right moment to act.

Alanna shot her a quick look. “Let’s see what you can do, then.”

The words were not unkind, but they were a challenge. Elyndria didn’t flinch. She had proven herself before, and she would do so again.

The caravan began to move, the wooden wheels creaking as the wagons were pulled forward by the horses. Elyndria joined Saerel and Alanna, walking beside them as the path ahead twisted through the dense forest.

Their pace was steady, but there was an undercurrent of unease in the air. The world was quiet, almost too quiet, and that stillness felt like the calm before something more dangerous.

---

 

As the day wore on, they continued through the forest, their surroundings growing eerily quiet. The merchants and drivers seemed to sense the tension, and their conversations grew muted, the occasional whisper of uncertainty carried on the wind.

Elyndria kept her senses sharp, watching the landscape around them for any sign of movement. The familiar hum of the One Power pulsed in her veins as she kept her guard up, her hand always ready to weave.

It was just as they were approaching a small clearing that the first scream pierced the air.

Alanna and Saerel instantly moved into action. The two women were as one, their movements fluid, practiced and efficient. Elyndria didn’t hesitate. Her hands were already lifting, fingers weaving threads of Fire and Air together in an intricate pattern. A brilliant bolt of flame surged from her hands, lighting up the clearing as it sped toward the source of the sound.

But even as the fireball hit its target, Elyndria felt a wave of confusion rush over her. She had seen a Trolloc, but there had been something... off about it. She couldn’t place it, but something felt wrong.

“Stay sharp!” Saerel shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos as she shielded the caravan members from further danger. “We’re not alone!”

Elyndria’s heart raced as she prepared another weave, her mind racing.

The hunt was on.

The clearing erupted into chaos as the Trollocs charged forward, their grotesque forms lumbering out of the shadows, wielding crude weapons and snarling in hunger.

Elyndria’s mind raced, but her training kicked in, grounding her. She could feel the One Power flowing through her, her hands trembling slightly with the intensity of it, but she knew she had to stay calm.

“Focus, Elyndria,” Saerel’s voice cut through the dissonant sounds of battle, sharp and commanding. “Weave it together. Fire and Earth, now!”

Elyndria responded instinctively, pulling the threads of the One Power together. Her fingers moved rapidly, weaving Air and Earth into a tight, controlled wall of stone, rising between the charging Trollocs and the caravan. The sudden barrier forced the creatures to veer to the side, blocking their direct path.

But it wasn’t enough to stop them.

The Trollocs were relentless. Elyndria could feel their fury; their desire to tear through everything in their path. But she couldn’t let them reach the caravan. Not now. Not after all they’d done to get this far.

"Watch the skies," Alanna's voice rang out, her own hands outstretched as a crackling bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips, striking down another Trolloc in a blaze of light.

Elyndria turned her focus back to the group of Trollocs trying to break through her stone wall. She needed something more, something fast. As she focused, she could feel the familiar threads of Fire flicker at the edges of her mind. She didn’t have much time.

With a sharp exhale, Elyndria lashed out with a weaving of Fire and Air. She sent a stream of flame racing across the clearing, catching one of the Trollocs square in the chest, its form instantly engulfed in fire.

The creature howled in agony, but Elyndria didn’t stop to watch as it fell to the ground.

She had to keep going.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Saerel dispatching another Trolloc, a precise weave of Earth slamming into the creature’s chest and sending it sprawling backward. But there was too much chaos; too many Trollocs, too many to fight with only a handful of Aes Sedai and a caravan of merchants.

“We need to drive them back!” Saerel shouted over the din. “Keep up the pressure!”

Elyndria felt the pulse of adrenaline as she raised her hands, drawing more of the One Power into herself. She needed a stronger weave, something that could push them back for good.

As she concentrated, a flicker of hesitation passed through her. What if the trolls kept coming, what if this wasn't enough?

Saerel caught her hesitation. Her gaze sharpened. “Do it,” she said firmly, her voice brokering no argument.

With a fierce exhale, Elyndria pushed past her doubts and began to weave with everything she had. Threads of Air twisted together with Fire, wrapping around each other like a living entity. Her hands flared with energy as the weave took shape, growing in intensity. The fireball she summoned was far more controlled than the previous one, compact but devastating.

She sent it toward the center of the Trollocs, a ball of fire and fury that tore through the ranks, sending a shockwave of heat through the clearing. The Trollocs howled in pain, many of them falling back in retreat.

But just as Elyndria thought they might break, another figure appeared from the trees—a hulking, shadowed shape that charged toward them with terrifying speed.

A Myrddraal, its eyeless face gleaming white in the firelight, raised its sword high, and its eerie screech echoed across the battlefield.

Elyndria felt a chill race down her spine.

The Myrddraal was no ordinary foe; it was an embodiment of death itself. And it was heading straight for her.

“Alanna!” Saerel shouted, but Alanna was already there, moving faster than Elyndria could track.

She raised her hand, the familiar crack of lightning streaking from her fingers, but the Myrddraal was too quick. It dodged, its form twisting unnaturally as it moved.

The Myrddraal’s hiss was almost palpable, and the air seemed to vibrate with its malice. It swung its sword at Alanna, but Maksim, her warder, intercepted the blow just in time, his large form acting as a shield. He blocked the Myrddraal’s blade with his own, but the sheer strength of the creature’s strike sent him stumbling back, his face contorted in effort.

Ihvon was already there, his eyes locked on the creature, and with a blur of movement, he struck. The Myrddraal turned toward him just as he lunged, and for a moment, it seemed as though the two of them would collide in a clash of steel.

But Elyndria wasn’t watching the battle between the warders. Her gaze was fixed on the Myrddraal, her heart pounding as she focused on the One Power.

This was her moment.

She wasn’t just standing there. She wasn’t just an observer.

Elyndria stepped forward, her hand outstretched. She drew the One Power into herself as never before. This was her fight, too.

With a swift motion, she wove Fire, Earth, and Air together, creating a blast of raw power that surged toward the Myrddraal, a searing burst that ripped through the air. The Myrddraal stumbled backward, its screeching voice turning into something guttural and strained as the weave struck it.

For a heartbeat, everything was silent.

Then the Myrddraal collapsed to the ground in a heap, its once-perfectly poised form now reduced to a twisted mass.

Elyndria gasped for air, sweat slicking her brow. Her body was alive with the rush of power she had just unleashed, but it was a power she had learned to harness, learned to control.

And she had just proven that she was ready.

As the other Aes Sedai finished off the remaining Trollocs, Saerel’s voice cut through the din. “Well done, Elyndria.”

She turned to face her mentor, her chest still heaving, and saw the approval in Saerel’s eyes. It was the kind of approval that came only after one had faced danger—and survived.

Elyndria felt her heart swell with pride, but there was no time to dwell. The battle was over for now. And the caravan would need protection still. But the victory was hers, too. It was a reminder that she was no longer just a novice, no longer just an Accepted. She was a Green Aes Sedai.

And she was ready for whatever came next.

The battle had ended, the fires of conflict slowly dying down as the last of the Trollocs fled into the woods, and the eerie silence of the aftermath settled over the camp.

The air still hummed with the remnants of the One Power, a palpable energy that seemed to linger long after the weaves had dissipated. The campfire flickered, casting long shadows across the faces of the caravan members and the Aes Sedai.

Elyndria stood near the edge of the camp, her chest rising and falling with the effort of battle. Her hands still tingled with the residue of power, the sensation both intoxicating and unsettling.

It was a strange thing, the calm after the storm, when everything in the world felt quiet, yet her pulse still thrummed in her ears.

She glanced over to where Saerel and Alanna were speaking in low tones, their eyes occasionally darting to the camp’s perimeter. The Trollocs were gone for now, but the threat of the Blight was never far off. The caravan’s few remaining guards stood alert, watching the darkening forest with vigilance, knowing the danger hadn’t truly passed.

Alanna turned and caught Elyndria’s gaze from across the camp. There was a brief flicker of something in her eyes—something unreadable—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Elyndria couldn’t shake the sense that Alanna, much like Saerel, was always measuring her, always waiting for something. But the Green Aes Sedai was a master of keeping her thoughts guarded.

"Ready to go back to the Tower?" Saerel asked, her voice carrying across the quiet evening.

Elyndria nodded, but there was a part of her that hesitated. The mission had been intense, more so than she’d anticipated, and she had proven herself in ways she hadn’t thought possible. The smell of battle, the rush of the One Power, the tension in the air. It had all felt like a fire inside her, one that pushed her forward and made her feel alive in ways she couldn’t explain.

But now that it was over, she couldn’t help but feel the familiar tug of the White Tower calling her back. The comfort of its walls, the knowledge that there was still so much more to learn, so much more to prove.

Saerel studied her for a moment, her eyes sharp as always. “You did well, Elyndria,” she said softly, a rare note of warmth in her voice. “I knew you were ready, but you’ve surpassed even my expectations.”

Elyndria smiled, though there was a hint of uncertainty in the gesture. “Thank you, Aes Sedai.”

Saerel’s lips curled slightly at the formality, but there was no mockery in her expression. Instead, quiet, knowing pride. “You’ve proven that you belong among us, Elyndria. The Green Ajah has gained a strong sister.”

“I’ll fight for us,” Elyndria said, the words coming without thought, but her resolve behind them unwavering.

Saerel’s gaze softened, and she stepped closer. “I know you will.”

The two of them stood there for a moment, the crackling fire between them the only sound. Alanna moved toward them, her eyes scanning the camp before settling on Elyndria. She seemed to pause, as though measuring the young Green sister again, but then she spoke with her characteristic bluntness.

“Time to go, I think,” Alanna said, her voice low. “The caravan will leave at first light, and we’ll be traveling back to the Tower. The Blight will wait for us. But our duty is done for now.”

Elyndria nodded and turned to gather her things. Her pack was light, but her thoughts were heavier.

The Trollocs had been a terrifying reminder of the danger the world faced, and her purpose as an Aes Sedai, as part of the Green Ajah, was to protect the world from those dangers. But there was still so much she had to learn.

Saerel and Alanna had already begun speaking in quiet tones about their next steps, but Elyndria lingered behind, staring out at the edge of the clearing where the last remnants of battle lay. The twisted, burnt forms of the Trollocs had been cleared away, and the camp now looked almost peaceful under the night sky. But Elyndria couldn’t forget the feeling of their claws, their eyes; hunger, rage, the promise of more to come.

She was part of something much larger than herself now. The Green Ajah, the Tower, the endless war that was always just over the horizon.

"Ready to head back?" Saerel’s voice broke through her thoughts. The two Aes Sedai were already preparing to leave, their motions swift and practiced.

Elyndria nodded and moved to join them.

The caravan was already packing up, the merchants and their guards moving with a mixture of urgency and relief, the immediate threat of the Trollocs vanquished, but the larger danger still looming. They had done their part.

As they moved toward the outskirts of the camp, Elyndria couldn’t help but glance back at the trees one last time. The shadows there seemed to hold secrets, whispered warnings. But she didn’t let them slow her. She had a purpose now. She wasn’t just Elyndria anymore, the novice struggling to find her way. She was Elyndria, Green Aes Sedai, ready to face whatever came next.

They left the camp behind, and the journey back to the White Tower began. The road was long, but Elyndria walked with new confidence. She had proven herself in battle, and she had proven herself to her sisters. The world was a dangerous place, but Elyndria knew she was ready for it.

With Saerel at her side and Alanna not far ahead, Elyndria’s future was clearer than it had ever been before. The path would not be easy, but it was hers to walk now.

And she would walk it with strength.

Chapter 7: Chains of the Dragon

The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the White Tower grounds. Elyndria had just finished a long morning of training and was heading back to her chambers, her thoughts wandering. The events of the past year had weighed heavily on her.

The world seemed to be changing, and she wasn’t sure if it was the same change that was affecting the White Tower, or if it was something else entirely. She had become close with Saerel and the Green Ajah, and together, they had dealt with the usual threats, from Trollocs to political scheming within the Tower.

As Elyndria walked through the familiar halls, she overheard voices coming from a door slightly ajar. It was the unmistakable sound of Saerel’s voice, low and steady, and another voice, sharp and authoritative, replied. Elyndria froze, recognizing the second voice as Moiraine’s, the Blue Aes Sedai who was often seen in the Tower. Elyndria had heard her name whispered in awe and fear, and it was no secret that she was considered one of the most powerful Aes Sedai of her generation.

The door was cracked open just enough for Elyndria to hear their conversation.

She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but something about the conversation caught her attention. She felt a strange pull to listen, as if she had to know what was being said.

“I don’t care what they say, Saerel,” Moiraine’s voice was urgent, filled with an intensity Elyndria had never heard before. “We have no choice but to act. The Dragon’s time is near. There’s no telling where, or even who, it will be.”

Saerel’s voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of tension. “I know, Moiraine, but we cannot be reckless. We don’t even know who it is, or if it's even a boy as the rumors suggest. There are whispers everywhere, but no certainty. And this—this is dangerous information. If it gets out—”

“I know,” Moiraine interrupted. Elyndria could almost hear the tension in her posture, a crack in her usual composure. “But we cannot ignore it. Not when we’re so close.”

Elyndria’s heart pounded in her chest.

The Dragon.

That word, those two words, gripped her in a way she couldn’t explain.

She’d heard the stories, of course, of the Dragon Reborn, the one who would either save the world or destroy it. But to hear it spoken of so casually, so seriously, in a conversation between two Aes Sedai she deeply respected… it was a different thing entirely.

Saerel’s voice was quieter now, almost as if she were trying to make sure no one else could hear. “We must keep this quiet. It’s too soon. We don’t know if the rumors are true. And if we’re wrong… we’ll put ourselves and the entire Tower in danger. There’s unrest, Moiraine. It’s already here.”

Elyndria’s mind raced as she tried to digest what she had just heard. The Dragon wasn’t just a myth or a distant prophecy. It was something real, something happening right now.

She had felt the shift in the Tower. She had seen the unease in the eyes of her fellow Aes Sedai, the way some would glance over their shoulders or speak in hushed tones. Now, it all made sense. They were waiting for something or someone and they didn’t know who it would be, only that the time was coming.

Moiraine’s voice came again, quieter now, almost as if she didn’t want to speak the words aloud. “What if it’s not a boy? What if it’s someone we’ve never expected?”

“We can’t risk making assumptions,” Saerel replied firmly. “We need to wait. We must be prepared. If it’s true, it will change everything. But we cannot act rashly, not yet.”

Elyndria took a step back, her heart racing.

She had to leave. She had heard too much. The conversation had made it clear that something massive was about to happen—something that could shatter the delicate balance of power within the Tower.

The Dragon was coming. Whoever it was, whatever it meant, Elyndria didn’t know. But it felt as though her world had just shifted on its axis.

As Elyndria turned to leave, the door creaked open just a little more, and the conversation stopped abruptly. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

Saerel appeared in the doorway, her sharp green eyes locking onto Elyndria’s with a knowing gaze. “Elyndria,” she said calmly, but there was a slight edge to her voice. “I trust you’ve learned something today.”

Elyndria’s stomach twisted, caught between the desire to explain and the need to remain silent. She opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words.

How could she even begin to explain what she had overheard?

How could she pretend that she hadn’t heard what she had?

Moiraine stepped into view as well, her piercing blue eyes narrowing as she studied Elyndria. “You should be more careful, child. Some things are not meant to be overheard.”

Elyndria swallowed hard. “I—I didn’t mean to... I just...” Her voice trailed off, her hands clenching at her sides.

Saerel stepped closer, her gaze softening. “It’s alright, Elyndria. But you must understand the importance of what you’ve heard. The Dragon is a secret, and it must remain so—for now. You are a part of the Green Ajah now, and you’ve proven yourself. But this… this is bigger than any of us.”

Elyndria nodded, feeling the weight of Saerel’s words. “I won’t tell anyone,” she said, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “I promise.”

Moiraine gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Keep it to yourself, Elyndria. This is not something for others to know. The Tower is already uneasy. We cannot afford more rumors.”

Saerel’s gaze lingered on Elyndria for a moment longer. “You have your duties, and they’re important. But remember this, times are changing. We’re not the only ones watching. You must be careful whom you trust. There’s unrest here, and it will only grow.”

Elyndria nodded once more, her thoughts a whirlwind.

Saerel’s words echoed in her mind, and she could feel the weight of the secret pressing down on her. She wasn’t just an Accepted anymore. She was part of something far larger.

Something dangerous.

As Moiraine and Saerel turned away, Elyndria stood frozen for a moment longer. She could still feel the pull of the word Dragon, as though something inside her recognized it, though she couldn’t explain why.

For now, she would keep the secret. She had to. But the unease in the Tower was growing, and Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change.

Elyndria stood there for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily in the air. Her heart still pounded in her chest, a strange and unsettling connection to the word Dragon lingering in her mind.

What was it about that word that pulled at her so strongly?

She didn’t know, but something deep within her stirred, as if she had heard that name before. It was as if her very soul recognized it in some distant, unexplainable way.

With a deep breath, she turned and walked quickly down the corridor, her mind racing. She needed to think. To process. She could feel the eyes of the Tower on her, though she couldn’t say why.

Times were changing. Saerel’s words echoed again in her mind: "We’re not the only ones watching."

Who was watching?

Who could she trust?

She made her way back to her chambers, but the feeling of being observed didn’t leave her. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, every footstep behind her felt more purposeful. The Tower, once a sanctuary of safety and order, now felt like a labyrinth of secrets and half-whispered truths.

Elyndria’s once-certain world was unraveling before her, and she wasn’t sure what lay on the other side.

She tried to focus on the mundane for a time; organizing her belongings, checking her training schedules but her mind kept drifting back to the conversation she’d overheard.

The Dragon. And the secrecy surrounding it.

There was no doubt in her mind now that something immense was coming. The Aes Sedai were prepared for it, but how prepared could they truly be when they didn’t know who or what they were dealing with?

The next day, as she walked through the Tower’s halls, Elyndria found herself distracted, lost in thought. The other Aes Sedai she passed seemed oblivious to the storm brewing beneath their feet.

Most of them were focused on their own business, their expressions unreadable, and yet Elyndria could sense a tension in the air.

The White Tower was a place of discipline, but there was something beneath that discipline now. A crack, a weakness forming in the foundation of something that had seemed unbreakable.

Later, she found herself in the Green Ajah’s quarters, the familiar faces of her fellow sisters offering a strange sense of comfort. Saerel was there, speaking quietly with another Green Aes Sedai, while a few of the other sisters prepared for their next mission. But Elyndria didn’t have the luxury of losing herself in their camaraderie for long.

Saerel caught her eye and motioned for her to come over. “Elyndria,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “There are more things happening in the Tower than you realize. The rumors are growing, and the tension is palpable. But you must be careful. Not everything is as it seems.”

Elyndria nodded, feeling the weight of Saerel’s words. “I understand,” she said quietly. “But… I don’t know if I can stop thinking about the Dragon. What if… What if it’s something we will become apart of?”

Saerel looked at her with a mix of understanding and caution. “I know it’s difficult. But remember this—your path is your own, Elyndria. You were chosen by the Green Ajah because of your strength and wisdom. But the world is changing, and we are all trying to navigate it. What we do now, how we react… it will shape everything. We need to be careful. Not just for ourselves, but for the world.”

Elyndria’s stomach twisted. She wanted to ask more, about the Dragon, about what she had overheard, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

---

As the days passed, the unease in the Tower only grew. The whispers grew louder, and the questions seemed to linger in the air.

The mission that Moiraine had left for was a mystery, and no one seemed to know exactly where she had gone or what she was doing. Saerel’s watchful eyes seemed to follow Elyndria wherever she went, but Elyndria was grateful for the guidance. She trusted her mentor. She had to.

But the days dragged on. And with each passing one, the feeling that something monumental was coming only deepened.

The Tower was quieter than usual, the usual bustle of daily life replaced by an undercurrent of tension. Elyndria could feel it in the air, thick with uncertainty, as whispers of something greater began to surface. There were rumors, hushed conversations in dark corners of the Tower, about a man in Ghealdan, a man claiming to be the Dragon Reborn.

The whispers said he was gathering an army, taking over villages, proclaiming himself the prophesied hero who would either save or destroy the world. His followers grew by the day, and the King of Ghealdan had sent a plea for help to the White Tower.

Elyndria adjusted the straps on her saddlebags, her thoughts swirling as the mission began to take form.

She couldn’t shake the lingering curiosity about Moiraine Sedai, the Blue Aes Sedai who had been on her mind ever since she overheard the conversation in the Tower about the Dragon Reborn. Elyndria knew that Moiraine was a woman of secrets, always distant and enigmatic, but she couldn’t help wondering if there was more to her involvement than what had been shared.

As she moved toward her horse, Saerel appeared at her side, helping her adjust the saddle and tighten the straps. The Green Aes Sedai had been quiet for much of the morning, but now, as she worked with practiced hands, Elyndria felt the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

“Do you think… do you think Moiraine will be part of this mission?” Elyndria asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “I mean, she was always tight-lipped about the Dragon Reborn. I know she’s a Blue, but... there’s something about this whole situation that makes me wonder.”

Saerel paused, her fingers stilling on the saddle for a moment as she met Elyndria’s gaze. Her expression was unreadable, her usual calm now tinged with something deeper.

“I don’t know, Elyndria,” Saerel replied, her voice quiet and serious. “Moiraine is always tight-lipped about matters she doesn’t want us to know. She keeps her cards close to her chest. But from what I understand, I don’t believe this man, Logain Albar is connected to her mission. She’s working on something else. Something that, for now, has nothing to do with this so-called Dragon Reborn.”

Elyndria frowned, her mind turning over the words. “So, you think he’s just some strong channeler then? Not the Dragon we’ve been hearing about?”

Saerel’s eyes narrowed as she gazed ahead, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t think so. This man could be a very powerful channeler, yes. But the Dragon Reborn... that’s a different matter entirely. I don’t believe he’s the one from the prophecies. He might have enough power to start something dangerous, but I don't think he is who they say he is.”

Elyndria took in Saerel’s words, a strange unease settling deep in her chest. There was a part of her that wanted to believe this man was just another pretender—someone who had claimed the title of Dragon Reborn to seize power. But a nagging doubt lingered. What if Saerel was wrong? What if this was the Dragon, the one who could either save the world or destroy it?

“What do you think will happen if he’s truly powerful?” Elyndria asked, her voice edged with concern. “The Dragon Reborn… is it possible that someone else could take on that role?”

Saerel looked at her then, a hard look in her eyes, as though trying to gauge whether Elyndria was asking because she truly sought an answer—or if something deeper was at play.

“The Dragon Reborn is a prophecy,” Saerel said, her voice quiet but resolute. “But prophecies are often open to interpretation. There are those who believe that anyone who could channel power at the right moment might be considered the Dragon. But the true Dragon Reborn, the one the Aes Sedai speak of in the old prophecies, has a destiny far beyond anyone else.”

Elyndria felt a strange tightening in her chest. She’d heard the stories, of course—who hadn’t?—but now, with the threat so close to home, it was different. The weight of what the Dragon Reborn might mean for the world was no longer just a tale from the past. It felt real, palpable, and dangerously near.

“You think we’re in for more than we bargained for,” Elyndria said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Saerel gave her a sharp nod. “This mission is just the beginning, Elyndria. What we face now might be nothing compared to what’s coming. We’ve only just started to scratch the surface. The Dragon Reborn or whoever he is may well have more power than any of us understand. But whatever happens, remember to keep your wits about you. No one knows who or what we’re dealing with yet.”

A heavy silence fell between them as they continued to prepare.

The group was readying for the journey, but Elyndria couldn’t shake the growing sense of unease that had settled in her chest. The secrecy surrounding this mission, the murmurings of the Dragon Reborn, and the strange pull of fate. It was all starting to feel much larger than any of them could grasp.

Finally, as Elyndria finished adjusting her saddlebags, Saerel turned toward her, her expression softening slightly.

“I won’t be going with you on this mission, Elyndria,” she said quietly. “But you’re ready. I trust you to keep your wits about you. You and the other Greens have an important role to play.”

Elyndria nodded, feeling the weight of Saerel’s words. She didn’t want to face this mission alone, but she knew Saerel was right. The time had come for her to step up; to trust in her own abilities, her training, and the path she had chosen.

“I’ll be careful,” Elyndria promised, her voice firm.

Saerel gave her a soft smile, the first she’d seen in days. “I know you will. But be cautious. There’s more at play here than you know. The world is changing, and there are forces at work that none of us fully understand. Just remember: not everything is as it seems.”

Elyndria turned as Saerel rode off, her mind heavy with the weight of her words. She could feel the uncertainty creeping in, but there was also a sense of resolve beginning to settle in her chest.

The mission ahead would be unlike anything she had faced before.

As Elyndria joined the other Aes Sedai preparing to leave, Alanna Mosvani, gave her a small but encouraging smile. “We’ll need all the strength we can get for this mission. Stay sharp, Elyndria.”

Beside her, Kerene Nagashi, the Captain-General of the Green Ajah, gave Elyndria a look that held both concern and pride. “Be careful, Elyndria. This mission may seem straightforward, but there’s more at play here than we know. It will be different to the previous missions you have been on. Trust your instincts but also keep your eyes open. People will do anything when power is on the line.”

Elyndria nodded, taking in their words.

She could feel the weight of the mission pressing down on her, but the uncertainty was tempered by a new sense of clarity. The Dragon Reborn might change everything, but Elyndria was determined to face whatever came with strength, resolve, and caution.

As the group gathered at the gates, Elyndria couldn’t help but glance over at Liandrin, a Red Aes Sedai, who would be part of the mission. Liandrin’s icy blue eyes briefly met hers before she turned her focus to the preparations. Elyndria knew the stories about Liandrin; her reputation for hunting male channelers, her cold demeanor, and the tragedy in her past.

Though the Red’s presence made her uneasy, Elyndria pushed the discomfort aside. This mission was too important for personal reservations.

The world was changing, and the Dragon Reborn—whether this man was the one from the prophecies or not—would have a profound impact on it. Elyndria had her role to play, and she would do whatever it took to see it through.

As the gates of the White Tower slowly closed behind them, Elyndria felt the weight of the unknown pressing in.

The world had begun to shift in ways none of them could control, but she knew one thing for sure: whatever lay ahead, she would face it with all the strength she could muster.

As the horses trotted steadily along the road, Elyndria felt the tension in the air growing thicker. She was surrounded by the quiet, rhythmic sound of hooves, but her thoughts were far from calm. The weight of the mission, the uncertainty surrounding the Dragon Reborn, and the looming dangers were enough to keep her mind spinning.

Her gaze flicked between the Aes Sedai around her, each one with their own purpose and focus. But her attention was momentarily caught by a figure riding just ahead: Liandrin, the Red Aes Sedai.

The woman was an enigma in every sense; cold, unyielding, and with eyes that seemed to pierce through any facade. Elyndria had always felt the uncomfortable weight of her gaze, ever since the first time their paths had crossed in the Tower. There was something about Liandrin that unnerved her, something that made her want step into the shadows of the white tower walls when Liandrin was near.

The silence between them was palpable as the two women rode side by side, neither one offering words at first. Elyndria could feel Liandrin’s eyes on her, studying her, and she couldn’t suppress the slight tension that wound its way through her shoulders.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Liandrin spoke, her voice cool and measured.

“You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?” Liandrin’s gaze was fixed ahead, but there was a subtle weight to her words, like she was waiting for Elyndria to react.

Elyndria stiffened slightly, unsure how to respond.

She didn’t know what to make of Liandrin’s tone. There was no warmth, no friendliness, only a kind of calculating observation. The words were casual, but the meaning behind them cut deeper than she wanted to admit.

“What do you mean?” Elyndria asked, keeping her tone neutral, her gaze ahead.

Liandrin's lips curved into something that could almost be called a smile, though it lacked any trace of kindness. “From an orphan, found on the steps of the White Tower, to a servant, to a Novice... You've climbed the ranks faster than most. And now, a Green Aes Sedai. It’s impressive.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened, but there was no shame in her words—only a deep respect for the life that had shaped her. She had never been embarrassed about her humble beginnings. The servants had raised her as much as the Tower had, offering care, guidance, and a sense of belonging that she would never forget.

“I’ve worked for everything I have,” Elyndria said, her voice steady. “The servants at the Tower—they taught me much. And I will always respect them for it.”

Liandrin’s gaze shifted slightly, a spark of something almost like amusement flickering in her eyes. “Oh, I don’t doubt that,” she said, her voice low. “In fact, I think you have far more power than most of your sisters realize. You’ve been careful about hiding it, haven’t you?”

Elyndria stiffened at the observation.

She had always known her strength in the One Power, but it was not something she liked to flaunt. The Tower had taught her that power could be both a blessing and a curse, and she had always preferred to keep a low profile, especially around someone like Liandrin, who had no patience for anything less than total control.

“I don’t hide it,” Elyndria said quietly, but firmly. “I simply don’t see the need to advertise it.”

Liandrin’s lips twisted, though whether in amusement or something else, Elyndria couldn’t say. “Interesting,” she murmured. There was a brief pause, as though Liandrin was considering her next words carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about this so-called Dragon Reborn,” Liandrin continued. “About the man in Ghealdan who claims to be him. A powerful channeler, no doubt. But my question for you, Elyndria, is this: What would you do if you were in my place? If you had the power to take that so-called Dragon and gentle him?”

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat. The question was so direct, so cold in its delivery, that it caught her off guard. The thought of gentling someone, even someone who could be dangerous, was something she had never fully considered.

It was a last resort, a cruel necessity for those who threatened the world with their power. But the Dragon Reborn—the very person prophesied to either save or destroy the world—could never be treated that way, could he? The idea of gentling him was unthinkable, even if he had been nothing more than a powerful channeler.

“I—I don’t know,” Elyndria stammered, the question leaving her feeling more unsettled than she had expected. “The Dragon Reborn... it’s not that simple.”

Liandrin’s gaze hardened, but before she could press further, the sound of hooves approaching interrupted their conversation. A tall figure on horseback appeared alongside them—Stepin, Kerene Nagashi’s Warder.

“Liandrin,” Stepin said, his voice firm yet respectful. “The Captain-General wants you at the front. Kerene and Alanna need to discuss something important with you.”

Elyndria was relieved at the interruption.

She had been on the verge of saying something she might regret, or worse, revealing just how little she knew about the harsh reality of gentling someone like the Dragon Reborn.

Liandrin gave Elyndria one last, assessing look before nodding curtly at Stepin. “I’ll be there.”

Without a word to Elyndria, she turned her horse, spurring it forward to join Kerene and Alanna. Elyndria felt an instant relief as the distance between them grew, the tension in her chest easing just a little.

Elyndria let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. As much as she tried to focus on the mission ahead, Liandrin’s words kept swirling in her mind. Would gentling the Dragon Reborn ever truly be an option? Was the world prepared to deal with someone that powerful—or would they be forced to stop him at any cost?

She shook her head, trying to push those thoughts aside for the moment. There was no room for uncertainty now. The road to Ghealdan lay ahead, and Elyndria knew that the mission was just the beginning of something much larger.

But as she urged her horse forward, the conversation with Liandrin lingered in her thoughts, the question of gentling. Of whether they could really take the Dragon Reborn down nagged at her like a dark shadow.

As the group pressed forward, the rolling hills of the Borderlands began to fade into the rugged, unforgiving terrain of Ghealdan. The air felt different here; charged with an unsettling weight, as though the land itself was holding its breath in anticipation of something far greater than any of them fully understood. Elyndria felt it too, an overwhelming sense of something looming, something she couldn’t quite grasp but knew was coming.

Her thoughts, however, kept circling back to Liandrin’s unsettling question.

Gentling the Dragon Reborn had seemed like an abstract concept at first, something whispered in shadows and discussed in cryptic prophecies. But now, the closer they got to Ghealdan, the more real it became. If this man truly was the Dragon Reborn, the power he wielded could either save or destroy the world.

Could they contain him?

Should they?

The question gnawed at her mind.

Elyndria glanced at the women ahead of her: Alanna Mosvani, the Green Aes Sedai with her calm, assured presence, and Kerene Nagashi, the Captain-General of the Green Ajah, a woman whose natural authority was as formidable as her strength.

Elyndria trusted them both, yet even their strength couldn’t ease the tension building in her chest. The world was changing, and they were riding directly into the heart of that change. Every step felt as if it were pulling them deeper into the unknown.

The group paused near a fast-running stream, its clear waters rushing over smooth stones. The sound was soothing, and Elyndria allowed herself a moment to breathe, collecting her thoughts as the weight of the journey settled on her shoulders like a heavy cloak.

She untied her saddlebags mechanically, her mind distant, overwhelmed by the uncertainty ahead.

Kerene’s voice brought her back to the present. “Elyndria,” she said softly, the concern and wisdom in her tone clear. Elyndria looked up to meet her gaze, surprised by the understanding she found there. “I know it’s difficult,” Kerene continued, her voice steady, “but remember: we don’t need answers right now. We need clarity. Stay focused on the task at hand.”

Elyndria nodded, grateful for the reminder. Kerene was right. It was easy to get lost in the swirling questions, but they had a mission to complete. Information first, everything else later. They couldn’t afford to lose sight of that.

Before Elyndria could respond, a figure appeared on the horizon; Stepin, Kerene’s Warder, riding swiftly toward them. Tall, with short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard, Stepin was a man of few words, but when he spoke, his words held weight. He reached them with a grave expression, his eyes scanning the horizon before turning to Kerene.

“The scouts report trouble,” Stepin said, his voice low but clear. “The villages near Ghealdan are in chaos. People are fleeing in all directions. Word is, the Dragon Reborn has begun rallying his followers. He’s making his move.”

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat, the news striking like a thunderclap. But the revelation didn’t stop there. Stepin’s next words made her blood run cold.

“The King of Ghealdan, he’s sworn allegiance to the Dragon Reborn.”

The weight of those words hit Elyndria hard.

The King of Ghealdan, once a stabilizing force in the region, had now cast his lot with the so-called Dragon Reborn?

That changed everything. If the King himself was behind this man, this movement, it wasn’t just isolated villages anymore. The rebellion had spread far beyond what they had anticipated. The King’s influence would likely bring more nobles into his fold, further fracturing the kingdom.

Elyndria swallowed hard, realizing the stakes had just grown immeasurably.

Kerene absorbed the news, her face hardening, but her voice remained calm. “So, he’s not just a pretender anymore. He has real power now. We can’t afford to underestimate him.”

Stepin nodded gravely. “If the King is with him, it’s only a matter of time before others follow. The rebellion is spreading. We need to act quickly.”

Elyndria felt her chest tighten.

The Dragon Reborn was no longer a distant figure in a prophecy. He had become a tangible threat. One that was gaining followers, gaining power, and now had the backing of a kingdom. The world was changing before her eyes, and they had to be ready for whatever came next.

Without missing a beat, Kerene turned to Stepin. “Then we move at first light. We can’t afford to wait.”

Stepin rode off to prepare the horses, and Kerene turned to Elyndria, her gaze sharp but reassuring. “Stay focused. We’re walking into a storm, Elyndria. Remember what I told you: don’t trust anyone completely—not even those you think you know. Be vigilant. There’s no telling what we’ll face.”

Elyndria nodded, her heart pounding. She had always known their mission would be dangerous, but this was something else entirely. The King’s sudden change in allegiance only deepened the uncertainty.

What had driven him to join forces with the Dragon Reborn?

Did he believe in the man’s prophecy, or was he simply using him for his own ends?

Elyndria wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer but she had a feeling they would find out soon enough.

As the group set off again, the tension thick in the air, Elyndria’s thoughts turned inward. She couldn’t stop thinking about Liandrin’s cold, detached words about gentling the Dragon Reborn. The idea, which had seemed abstract and distant, was now terrifyingly real.

Would they truly have to strip him of his power?

And if they did, what would be left?

Kerene, sensing Elyndria’s discomfort, broke the silence. “I know you’re struggling with it,” she said quietly, her voice low but sharp, as if she had read Elyndria’s thoughts. “The idea of gentling anyone is hard to accept. Even for those of us who have seen it done before.”

Elyndria glanced at her, surprised by the directness in Kerene’s voice. “I’ve never seen it done,” Elyndria replied softly, her hands tightening around the reins.

Her stomach churned at the memory of Liandrin’s chilling words flashing in her mind: Would you be willing to do what needs to be done?

“It’s unnatural,” Elyndria continued, her voice tight, as if the very thought of gentling someone made her skin crawl. “To take away someone’s power, their very essence... it feels like an erasure. Like killing a part of them. I’ve never been able to reconcile that with what we’re supposed to do.”

Kerene nodded, her eyes softening as she regarded Elyndria with understanding. “You’re not alone in that. There’s a reason most of us avoid it unless we absolutely have to. But sometimes... sometimes it’s the only way to protect the world.”

Elyndria’s gaze dropped to the ground below her horse’s hooves, her thoughts swirling. “But can we really just take away someone’s power like that? To strip them of the one thing that makes them who they are?” Her voice faltered, the discomfort she felt evident in every word. “What if we’re wrong? What if the Dragon Reborn is meant to rise?”

There was a pause before Kerene spoke again, her voice quieter this time, tinged with something Elyndria couldn’t quite place. “It’s a heavy burden to carry, deciding the fate of someone like him. But you must understand—there’s no turning back if we’re wrong. If the Dragon Reborn is what they say he is, if he is truly the one the prophecies speak of, then the world will change. For better or worse, it will change.”

Elyndria clenched her jaw, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on her chest.

Kerene’s words rang in her mind, but they did little to ease the unease curling in her stomach. She had seen the effects of gentling before, in the quiet, unnerving way it had stripped men of their power, their essence. She had been there when men, once proud and strong in their channeling, had been reduced to shadows of themselves, barely able to remember who they were. The act of gentling was brutal, but what was worse was what it did to the people who had witnessed it. It stayed with them.

“You've seen it, haven’t you?” Elyndria asked, her voice small, barely more than a whisper. “Seen what happens when someone is gentled?”

Kerene’s eyes darkened, her face unreadable as she nodded slowly. “I’ve seen it. It changes you. You can’t unsee it. I won’t lie to you, Elyndria. It’s never easy. But sometimes, it’s necessary.”

Elyndria couldn’t hold back the tremor that ran through her at those words. The thought of gentling anyone—especially someone as powerful as the Dragon Reborn—filled her with a deep sense of dread.

The power to channel was so much more than just a gift or a curse; it was who they were. To take it away was to take away their soul.

“It’s just... it feels wrong,” Elyndria muttered, her mind still wrestling with the idea. She had grown up learning that those who could channel were capable of great things, both good and bad. But gentling wasn’t about protecting people from harm, it was about removing something irreversibly. “I’ve seen what happens after to the men who are gentled. I don’t know if I could be a part of that.”

Kerene’s gaze softened as she turned to face her. “None of us want to be part of it, Elyndria. But if we are to protect the world from the Dark One, sometimes hard choices must be made. Sometimes people must be contained.”

Elyndria’s heart pounded at the thought. Liandrin had been the first to voice the possibility of gentling the Dragon Reborn, but it was clear she was only one among many who viewed it as a practical solution. The problem was, Liandrin’s cold, detached approach had unsettled her. The way she had spoken, as if it was just another task to complete, felt unnatural to Elyndria. It was like she had no empathy for the gravity of such an action.

“I can’t think of the Dragon Reborn like that,” Elyndria said, her voice firm now, though a hint of uncertainty still lingered. “I can’t think of him as just another man to be gentled.”

Kerene was silent for a long moment before answering. “You don’t have to think of him as just another man, Elyndria. But think of him as someone who could change the world. A man who could lead us into a future where everything, everything, rests on his shoulders. If he is the one, he’ll need to make choices, just as we do.”

A shiver ran down Elyndria’s spine at the thought. Liandrin, with her calculating eyes and cold demeanor, had been the first to voice the possibility of gentling him. The idea felt like a fate too cruel for anyone to bear, even the Dragon Reborn. Yet Kerene’s words rang with a painful truth: Sometimes, it's necessary.

“Do you think Liandrin would truly go through with it?” Elyndria asked, her voice barely audible, as if she was afraid of the answer.

Kerene’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Liandrin... is driven by her own beliefs. She has her own way of seeing the world, and her own plans. She believes in the necessity of controlling power, no matter the cost. You’ll need to decide where you stand when the time comes.”

Elyndria felt a flicker of unease deep inside her. Liandrin was relentless, and there was no doubt in Elyndria’s mind that if it came to it, Liandrin would not hesitate to carry out the gentling.

But was that the right choice?

Was it the only choice?

The conversation had left Elyndria uneasy, uncertain. The burden of their mission had just grown heavier. And as they continued on their journey, the question loomed larger and larger in her mind: What would they do when they found the Dragon Reborn?

---

As the group pressed onward, Elyndria found herself settling into a rare moment of quiet. The tension of the journey still lingered in the air, but there was a sense of familiarity that she welcomed. The members of the Green Ajah, her sisters, had always been a source of comfort, but it was the Warders who, over the past year, had become an unexpected source of strength for her.

Their unwavering presence had solidified her trust in them, and the bond she shared with Ihvon and Maksim felt like a constant anchor in a world that seemed to grow more unstable with each passing day.

Alanna Mosvani’s Warders, Ihvon and Maksim, were two men Elyndria had come to respect deeply. Both were fierce in their own way, loyal to their Aes Sedai with a devotion that was unshakable. Ihvon, tall with dark eyes and a commanding presence, was the quieter of the two, always watching their surroundings with a careful, calculating gaze. His silence wasn’t one of distance, but of observation.

Elyndria had often caught him watching her, not with suspicion, but with something akin to understanding.

Maksim, on the other hand, was lighter, his broad smile often a welcome contrast to the heavy nature of their travels. His humor was infectious, and Elyndria found herself laughing more times than she cared to admit in their company. It was a rare thing—laughter—in these days of uncertainty, but Maksim’s infectious spirit had a way of cutting through the darkness.

The bond between the Warders and their Aes Sedai was like nothing Elyndria had ever experienced before. She’d seen it in passing when she first joined the Green Ajah, but now, after a year of training, she understood it in ways that resonated deeply. It wasn’t just duty that brought them together; it was about trust in each other’s abilities, trust in each other’s lives.

“Do you think Saerel is really sitting this one out?” Maksim’s voice broke the silence, a teasing tone in his words. He was riding beside Elyndria, the gentle laughter in his voice making her smile despite herself.

“Maybe she's finally decided to give her poor heart a break,” Ihvon chimed in, his eyes flickering with the faintest smile. He had always been a man of few words, but the glimmer of humor in his expression made it clear he was just as amused as Maksim by the absence of their fellow Warder.

Elyndria raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting Saerel is worried about me?” she asked, half-laughing but also somewhat curious.

Saerel had always been more distant, more controlled in her interactions, but Elyndria knew there was a soft spot buried beneath that tough exterior.

Maksim smirked, glancing back toward the other members of their group as if making sure they weren’t overheard. “Oh, absolutely. Saerel? Tough as nails, but underneath it all, she’d do anything for you, Elyndria. She’s just not the type to show it... unless you know where to look.”

Elyndria couldn’t suppress the warmth that spread through her chest.

She’d always respected Saerel. The way she carried herself, the sharp edge to her wit, and the unspoken bond she shared with the Green Ajah. Saerel had always been the one to lead in the shadows, the one who took the hardest decisions without hesitation. But Elyndria knew, deep down, that there was more to her than the unyielding strength she projected.

“I’m just saying,” Ihvon continued with a rare chuckle, “I’m surprised she didn’t come along for this one. It’s not like her to miss out on action.”

“Perhaps it’s more like her to let us handle this one, for once,” Elyndria said, her tone thoughtful. She knew Saerel had always seen her as capable, but there was a tenderness in their bond that was unmistakable. For all her tough exterior, Saerel had always treated Elyndria like a younger sister, even if she never quite showed it. There was something protective about her, something that went beyond mere duty.

“She’s probably making sure she’s got everything ready for when we get back,” Maksim teased lightly. “You know Saerel—she never leaves things to chance. But it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s busy fretting over you, Elyndria.”

Elyndria laughed softly, glancing at Ihvon and Maksim, both of whom seemed so certain of Saerel’s silent concern for her. “She’s just too hard on herself,” Elyndria said, her voice warm with fondness for her fellow Warder. “She thinks she has to be everything for everyone. Sometimes I think she forgets she can lean on us, too.”

Ihvon’s lips twitched into a rare, knowing smile. “Hard to teach someone like her that she doesn’t always have to carry the world on her shoulders.”

The mood shifted slightly as the trio continued to ride, the camaraderie between them like an unspoken reassurance that no matter how dangerous the road ahead might be, they had each other’s backs. It wasn’t just the Aes Sedai who held power. It was the Warders too, with their strength, their loyalty, and their unbreakable bond with the women they protected.

Elyndria’s thoughts turned inward again as the conversation slowed, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead.

The Dragon Reborn, the rebellion spreading through Ghealdan, the potential for gentling. A hundred unknowns hung in the air, and every decision felt like a path that could change everything. Yet, as the Warders rode at her side, she felt a flicker of comfort. Their trust in her was genuine, their respect for her abilities unshakable.

It was an unexpected feeling, but one she clung to.

As they rode through the night, the stars overhead were a steady reminder that, even in these tumultuous times, some things remained constant. Alanna, always the composed Green, was riding ahead, her sharp eyes scanning the road ahead, while Kerene was deep in conversation with Stepin. The Warders, too, kept their careful watch, their ever-present vigilance grounding the group.

But Elyndria felt the solidarity between them, the quiet understanding that when the time came, they would all stand together; Green, Warders, and all.

“Tomorrow,” Maksim said suddenly, breaking the silence again. “It’s going to get interesting, isn’t it?”

Elyndria met his gaze, her thoughts momentarily clearing. “It already is.”

And as the group pressed forward, Elyndria couldn’t help but feel that Saerel, wherever she was, was right there with them in spirit.

Though she hadn’t joined them physically, her concern for Elyndria and for the mission was something that would always be felt, even from a distance. Just like the unwavering support of the Warders, it was a reminder that the bonds they shared were deeper than any distance could break.

There was no escaping the divide that had been growing between the Green Ajah and the Red Ajah. Elyndria had never felt it more acutely than now, riding with her fellow Green sisters and their Warders, while the Red sisters particularly Liandrin seemed to cling to their own beliefs with ever more rigidity.

The Red Ajah had always been about duty; containing male channelers, making sure they never posed a threat to the world again. Elyndria had never had any illusions about their methods; after all, it was the Reds who were known for their unyielding stance on gentling, a stance they believed was for the greater good. And yet, over time, Elyndria had come to see the cracks in their unity, even among themselves. It wasn’t just the Red Ajah’s unwavering mission that made her uneasy, but the stark contrast in how they approached the task of dealing with male channelers.

Liandrin was the embodiment of that cold certainty. Her belief in the necessity of gentling male channelers, especially the Dragon Reborn, was so absolute that it bordered on fanaticism. For Liandrin, there was no room for compassion, no space for doubt just cold, calculated necessity. Her methods, her single-mindedness, made Elyndria deeply uncomfortable.

But it wasn’t just Liandrin, was the Red sisters as a whole. The way they followed her so unquestioningly, their steely resolve in their mission to eliminate any male channeler, no matter the cost, was unsettling. Elyndria wasn’t sure she could align herself with that worldview, not with the stakes growing so much larger now that the Dragon Reborn had entered the picture.

The Green Ajah, in contrast, had always been about balance. The Greens took pride in their ability to fight, to protect, and to stand firm when it came to matters of the world’s safety.

But there was a sense of flexibility in the way they approached those matters especially in how they viewed male channelers. They had always believed in defending the world, but they didn’t see every male Aes Sedai as an inherent threat. They knew well that a male channeler could be a force for good or ill, and that distinction mattered.

Elyndria trusted her fellow Greens; Alanna, Kerene, and the Warders who rode alongside them. They had faced challenges together, fought battles side by side, and shared in the weight of their mission. There was a deep understanding between them, a respect that ran both ways. And in the silence of their ride, their shared humor—a rare, light-hearted jab about Saerel staying behind and worrying about Elyndria—was a reminder of the bond they all shared.

Even though their mission was fraught with danger, there was comfort in knowing they would always have each other's backs.

But the divide between the Greens and the Reds had become impossible to ignore.

The Reds, particularly Liandrin, looked at the Dragon Reborn as a problem to be eradicated, a threat to be neutralized without question. Elyndria knew that Liandrin would have no qualms about gentling the Dragon Reborn if it came to that, just as she had never hesitated to see other male channelers stripped of their power. To Liandrin, gentling was not just a necessity—it was an inevitable consequence of the world they lived in. But to Elyndria, the idea felt more and more wrong. There had to be another way, didn’t there?

She glanced at Alanna, who rode ahead, her face set in concentration. She had always respected Alanna for her calm strength and her pragmatic approach. Alanna’s Warders, Ihvon and Maksim, had proven themselves to be capable and steady companions as well.

In the year that Elyndria had been with the Green Ajah, she had come to trust them as if they were her own family. There was no dividing line between them—not between Alanna and Elyndria, nor between the Greens and their Warders. They had shared too much, fought too hard together to let anything come between them now. The Reds, especially Liandrin, just didn’t seem to get it.

Elyndria’s thoughts whirled as the group pressed forward, heading toward the last known location of the Dragon Reborn, or so they believed.

Information had trickled in from various sources, some reliable, others less so, but all seemed to point toward a male channeler who was wreaking havoc in Ghealdan. His movements were erratic and destructive, leaving behind signs of devastation in his wake. But the truth of his identity was still uncertain.

Was this truly the Dragon Reborn, or just another imposter, a dangerous male channeler whose unchecked power had led him down a destructive path?

The uncertainty gnawed at Elyndria.

She had heard the stories of the Dragon Reborn, of his destiny to fight the Dark One and the world-altering power he would wield. But now, as they rode deeper into Ghealdan, she had begun to wonder whether they were hunting a man who might, in the end, be no more than a harbinger of destruction.

They had reached the outskirts of a town that had once been full of life but now lay in ruins. The smell of burnt wood and scorched earth clung to the air, a grim reminder of the chaos that had swept through this area. Buildings had collapsed, and the fields had been turned to ash. The villagers were gone; slaughtered or scattered, no trace of life remained.

Elyndria felt the weight of the scene settling in her chest. She had seen destruction before, but this... this felt different.

Her stomach churned as she took in the scale of the devastation. Could this truly be the work of the Dragon Reborn?

The stories told of a savior; a man destined to reshape the world. But this man, if he was the Dragon Reborn, had left nothing but ruin in his wake. Or perhaps, as some had suggested, they were chasing after an imposter, a man with the power of the One Power who had let it consume him, using it without control or purpose.

“Alanna,” Elyndria said, her voice low and filled with unease. “Do you really think he’s the Dragon Reborn?”

Alanna looked over at her, her eyes grim but focused. “We can’t be sure, Elyndria. There are still too many questions, too many unknowns. But someone with this much power, this much destruction... if it’s not him, it’s someone very dangerous. And either way, we can’t let him continue like this.”

Elyndria nodded, her heart heavy. They had no choice but to act. If this man was truly the Dragon Reborn, they had to stop him before his power threatened to destroy the world. If he was an imposter, they had to neutralize him before he caused even more damage.

Finally, after days of tracking, they reached the small camp they believed belonged to the Dragon Reborn.

It was nothing like the grand armies Elyndria had imagined—only 40 or 50 soldiers, most of them looking worn and disorganized. The camp was modest, with no signs of the disciplined structure one would expect from a military force led by someone of great importance. It was clear that this man had power, but whether he was truly the Dragon Reborn, or a mere pretender was yet to be seen.

“This is it,” Alanna whispered as they surveyed the camp. “We need to be careful. If it’s him, we can’t afford to make a mistake. If it’s not, then we have a dangerous man to deal with.”

The plan was already in motion.

Alanna, Liandrin, and Kerene would work together to shield the man, preventing him from using the One Power or escaping. Elyndria, along with the four red sisters, would focus on dealing with the soldiers, using their abilities to neutralize the threat without killing anyone if they could help it. The Warders, always loyal, would provide support, ensuring the safety of their Aes Sedai as they carried out their task.

“We move quickly,” Alanna said. “Get in, subdue him, and get out. No more delays.”

The group moved under the cover of darkness, their movements calculated and silent. Every step was measured, every decision weighed. Ihvon and Maksim were always on alert, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. Elyndria’s heart pounded in her chest, not just from the mission but from the uncertainty that hung in the air.

Was this really the Dragon Reborn?

And if so, what were they about to do?

They reached the camp without incident, creeping closer, eyes fixed on the figure in the center of the tent—a man, asleep and seemingly unaware of their presence. The Dragon Reborn, or whoever this man was, lay on a bedroll beneath a makeshift canopy. His presence was overwhelming even in his sleep; power radiated from him like a storm waiting to break.

As they drew closer, Elyndria felt it, a sensation like a storm on the horizon.

The air around the tent crackled with power, the raw force of it sinking into her skin, making every hair on her body stand on end. She could feel it. This man was strong—too strong. His power was undeniable, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

"He's... so strong," Elyndria whispered, her voice almost trembling.

Alanna nodded, her expression tense. “Yes. He is unlike anyone I’ve ever felt before. Shielding him won’t be easy. We’ll need to combine all of our strength to do it.”

Despite the combined might of the Aes Sedai, Elyndria could already sense the struggle.

The man's power seemed to reach out, unwilling to be contained. It was as if the shield would not hold completely. Even with all of their strength focused together, the light struggle of his power pushing against theirs was unmistakable.

“Everyone ready?” Alanna asked, turning to the others. She didn’t wait for an answer but raised her hands, already drawing the threads of the One Power.

They moved swiftly, but as they began to weave their shield around him, the intensity of his power became even more apparent. Alanna, Liandrin, and Kerene worked in tandem, their weaves connecting, but the pressure was unlike anything Elyndria had ever felt. It was as if the man's power was alive, struggling against them, trying to break free.

“This is... harder than I thought,” Liandrin muttered under her breath, her brow furrowed with concentration.

“I can feel it, too,” Kerene said, her voice strained. “We have to hold him. We can’t let him use the Power.”

The effort was immense. Despite their combined strength, Elyndria felt the power slip, just a little, and the resistance from the man was palpable. It wasn’t just his power they were containing, but something within him that pushed against them like a beast trying to break free of its chains.

Meanwhile, Elyndria and the four red sisters were already preparing their countermeasures.

They stood at the perimeter, weaving lightning into the air, sending it crackling toward the camp’s soldiers. The very air around them hummed with power as the first bolt of lightning tore through the night sky, followed quickly by others. The soldiers, already uneasy, screamed in panic as the storm of light and sound descended on them.

The lightning struck with such force that it sent the soldiers scattering in every direction, their discipline shattered by the overwhelming force. One by one, they fled into the night, their fear evident in their wild flight. The soldiers, like frightened animals, abandoned their camp, leaving behind everything they had once fought to protect.

The figure in the center of the camp remained still, shielded but contained. As the soldiers scattered, the Aes Sedai tightened their hold, but Elyndria couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt.

Was this truly the Dragon Reborn?

The man was powerful, yes—but there was a dark, unsettling edge to his presence that made her wonder.

Alanna motioned to the others, signaling for them to continue holding their shield. “Keep him contained. We need to know who we’re dealing with before we make the next move.”

As the group worked, Elyndria could feel the slight tremors in the weave, the struggle beneath the surface. Even with all their combined power, it was clear that this was not going to be easy. But there was no turning back now. Whether he was the Dragon Reborn or not, they had to handle the situation before it spiraled further out of control.

Alanna stood tall over the shielded man, her eyes cold and calculating. “We’ll find out soon enough whether he’s truly the Dragon Reborn. But for now, we hold him and we wait.”

Elyndria’s heartbeat loudly in her chest. Whatever the truth of this man’s identity was, one thing was certain: this was only the beginning of the chaos to come.
Elyndria stood in the silence of the camp, her hands still wrapped tightly around the threads of the One Power, feeling the unyielding force of the shield as it held the man who believed himself to be the Dragon Reborn.

He had stirred moments ago, his breathing becoming more labored, and now his eyes flickered open, glowing with a strange intensity.

He was lying on the ground, shackled and still surrounded by the weaves of the Aes Sedai. His gaze swept around the camp, and when his eyes met Elyndria's, something flickered behind them; an awareness, a confusion, and then a deep, unsettling certainty.

“I am the Dragon Reborn,” Logain’s voice rasped, hoarse but confident. The words hung in the air, thick with power.

Elyndria felt a shiver run down her spine.

She had heard the prophecies, the stories about the Dragon Reborn, but she hadn’t expected this. The man’s voice was unmistakable. There was something about the way he spoke, the raw power emanating from him, that made her believe—perhaps more than she had wanted to—that he might be telling the truth.

But Alanna, standing near the shield, remained unimpressed. Her gaze hardened, and she spoke sharply, dismissing his claim with a glance. “He believes it,” she muttered, “but the talk of a madman doesn’t make it true.”

Liandrin’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. Her eyes were filled with disdain, but underneath the coldness, there was something calculating. “All male channelers who wield such power end up the same; corrupt, insane, lost to the madness of the One Power. He’s no different. The sooner we gentle him, the better.”

Kerene shook her head, her expression firm but calm. “Liandrin, you don’t know that. We can’t just gentle him without knowing more. He’s still a person, whether or not he believes he’s the Dragon Reborn. We must take him to the White Tower first. We are bound by the laws, and we must follow them.”

Elyndria felt the air grow tense as the disagreement unfolded before her. She could feel the heat of Liandrin’s conviction, her belief in the righteousness of gentling any male channeler. But it was clear to Elyndria that Kerene was right. They were in no position to act based on suspicion alone. No one could truly know if this man was the Dragon Reborn until they saw for themselves what he was capable of. Gentling him now could be a tragic mistake.

“Enough,” Kerene’s voice cut through the argument. “The decision is made. We’re taking him back to the White Tower.”

Liandrin’s lips thinned, but she didn’t protest further. The Red Aes Sedai was not used to being overruled, but Kerene had the authority. And despite her own misgivings, Liandrin knew that the law of the White Tower still held precedence, even in the face of uncertainty.

Alanna moved quickly, organizing the others with practiced ease. There was a horse-drawn cage left behind by the soldiers, one designed for prisoners. It would do for the Dragon Reborn, or the man who claimed to be.

As Elyndria watched, Logain was roughly lifted and placed into the cage. His eyes burned with a feverish intensity, still believing in his identity, speaking to them of whispers in his head—voices of past Dragon Reborns, telling him of his destiny, his place in the world.

“You hear them, don’t you?” Elyndria asked quietly, unable to keep the sympathy from her voice. She couldn’t help it. There was something raw about the way he spoke, as if he truly believed he was the one meant to save or destroy the world.

Logain’s eyes focused on her, and for a moment, the intensity in them softened. “They speak to me. They guide me,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am the Dragon Reborn. I will destroy the Dark One.”

His words were a riddle, a puzzle Elyndria wasn’t sure she could solve. Could he truly be the Dragon Reborn, or was he another victim of the madness that came with male channelers who had never learned to control their power? The thought troubled her deeply.

With the prisoner secured, the group began their journey back to the White Tower, the tension palpable. The sun was setting behind them, casting long shadows over the worn path. They rode in silence for hours, the only sound the clatter of hooves and the occasional rattle of the cage.

But as they neared a dense thicket of trees, something shifted in the air; a strange, charged energy that Elyndria could feel even before she saw the figures ahead. She squinted into the distance, and there, emerging from the shadows, she saw them.

A trio of figures walking steadily toward them—Moiraine Sedai, of the Blue Ajah, at the lead. Behind her, a tall, muscular man—Lan, her Warder. His serious face was set in a perpetual frown, but there was something in his eyes, an unspoken promise of strength. Even from a distance, Elyndria could feel the sheer intensity of him. Lan was a man who had clearly seen more battles than most would ever know.

But what truly caught Elyndria’s attention was the third figure, an unfamiliar young woman around Elyndria’s age; dark-skinned with long, dark brown hair pulled back away from her face. She had a furrowed brow, her face taut with stress. Despite the weariness in her step, there was something sharp and watchful about her.

As they drew closer, Elyndria realized something was wrong. Moiraine's normally calm and composed demeanor was cracked. Her face was pale, and her posture hunched forward, as though every step was a struggle. She looked… injured. It was a sight Elyndria had never imagined she’d see—Moiraine, the ever-steady Blue Aes Sedai, broken.

When the groups met, Moiraine didn’t wait for formalities. Her piercing gaze locked onto Kerene’s as she approached. “What happened?” she asked in a voice laced with urgency.

Kerene answered without hesitation. “Moiraine, we’ve captured a male channeler. He believes himself to be the Dragon Reborn.”

Moiraine’s gaze flickered to the cage, where the man lay, still muttering in his delirium. His feverish voice rose and fell, talking of fate, of past lives, of the Dark One. Moiraine’s eyes grew distant, but her lips were tight, as if deep in thought. The words seemed to weigh heavily on her.

“I see,” she said, her voice tight with concern. “You’re taking him to the White Tower?”

“Yes,” Kerene answered. “We must.”

Moiraine nodded, but there was no time for further discussion. She glanced behind her at the young woman. The girl was obviously exhausted, her steps uneven, her face drawn in worry. “We’ve been followed,” Moiraine said softly, almost to herself. “Shadowspawn are hunting us. They’ve grown bolder.”

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat. Shadowspawn? So soon after they had secured the man?

Kerene immediately shifted her stance, her attention snapping to the immediate danger. “How many?”

“Not sure,” Moiraine replied, her voice grim. “But they’re getting closer. We need to move quickly. If they’ve followed us this far, they’re more than just a nuisance.”

Elyndria’s mind raced. Shadowspawn on their trail, an unknown male channeler claiming to be the Dragon Reborn, Moiraine injured, the mysterious young woman with her—it was all too much. The road ahead was filled with more dangers than she could have imagined.

“Then we ride together,” Kerene said decisively, already looking at her companions and ordering them into formation. “We’ll protect each other, and we’ll make it to the White Tower no matter what.”

The mood shifted, the urgency palpable. The Warders immediately took their places, surrounding the Aes Sedai, while Elyndria felt the weight of the moment press down on her.

Moiraine moved close to her, glancing at the man in the cage one last time. “Be ready for anything,” she warned, her voice soft but firm. “Nothing is certain anymore.”

As the two groups united, Elyndria felt a strange sense of foreboding. The man they had captured, who claimed to be the Dragon Reborn, might not be the only thing they had to worry about. There was more at play here than they could fully comprehend.

Chapter 8: The Price of Stillness

The journey continued through the thickening trees, the muted light of the setting sun casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across the land. Elyndria walked in silence beside the group, but her mind was a storm of questions.

As she glanced at Moiraine and the young girl walking ahead, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Moiraine’s introduction of the girl had been brief, almost curt, and Elyndria had noticed the way Moiraine avoided giving any real details about the girl. Instead, she simply stated, “This is Nynaeve,” before falling silent. Elyndria had met plenty of people over the years, but something about Nynaeve’s cold demeanor piqued her curiosity.

The young woman didn’t seem interested in making connections, let alone with an Aes Sedai. Nynaeve’s gaze, sharp and untrusting, barely met Elyndria’s, and her responses were clipped, distant.

“Nice to meet you,” Elyndria had said at first, offering a polite smile, but Nynaeve’s only reply had been a brief nod before her eyes darted back to the path ahead.

It wasn’t just Nynaeve’s behavior that bothered Elyndria it was the way Moiraine seemed almost too eager to move on from the introduction. The tightness in Moiraine’s movements, the way she subtly avoided any real discussion of Nynaeve, left Elyndria with an unsettled feeling gnawing at her gut.

There was something Moiraine wasn’t saying, something important, and it had to be more than just the presence of this Nynaeve.

Could it be that Nynaeve was a part of Moiraine’s secret mission?

The Aes Sedai seemed to always keep her cards close to her chest, but it didn’t take much to piece together the puzzle. If Moiraine was truly on the hunt for the Dragon, it would explain why she was so guarded about Nynaeve. Perhaps the girl was someone of importance—someone Moiraine had encountered during her travels or even someone who could be tied to the prophecy of the Dragon Reborn.

Elyndria felt a flicker of hope deep inside her.

What if Moiraine was searching for the Dragon Reborn?

What if this was all about finding him, and Logain was just another imposter, someone with delusions of grandeur?

She didn’t want Logain to be the Dragon. His self-proclaimed declarations had a madness about them, a feverish desperation that unnerved her. Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling that Logain, even if he truly were a powerful male channeler, wasn’t the Dragon Reborn.

She held onto the hope that the real Dragon was still out there somewhere, lost in the world, waiting to fulfill his destiny.

She didn't want Logain to be the one to carry that burden. She didn't want him to be the savior of the world if he couldn’t even control his own mind.

The very thought made her stomach churn.

The deeper they traveled into the forest, the more Elyndria found herself reflecting on Moiraine's secrecy. It was not just the evasiveness about Nynaeve. It was the way Moiraine's posture had stiffened ever since the encounter with Logain. Elyndria could sense it. There was something more going on, something hidden beneath the surface of their mission. And Moiraine, despite her calm demeanor, was not one to easily let things slip.

It made Elyndria wonder if Moiraine was hiding something about her quest. Something she couldn’t afford to share, even with her own sisters.

But as they set up camp for the night and the so called dragon reborn was secured in the cave that was nearby, Elyndria pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind.

There was no sense in dwelling on uncertainty when so much was at stake. Her duty remained, and there were still many questions that needed answers. The man was a threat, a powerful one, and the mission to deal with him hadn’t changed.

Still, she couldn’t rid herself of the nagging sense that there was more to Moiraine's story than anyone was letting on.

The group continued to prepare for the night’s rest, with the usual routines falling into place. Alanna and Liandrin took their positions guarding the entrance of the cave where Logain was kept, each of them still channeling to maintain the shield that held him contained. Ihvon and Maksim, always at Alanna’s side, kept a silent vigil, their eyes scanning the surrounding forest.

Kerene had other concerns. She motioned for Moiraine to follow her a little ways from the camp. Kerene’s eyes flickered with concern, her voice low but firm as she guided Moiraine to a secluded spot.

“You need rest,” Kerene insisted. “You’re hurt, and you’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

Moiraine didn’t argue, but Elyndria could see the subtle tension in her posture. Moiraine hadn’t been forthcoming about her injuries, but Elyndria could see the signs of wear, the paleness of her face, the stiffness in her step.

Moiraine’s injuries weren’t just from the battles she had fought; Elyndria sensed there was something deeper, something that had taken a toll on her over time. The Blue was no stranger to hardship, but whatever had befallen her had worn her down in a way Elyndria had never seen before.

Inside the cave, Logain continued to mutter to himself, his voice distant but filled with frenzied passion.

Elyndria could still feel the raw power emanating from him, even through the shield they had placed around him. His aura was undeniably strong, and Elyndria had to admit that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

Was he the Dragon Reborn, or was he simply a man who had lost his mind to the power he wielded?

Stepin, who was beginning to start a campfire, cast a glance at her, and Elyndria nodded in acknowledgment of the wariness showing in his eyes. She had no illusions about the dangers they faced. They were far from safe.

As the night stretched on, a chilling thought tugged at the edges of her mind: If this man truly is the Dragon, will he be the one to save the world? Or will he be its destruction?

With those questions left unanswered, Elyndria allowed herself a moment of quiet reflection, watching the flickering light of the campfire dance in the distance. She knew that whatever the future held, the path ahead was fraught with peril, and the truth of who the man was would be the key to everything.

As the sun dipped behind the horizon, the camp came to life with the quiet bustle of setting up for the night. Elyndria worked alongside her Green and Red sisters, though her mind was far from the task at hand. The weight of the mission, and the growing uncertainty surrounding the so call dragon reborn, weighed heavily on her shoulders.

She was sharing a large tent with Alanna, Kerene, Stepin, Ihvon, and Maksim, and the thought of being so close to the Warders for another night made her slightly uneasy. She hoped, more than anything, that Alanna, Ihvon, and Maksim would keep their hands to themselves. The idea of hearing anything from their corner of the tent made her stomach churn, and she hoped the night would pass in peace.

Elyndria took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task before her. She moved toward a pile of supplies and began assembling the extra tent she had set aside for Nynaeve and Lan.

"Here," Elyndria said, offering the tent with a small, welcoming smile. "It’s one of the extras we took from the soldiers’ camp. It should be fine."

Nynaeve gave her a brief, somewhat reluctant look before taking the tent with a stiff nod. "Thanks," she muttered, her tone distant, and Elyndria could tell that Nynaeve was not someone who found comfort easily in others’ kindness.

Elyndria shrugged off the cool reception and pressed on, offering a bit of conversation. "Any companion of Moiraine’s is an acquaintance of mine. I’ve heard a lot about Moiraine from my mentor, Saerel. They’ve been friends since their time as novices."

For a split second, Elyndria saw Nynaeve’s expression soften, just slightly. Perhaps the mention of Moiraine’s friendship with Saerel had opened a small window of warmth in her otherwise guarded demeanor.

Elyndria pressed forward, hoping to continue the conversation.

"Saerel always said that Moiraine’s fighting style was like a dance—deadly, but beautiful," Elyndria added, recalling the countless times Saerel had spoken fondly of her friend’s grace in battle.

Nynaeve’s brow furrowed, and she was about to speak when Lan, who had been standing silently by, spoke up. His deep voice cut through the tension with quiet authority.

"I’ve seen both Moiraine and Saerel fight. They don’t just fight; they move together. There’s a rhythm to it, an elegance." Lan’s gaze lingered on Nynaeve for a moment before he turned to Elyndria. "It’s like watching something... natural. Something in the blood."

Elyndria smiled at the compliment, though she noticed the sincerity in Lan’s words. He wasn’t a man to throw around praise lightly, and there was a quiet admiration in his voice for both women.

"A dance, but one that’s deadly and powerful," Elyndria added with a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood. "I wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of it."

Lan’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though his expression quickly returned to seriousness. "You wouldn’t," he said simply. "But you would respect it, should you ever see it in action."

Elyndria nodded, a quiet agreement settling between them.

She was grateful for the brief moment of levity, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. She wondered what Nynaeve’s true story was, why she seemed so distant, so mistrustful of the Aes Sedai. Elyndria had dealt with enough distrust in her own life to recognize the signs.

For now, she let it slide and moved on to the next task.

After setting up Nynaeve’s tent, Elyndria returned to the main camp where Alanna, Liandrin, and the Warders were getting ready for the night. The Red sisters, particularly Liandrin, weren’t involved in the usual preparations. Their focus was still solely on shielding Logain , who remained under constant guard by Alanna and Liandrin.

Elyndria felt the heaviness of the situation return as she approached the larger tent. Alanna, Ihvon, and Maksim were helping with the perimeter, but the tension in the air was palpable.

She didn’t envy Alanna’s position—keeping the man shielded while making sure the group stayed safe wasn’t an easy task. Logain was a powerful channeler, and even though they had shielded him successfully for now, there was a faint sense of struggle in the air. The weave of the shield wasn't quite as secure as they would have liked, though it was enough to contain him for the time being.

Elyndria took a deep breath as she stepped into the larger tent and helped with the setup. She wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep him contained this way, especially with the uncertainty of his true identity.

The idea that he could be the Dragon Reborn or an imposter had unsettled her from the start, and she still wasn’t convinced.

She didn’t want him to be the Dragon Reborn. Not this man, not someone so lost in his own power.

The camp finally settled, and the Aes Sedai and Warders took their places. Logain was securely contained for now, and Alanna and Liandrin continued to maintain the shield, their focus unbreakable. Meanwhile, Stepin and Lan stood guard at the cave entrance, keeping a watchful eye on the perimeter.

With the tents set up, Elyndria gave Nynaeve and Lan a quiet nod of farewell before retreating to her own small corner of the large tent.

She hoped the night would pass quietly, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that the tensions between the Aes Sedai—between the Greens and Reds—would only grow stronger the longer they continued on this journey. The unknowns surrounding of the mans true identity only added to that unease.

Was he the Dragon Reborn, or just another false prophet?

Only time would tell, and for now, all Elyndria could do was wait and prepare for whatever came next.

---

 

The morning light filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow over the camp. Elyndria had woken early, as she often did, to find some solitude before the day truly began. There was something peaceful about the early hours, when the world still seemed to hold its breath.

She knew they would be on the move again soon, and the task of making sure Logain remained contained, even as his power grew more undeniable, weighed heavily on her mind.

After checking on the warding of the camp, Elyndria made her way into the forest. She needed to gather food for the group, anything to make their rations last longer.

She moved quietly through the underbrush, eyes scanning the ground for herbs, berries, or anything else that could be of use. The trees were dense here, their leaves rich and green, and the sounds of the forest were calming.

Elyndria’s thoughts drifted as she worked, but there was always a part of her alert to the world around her. The mission, Logain, Moiraine’s strange mood. It all remained in the back of her mind.

It wasn’t until she found a patch of wild berries, their deep red fruit hanging from tangled vines, that she heard it.

The faint sound of footsteps crunching through the forest.

At first, she thought it was just an animal, a deer or some other creature making its way through the woods. But then, the unmistakable sound of marching boots reached her ears.

Elyndria froze, her heart racing.

She strained her ears, listening more closely. There were more of them, many more. The sound was unmistakable: a small army, approaching fast.

Her pulse quickened, and she immediately began to move back toward the camp, her mind racing. She had no time to gather more food. The soldiers, whoever they were, would reach the camp within a few minutes. She needed to warn the others.

As she pushed through the undergrowth, her mind raced, wondering who could be approaching them. The only soldiers she had seen on their way to the camp had all been from Logain’s group.

Had someone from the camp been spotted? Was this another faction, drawn to the same rumors that Logain had set in motion?

Or perhaps it was another army altogether, sensing an opportunity to take advantage of the chaos?

Pushing those thoughts aside, Elyndria focused on the task at hand. She broke through the trees and spotted the camp in the distance, its tents still set up, the figures of her sisters visible as they moved around the fire.

She ran toward them, her footsteps hurried and loud as she approached.

“Alanna!” she called out breathlessly. “There’s an army approaching. A small one, but they’re moving quickly.”

Alanna, who had been speaking with Ihvon by the fire, turned sharply at the sound of Elyndria’s voice. Her eyes narrowed, and she immediately reached for the sword at her side. "How far?" she demanded.

“Not far,” Elyndria replied, her voice tight. “Maybe five minutes—ten at most. I don’t know who they are, but they’re coming straight for the camp.”

Alanna’s eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon. She didn’t seem surprised, just grim.

“Get ready,” she ordered quickly, turning toward Liandrin. “Help them shield him in the cave. The rest of us will deal with the soldiers.”

Without a word, Liandrin nodded curtly and moved toward the cave where Moiraine, and Kerene, were already working together to maintain the shield around Logain. The shield was necessary to keep him contained, but Elyndria knew even the combined strength of the Aes Sedai wouldn’t make it easy. His power was immense, and there would be a light struggle to maintain the shield around him.

Turning back to the rest of the camp, Alanna’s voice cut through the rising chaos. “Ihvon, Maksim, take your positions. We’ll defend the camp from the soldiers. Elyndria, stay sharp.”

Elyndria nodded, quickly falling into place beside Ihvon and Maksim, her thoughts racing.

She had seen soldiers before, but there was something different about these men. It wasn’t just the uniforms or their weapons, though they seemed rough and hastily assembled. It was the way they moved—united, with a singular purpose. And the way they surged forward, almost as though they knew exactly where they were going, and why.

Her breath caught as the man at the front of the column came into clearer view. He was leading the charge, and she noticed the crown resting on his head.

A king.

It could only be the King of Ghealdan.

Alanna turned to face her, her voice low but commanding. “Get ready for battle. Stay focused.”

Elyndria nodded sharply, her attention now fully on the soldiers. The camp had already erupted into action. Lan, Stepin, and Nynaeve had joined them, ready for a fight. Four Red Sisters were also there, preparing their own weavings, eager to defend the camp.

Moiraine, Kerene, and Liandrin were already inside the cave, keeping the shield on the Logain, but the outside world was about to descend into chaos.

The distance between the camp and the approaching army was closing quickly. The soldiers were almost upon them, their formation sharp and precise. The man leading them, the king, was at the forefront, his crown gleaming in the sunlight.

Elyndria could feel the weight of his gaze from where she stood. The soldiers were organized and ready for a fight, and Elyndria knew they would stop at nothing to take the man who they thought was the dragon reborn back.

The tension in the air was palpable as the soldiers advanced, closing the distance between them and the camp.

Elyndria’s fingers twitched, a surge of energy stirring within her as she focused on the One Power. She would need her abilities now more than ever. With a deep breath, she calmed her mind, feeling the flow of the Power rush through her.

Alanna's voice rang out, steady and commanding. “Ihvon, Maksim protect the camp. Elyndria, stay with us. We’ll take the first wave.”

Elyndria nodded, her attention narrowing. Her hands raised as the weave of air and fire began to form within her. The wind picked up around her, swirling in an unseen circle, and with a sudden thrust of her hand, she sent a powerful gust of wind toward the advancing soldiers, sending them stumbling backward.

Some were thrown off their feet, crashing to the ground in an disoriented heap.

But they didn’t stop.

As the soldiers regrouped and charged again, Elyndria quickly shifted the flow of the One Power. Her hand flicked toward the ground, and a series of jagged stone spikes erupted from the earth, shooting toward the soldiers in an attempt to slow their advance. Some managed to dodge, but others were not so lucky, their armor rattling as the stone protrusions slammed into their ranks.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she focused, weaving the next attack—fire. Flames shot from her outstretched hands, the heat sizzling the air as the soldiers scattered to avoid the firestorm she sent their way. The flames licked the edges of their formation, forcing them to break apart, but they kept coming, undeterred.

Elyndria’s breathing quickened, the One Power surging within her as she fought.

It wasn’t just the soldiers she had to contend with—it was the constant hum of the mans power from in the cave, thrumming in the back of her mind.

The soldiers were relentless, but Elyndria’s control over the One Power remained sharp.

With a flick of her wrist, she raised a barrier of air between herself and the soldiers, creating a shimmering shield that absorbed their arrows before they could reach her. She sent a pulse of energy forward, propelling herself into the midst of the soldiers, using the One Power to increase her speed.

Behind her, Ihvon and Maksim were in their element, fighting alongside the camp’s defenders with skill and precision, their swords flashing in the sunlight. But it was Aes Sedai’s control of the One Power that was truly turning the tide, the wind and fire working in perfect synchronization.

“Elyndria!” Alanna’s voice cut through the noise of the battle. “Hold them back! We can’t afford to let them breach the camp!”

Elyndria barely acknowledged her, her focus fixed on the next wave of soldiers rushing forward. She gathered the Power once more, this time weaving a net of air to trap several of the soldiers in place, their limbs held fast by invisible tendrils of wind. Their struggling only fueled her determination.

At the cave’s entrance, the sound of battle was muffled, but Elyndria knew that inside, Moiraine, Liandrian and Kerene were holding the shield on the man in the cave, their concentration fierce. She couldn’t afford to let these soldiers get past her.

They had to hold the line, or all would be lost.

She let out a sharp breath as she sent another surge of fire into the fray, catching a few soldiers off-guard. The air grew thick with smoke, but the soldiers were resilient. Some broke through her defenses, but that was expected. She quickly shifted the flow of energy again, creating a sudden gust of wind that sent several soldiers tumbling backward.

Her focus wavered for only a moment as her thoughts flickered toward the cave again.

Would the shield hold?

How much longer could they keep him contained?

Elyndria almost glanced toward the cave’s mouth, but she couldn’t afford to take her eyes off the battle. The King of Ghealdan’s soldiers were relentless, and they were pushing forward.

Her hand rose once more, and this time, she wove a violent storm, calling on the wind and the air to swirl around her in a whirling vortex. It caught the soldiers off guard, the whirlwind growing in intensity until it knocked several men off their feet and sent others scattering.

She didn’t stop. Her mind raced.

The shield. The soldiers. The One Power.

There was no time for hesitation.

“Keep pushing them back!” Alanna’s voice rang in the chaos, and Elyndria nodded to herself, redoubling her efforts. This battle wasn’t just for the camp. It was for the fate of everything that lay ahead.

The battle raged around Elyndria as she summoned the One Power again, her hands weaving intricate patterns of air, fire, and stone. The soldiers were pressing harder, but she could feel the tides turning with each pulse of energy she sent into the fray.

Stepin was nearby, his powerful frame cutting through the chaos with his sword, parrying and striking with unmatched skill. His movements were quick and precise, every swing of his blade taking down a soldier or forcing them to retreat.
Behind her, she caught a glimpse of Lan, his dark figure a constant at Nynaeve’s side. As much as Elyndria wanted to focus on the battle ahead, she couldn’t help but notice Lan’s unwavering vigilance. He stood protectively by Nynaeve, his blade flashing with lethal intent as he cut down soldiers who dared to come too close.

“Stay close!” Lan’s voice rang out, his stance never faltering as he blocked an incoming blow aimed at Nynaeve. He moved fluidly, a blur of motion, keeping his protective position while also fighting off the soldiers.

Stepin, meanwhile, fought with a controlled fury, his long, precise strikes cutting through enemy soldiers with cold efficiency. But Elyndria saw the weariness creeping into his eyes. The battle wasn’t over yet, and more soldiers were beginning to flood the camp from all sides.

She couldn’t afford to let their defense falter now.

The soldiers’ ranks were starting to thin, though, as her weaves of fire and wind wreaked havoc on their formation. She sent another bolt of lightning into the fray, crashing down between two groups of soldiers, causing them to scatter in panic.

Through the chaos, Elyndria could still hear Alanna’s voice cutting through the din. “Hold them back! We cannot let them breach the camp! They will not take him from us!”

Elyndria gritted her teeth, focusing her energy on the next attack. But she couldn’t shake the thought that in the midst of this chaos, somewhere in the cave, Moiraine, Liandrian and Kerene were still fighting to shield the man who called himself the dragon reborn. The uncertainty of what would happen if they failed was a constant weight on her shoulders.

She turned her attention back to the soldiers closing in on her, ready to strike again. The One Power swirled in her hands, and with a determined breath, she unleashed another whirlwind of air, sending soldiers flying in all directions.

Yet, despite the destruction she caused, more soldiers continued to pour in, drawn to the sounds of battle.

Through the melee, Elyndria saw one of the Red Sisters—Liandrian’s closest aide—fighting fiercely on the front line. But then, without warning, an arrow struck her in the shoulder, sending her stumbling back with a cry of pain.

“Stepin!” she shouted, her voice urgent.

He didn’t need to be told. With one powerful swing, he cleared a path to the Red Sister, standing over her protectively, sword raised to fend off any enemies that tried to close in.

Elyndria didn’t hesitate.

She dropped to her knees beside the fallen woman, feeling the pulse of her injury. The arrow had pierced deep, and the blood flowed freely, staining her red dress. Her hands trembled for a moment before she focused, reaching deep into the One Power to heal the wound. She weaved healing threads around the injury, knitting the flesh back together with the skill and precision she’d honed over the years.

The Red Sister’s sharp intake of breath was a sign Elyndria’s work was beginning to take hold. Her skin began to color, and the bleeding slowed. Elyndria pressed her hands more firmly, pushing the last of the healing into the wound.

It was draining, but she had no choice. She couldn’t let the soldier’s arrow take this sister from them, not when they had so much to fight for.

Stepin stood guard, his sword swinging with deadly intent, keeping the soldiers back as Elyndria worked. His expression remained grim as he protected them from any attacks.

After a few more moments, Elyndria finally finished, and the Red Sister’s breathing became more even, the pain fading as her injury healed completely. Elyndria pulled her hands back, exhaustion washing over her.

The Red Sister blinked up at her, then gave a sharp nod, her gaze filled with quiet respect. “Thank you, Aes Sedai,” she said, her voice hoarse, but steady.

Elyndria nodded in return, her breath still heavy from the strain of healing, but she didn’t have time to rest.

The Red Sister wasted no time in getting back to her feet, her hands now glowing faintly with the One Power as she focused back on the fight. She didn’t speak further, but her determined expression and swift return to battle spoke volumes.

Elyndria watched her go, feeling the weight of the battle still pressing in from all sides. But she couldn’t afford to let up. Not when the soldiers were still coming, not when that man was still in the cave, shielded but vulnerable.

The sounds of battle continued to echo around Elyndria, but the tide was turning.

The soldiers were beginning to break, retreating or falling under the relentless onslaught of the Aes Sedai and their warders. Despite the mounting exhaustion in her limbs and the constant pressure of the One Power humming through her, Elyndria pushed forward, determined to hold the line.

"Elyndria!" Alanna’s voice cut through the chaos as she turned toward them. “Ihvon, Maksim, we will take care of the remaining soldiers. We need to end this now. Stepin, Lan, Nynaeve, and the Red Sisters go to the cave. Help Moiraine, Liandrin, and Kerene. Guard Logain. Make sure he doesn’t escape."

Elyndria nodded sharply, acknowledging the order.

There was no time to waste. The soldiers were dwindling, but the danger wasn’t over.

She turned back to the remaining men who were trying to make their last stand and set her focus, ready to finish this. The sounds of battle echoed across the camp, the clash of steel and the sharp cries of soldiers ringing in the air.

Elyndria stood firm, her feet planted on the ground as she used the One Power to hold the remaining soldiers back. The wind whipped around her, pushing the soldiers off balance, while her hands sent surges of fire into their ranks. She had no time to feel for the men she was fighting, there was only the urgency to stop them from reaching Logain.

The soldiers had been relentless, but Alanna's voice rang out with fierce command, cutting through the chaos of battle. “Enough!”

Elyndria stepped back slightly, recognizing the moment.

Alanna would be the one to finish this.

Alanna’s presence was commanding. With a sharp motion of her hand, she gathered the One Power to herself, her face a mask of concentration. Elyndria stepped aside, leaving the final blow to Alanna.

She raised her hands high, and a wave of force—wind, fire, and air—crashed against the soldiers, tearing through their formation. But it wasn’t fire that would consume them.

Instead, it was a violent surge of the One Power, her focus firm and precise, knocking them back with an overwhelming gust. The soldiers struggled, but it was futile. They were cast aside, the ground littered with the fallen, the King of Ghealdan’s crown now a forgotten thing among the blood and dust.

The battle was over.

“Stay close,” Alanna called, her voice steady despite the exhaustion that surely weighed on her. “We need to move quickly. The shield on Logain won’t last forever.”

Elyndria nodded, wiping the sweat from her brow. She didn’t need to be told twice.

They rushed toward the cave, the sound of battle now fading into the distance as they entered the dark mouth of the cavern. Inside, the tension was thick. The air inside the cave was thick with a charged silence, the hum of the One Power weighing heavy in the atmosphere.

Elyndria followed after Alanna as they ran towards the yelling and the feeling of the One Power deeper inside the cave, only having to an abrupt stop as Alanna skidded to halt in front of her.

“No,” Alanna whispered, her voice sounding moments away from breaking.

Elyndria followed her gaze towards the back of the cave, a shaky gasp from her, almost like it had been pulled from her body, as she took in the lifeless form of Kerene; her body still and pale, blood pooling around her waist.

She was dead.

“Sister’s help! Link with me.” Liandrian called out, her voice breathless as struggled to contain Loghain.

Elyndria felt the surge of Logain’s power thrumming against the shield, violent and wild, like a raging storm trying to break free. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt; raw, untamed, and so dangerous.

The Aes Sedai surrounding him were struggling under its force. Without a word, Elyndria stepped forward, her resolve firm. She moved to join the Red Sisters, linking her strength to theirs. Alanna following after only a second later.

They did not have time to mourn Kerene, that would come later.

Liandrin’s eyes flickered toward Elyndria and Alanna as they approached, her expression tight with concentration. They worked in perfect synchronization, drawing on their collective strength to contain the chaotic power of Logain, together they held the shield steady, keeping Logain contained.

Liandrin’s face hardened with determination as she stepped closer to the kneeling Logain. Her voice was cold, authoritative, as she spoke.

"Let the hand of the Tower fall on you, Logain Ablar," Liandrin’s voice rang out, her words like an iron command. "Take back that which nature itself does not wish you to hold!"

A sharp, searing pulse of energy surged from Liandrin’s hands, and the tension in the air seemed to snap.

Logain’s body jerked violently, and for a moment, Elyndria felt a surge of power so overwhelming it almost knocked her off balance. The force of the gentling was like a storm, a final, destructive force that severed Logain from the One Power completely.

The cave fell into a suffocating silence.

Logain collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his face twisted in shock and horror. Blood leaked from his lips as he coughed, his body trembling violently as if the very essence of who he was had been ripped away.

Elyndria’s stomach churned at the sight, but there was no time to dwell on the pain he was experiencing.

He was gentled.

The Red Sisters stood in a tight circle around Logain, their expressions grim but resolute. The gentling was done, and there was nothing more to be done for him. His power was gone, and with it, the threat he posed was over.

But the price had been steep.

Stepin was already beside Kerene’s body, his face grim and hollow, his hands trembling as he attempted to check for any signs of life. Stepin looked up at Elyndria, his expression a mixture of grief and disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came. Instead, he simply knelt beside her, his hands gently cradling her body as he whispered something to her that no one else could hear.

Elyndria moved to his side, her breath caught in her throat. The loss of Kerene was unbearable, the weight of it pressing down on her. She knelt beside Stepin, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, offering what little comfort she could in the moment.

Liandrin stepped forward, her voice low and steady, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of weariness. “We need to get him out of here. He’s no longer a danger, but he’s still the last of the false dragons. We can’t let him roam freely.”

Elyndria nodded, her mind still reeling from the events.

The battle, the gentling, Kerene’s death—it was all too much to process. But there was no time for hesitation. They had a task ahead of them, and Logain’s future whatever it may be was still in their hands.

She glanced toward Moiraine, Nynaeve and Lan, their faces lined with exhaustion but resolute. They had made it through the battle, and now they would see this through to the end.

Elyndria took one last look at Logain, whose face was now streaked with blood, tears, and the unmistakable look of someone broken. He had been a threat, a false dragon, but now, in his gentled state, he was something else—something pitiable.

"Let’s go," Alanna said quietly, her voice calm despite the chaos around them. “We’ve done what we had to do. Now we must move forward.”

The group gathered themselves, Stepin holding Kerene’s body gently, and Logain—broken and gentled—was led away, his future uncertain, but for now, his power sealed forever.

---

The journey back to the White Tower felt like a long, weary procession. The horses moved at a slow, steady pace, the sounds of hooves on the earth the only rhythm accompanying the deep silence that had settled over their group. The night air was thick with tension, the darkness seeming heavier than usual, as if the very land felt the weight of all they had lost.

Two of the Red Sisters had ridden ahead to inform the other Aes Sedai of their success in gentling Logain and the tragic death of Kerene.

The rest of the group moved quietly, each lost in their own thoughts as the cold night deepened around them. Elyndria’s gaze kept drifting to the blanket-covered form of Kerene, lying in the carriage. Her body was still, and for a moment, Elyndria almost couldn’t believe it. Kerene, one of the most formidable women she’d known, was gone. So strong, so capable, now lost.

It hurt more deeply than she had expected.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the final moments. The battle, the gentling of Logain, the way Stepin had held Kerene's body in silence, his face a mask of disbelief. The grief he must be carrying weighed heavy in her heart. She had always admired Kerene, her quiet strength and unshakable resolve, and now she was gone.

It didn’t feel real. There was a part of her that thought she would wake up from this nightmare, but she didn’t.

Alanna, too, was quiet. The fire in her eyes that had burned so brightly during the battle had dimmed. She was no longer the fierce leader she had been on the front lines. Now, her face was softer, more reflective, as if the weight of their recent struggles had finally caught up with her. Elyndria could see the subtle comfort Alanna drew from her warders, Ihvon and Maksim, their silent presence offering her some semblance of peace in the midst of the tragedy.

Lan, ever the protector, rode close to Stepin, his presence a constant reassurance as the man kept close to the carriage.

Stepin hadn’t said much since Kerene’s death, his grief a silent weight that hung between them all. Lan would occasionally glance at him, his expression softening as he offered quiet words of consolation. But Stepin only nodded occasionally, his face drawn tight, eyes distant. He held the silence like it was his only companion.

Elyndria couldn’t stop the waves of grief and sorrow that came crashing over her. She had always been a fighter, strong, resolute but now, she felt strangely fragile.

The burden of what they had just done, of what they had lost, seemed too much to bear. Her powers, the One Power, felt distant, as if it, too, was mourning. It was in moments like these that Elyndria questioned the cost of their battles, the cost of what they were trying to protect.

So much death. So much loss.

The woods stretched out endlessly before them, the shadows of the trees swallowing the light from the stars above. It was in this silence, this heavy stillness, that Elyndria found herself singing, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper, but it carried through the dark.

It was an old song, one she had learned when she was young. A lullaby the servants used to sing to her when she was a little girl, scared of the dark, her fears soothed by the simple melody.

Elyndria didn’t know why she had begun to sing it. Perhaps it was a need to find something comforting, something familiar in the midst of all the uncertainty and grief. The tune had always been a solace to her, a way to quiet the anxiety that haunted her childhood.

The words were low, almost lost to the wind:

"Hush now, child, the night is near,
Let the stars dry every tear,
Close your eyes and drift to sleep,
For the night will hold you deep."

Her voice carried on, soft and soothing, the words tumbling out like memories from long ago. It wasn’t a song of victory or triumph, but one of comfort. One that spoke of safety, of warmth in the darkest of times.

Nynaeve, who had been riding quietly beside her, turned her head at the sound. The young woman’s face was still marked with exhaustion and sorrow, but the song seemed to soften the hard edges of the pain for just a moment.

“What is that song?” Nynaeve asked, her voice low, tentative, as though she was afraid to break the fragile peace the melody had brought.

Elyndria didn’t stop singing at first, lost in the memories the song evoked. But at Nynaeve’s question, she slowed, her voice barely above a whisper now.

“It’s a lullaby... one the servants used to sing to me when I was small,” she replied, her tone soft, almost nostalgic. “When I was afraid of the dark. They would sing it to me at night, and it always helped. It made me feel safe, like the darkness couldn’t reach me.”

Nynaeve nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful. “I never would’ve guessed you were afraid of the dark,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Elyndria chuckled softly, though it lacked its usual lightness. “I was a child, Nynaeve. We all have our fears when we’re young.”

She took a deep breath and looked around at their group. The sight of Stepin, his expression still clouded with grief, hit her again. She felt her own heart tighten.

“Sometimes, when everything feels too much... when the darkness feels like it might swallow us whole,” Elyndria continued, her voice a little stronger now, “it helps to have something familiar to hold onto. To remember there was a time when we could find peace in simple things.”

Nynaeve stayed quiet for a moment, looking ahead into the darkness. But when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I think I understand.”

Elyndria nodded, letting the silence fill the space between them as she began to sing again, her words echoing in the woods like a soft, comforting presence. The night seemed to grow a little less dark, the heavy weight of grief and loss momentarily lightened by the simple act of singing.

And so, they continued their journey back to the White Tower, the melody of the lullaby carrying them through the night, a faint, gentle reminder that even in the darkest times, there could still be a flicker of light to hold onto.

Chapter 9: Shadows and Secrets

As the group approached the White Tower, the city of Talvalon seemed to fall silent in its wake. The Tower loomed ahead, its towering spires the heart of the Aes Sedai and the center of all their power.

But the streets around it painted a stark contrast.

People filled the streets, their faces twisted in anger and fear as they threw food, insults, and curses at Logain, who was still bound in a pitiful state.

His head hung low, blood trickling down his chin, his body bruised. The venom from the crowd was overwhelming, yet Elyndria couldn’t bring herself to feel anything for him.

Not after what he had done. Not after Kerene’s death.

The noise from the crowd was deafening, but Elyndria stayed silent, her gaze fixed ahead, her face neutral, her expression unreadable. Her heart was heavy, but her thoughts were cold. She had no pity left for the man who had killed one of their own, no empathy for his suffering. He was a casualty of his own actions, and in the end, she felt nothing but indifference for his fate.

The crowd continued to shout insults, hurling rotten vegetables and stale bread at Logain. Yet, Elyndria kept her gaze straight ahead, focusing on the Tower.

The tension in the air was thick, but she kept her eyes forward, her mind numb to the noise and chaos around her. It felt like an eternity before they reached the entrance of the White Tower, but when they did, the shift in atmosphere was palpable.

A solemn group of Aes Sedai stood waiting at the gates. They didn’t acknowledge Logain’s presence, their attention instead focused on the carriage where Kerene’s body had been placed. The body was covered with a simple blanket, an unspoken sign of reverence. The sisters moved with quiet resolve, gathering around the carriage, forming a circle as they began to chant in low, hushed voices.

Elyndria felt the weight of the moment settle on her. She stepped forward, joining the others in the chant. Her voice was a whisper, just like the others, a prayer for Kerene’s soul, an acknowledgment of her life, her strength, and the sacrifices she had made.

The words were ancient, and in them, there was peace. But the ache in Elyndria’s chest didn’t fade. She would carry this grief with her for a long time.

Alanna stood beside her, her usually fierce presence softened by sorrow. She too had joined in the chant, her voice low and steady, but there was a sadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

As the chant continued, Saerel, who been with the other Aes Sedai, moved away from the group. She approached them slowly, her expression filled with sorrow, but also something more. There was a slight tension in her posture, a subtle uncertainty in the way she moved.

“You’ve done all you could,” Saerel said, her voice gentle but firm. “But you all need rest. The Amyrlin Seat will want to speak with you soon about what has happened, but there is no hurry. Go to your rooms. Rest. You’ve earned it.”

Elyndria glanced over at Alanna, who gave a slight nod. The decision was clear. There would be time for debriefing later, but for now, they needed to rest, to process the immense weight of what had transpired.

Elyndria gave Saerel a small nod in acknowledgment, but just as she turned to follow Alanna, her attention was drawn to something else.

Saerel, after speaking with them, glanced over at Moiraine. Her expression shifted—there was confusion in her eyes, tension in her posture. She approached Moiraine slowly, her steps quiet, her voice low and urgent. Elyndria couldn’t hear their conversation, but she could see the way they stood close, heads bowed together, speaking in hushed tones.

Something about the exchange seemed important, but also guarded.

Elyndria watched them for a moment, a flicker of curiosity stirring inside her. She wondered if Saerel was asking Moiraine about her secret mission, the one that had something to do with the Dragon Reborn. Seeing Saerel so tense, so focused, it only made her more curious.

But after a moment, Elyndria decided not to linger. She could guess at the nature of their conversation, but there were more pressing matters for her to focus on. With a quiet breath, she turned away, following Alanna into the Tower.

Her heart was heavy with grief, her mind spinning with questions, but for now, she knew she needed rest. The world would still turn when she awoke. The conversation between Saerel and Moiraine would have to wait.

---

Elyndria awoke with a start, her heart racing from the restless sleep that had done little to ease the weight of the past few days.

The images of the battle, Kerene’s death, and the grief that had settled so heavily in her chest still haunted her, refusing to let her rest. She sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin.

The faint knock at the door startled her.

She wasn’t expecting anyone—at least, not so soon.

“Enter,” she called, her voice hoarse from the sleep and the long journey she’d endured.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Leane Sharif, the Domani Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah.

Her presence was commanding, as always, though her gaze was softer than usual. Leane’s striking features and poised confidence were tempered by a quiet understanding in her eyes, and her calm demeanor made Elyndria feel like she was being drawn back into the reality she had been avoiding.

“Elyndria,” Leane greeted, her tone gentle yet firm. “The Amyrlin Seat would speak with you. Now.”

The weight of those words settled heavily on Elyndria’s shoulders. Siuan Sanche. The Amyrlin Seat. Elyndria knew what this meeting was about.

She had been expecting it since they returned to the Tower. She nodded, pushing herself from the bed, her body aching from the emotional toll of the past events.

Leane stood back to allow Elyndria to gather herself. It didn’t take long, and soon they were walking down the stone halls of the White Tower, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the silence. Elyndria’s mind raced as they approached the Hall of the Tower, her heart heavy with uncertainty.

She didn’t know what to expect from this meeting, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

When they finally reached the Hall of the Tower, Leane stepped aside, allowing Elyndria to enter first. The room was large, filled with high stone arches and the faint scent of incense in the air. Siuan Sanche sat upon her throne, the symbol of her authority as the leader of the Aes Sedai, her eyes sharp as they locked onto Elyndria.

The Amyrlin was a woman of striking presence; dark hair framing her face, eyes cold and calculating, yet beneath it all, there was an underlying warmth and a fierce determination that had earned her the respect of all Aes Sedai. The title of “Mother” wasn’t just a formality; it was something earned.

“Elyndria,” Siuan said, her voice smooth but carrying an undeniable edge. “I’ve been told you’ve returned from your mission. And I’ve heard... troubling things.” She motioned for Elyndria to approach.

Elyndria stepped forward, trying to keep her posture steady, despite the turbulent emotions that threatened to rise. She didn’t want to get into it, but she knew the Amyrlin had to hear the truth. She lowered her gaze briefly before meeting Siuan’s eyes.

“I have completed the mission, Mother,” Elyndria began. “Logain was gentled before he could cause any more death. The situation was… dire. I followed what I believed was the best course of action, given the circumstances.”

Siuan’s sharp eyes didn’t leave her face, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice cold but firm. “You gentled Logain?” Siuan’s tone had shifted, hardening. “Do you realize what you’ve done, Elyndria? That decision… goes against the laws of the Aes Sedai. He should have stood trial first. That is the way we handle things. This was not your call.”

Elyndria stood tall, despite the weight of the accusation. “I understand the laws, Mother,” she said, her voice steady. “But I wasn’t alone in making the decision. Liandrian and the Red Sisters took charge. The situation escalated quickly, and we had no choice. We were outnumbered, and Logain would have killed more of us if we had let him continue. He had to be stopped.”

Siuan’s expression remained unreadable, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed Elyndria’s words. “The Red Ajah was involved?” she asked, her voice laced with a deeper tension.

Elyndria nodded. “Yes. Liandrian took the lead. It was her decision, alongside the Red Sisters, to act immediately. I... I helped, but I wasn’t the one to initiate the gentling.”

Siuan remained silent for a long moment, her gaze sharp and calculating. Finally, she leaned back in her seat, a long breath escaping her. “This is the life of an Aes Sedai, Elyndria. It is harsh. We make hard decisions every day. But you must learn that not following procedure, no matter the reason, undermines everything we stand for.” Her eyes softened just slightly. “Still, the fault does not entirely fall on you. You were not in charge.”

Elyndria let out a quiet breath, feeling the weight of Siuan’s words but also the sting of the situation. She had followed the Red Sisters’ lead, but it still weighed heavily on her conscience. She nodded slowly, accepting Siuan’s judgment, even as she felt it was too little, too late.

Siuan’s gaze sharpened again as she continued, shifting the conversation. “Tell me, Elyndria... what about Moiraine Sedai? Why was she with you on this mission?”

The question caught Elyndria off guard.

She hesitated, feeling the tension in the room mount. “We met in the woods, Mother. She was... traveling in a small group of three, and we decided to join forces. It seemed like the right decision at the time. There had been shadowspawn who had been hunting their group. She proved herself valuable later in the battle.”

Siuan’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing. “That woman is always a mystery. And what of the girl she brought with her?”

Elyndria felt her pulse quicken, the mention of the girl sending a ripple of unease through her. She had sensed the same reluctance from Moiraine and Nynaeve, the two women careful with their words and their presence. Elyndria was not blind to the suspicion hanging in the air.

“I... I don’t know much about her, Mother,” Elyndria admitted, her voice lowering. “Moiraine and Nynaeve are... tight-lipped. Nynaeve is very untrusting of others, and Moiraine does not speak of her often. I... can’t say much beyond that.”

Siuan’s gaze never wavered, her expression unreadable but sharp. “You may not know much now, but be careful. Secrets are not something to be taken lightly in this Tower. You’ve done well, but you must remain vigilant.”

Elyndria nodded, the weight of Siuan’s words settling over her. There was more to Moiraine and Nynaeve than she realized, and she could sense the danger of being caught in whatever web they were weaving.

But there was nothing more she could do for now.

“And Moiraine’s Warder,” Siuan’s voice cut through the silence, drawing Elyndria’s attention once more. “Lan Mandragoran. What of him?”

Elyndria blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sudden mention of Lan. She had almost forgotten that part of the equation, the stoic Warder who had accompanied Moiraine with such unwavering loyalty.

“Lan…” Elyndria’s voice softened. “He was with Moiraine, as her Warder. His presence was... as expected. I don’t know much about him, but he was useful in the battle. A skilled fighter, and he kept close to Moiraine at all times. They are… well, they’re very much in tune with each other.”

Siuan’s eyes glittered, a knowing look passing between them. “And yet, you don’t find him as intriguing as his bond with Moiraine?”

Elyndria shook her head, her brow furrowing. “I didn’t focus on that, Mother. The battle was everything. I… didn’t have time to think about anything else.”

Siuan’s lips tightened, though there was a hint of approval in her gaze. “You did your duty, Elyndria. But be wary. A Warder is not just an extension of their Aes Sedai. Their bond runs deeper than that.”

Elyndria nodded again, feeling the weight of the conversation settle even further. There was a lot more happening with Moiraine, Lan, and Nynaeve than she had initially understood. But for now, she was left with more questions than answers.

“Rest, Elyndria,” Siuan said after a long pause, her voice no longer stern but softer, almost maternal. “You will need it. The days ahead will not be easy, but you are stronger than you realize.”

As Elyndria turned to leave, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more complicated was unfolding within the Tower. Moiraine’s secrecy, Nynaeve’s reluctance, Lan’s silent watchfulness... Elyndria had a sinking feeling that there were still many truths left to uncover.

And she would need to be ready.

---

 

It had been two days since Elyndria’s return to the White Tower. Logain had stood trial before Siuan and the other Aes Sedai, and the decision was made. He would be held in the Tower under constant guard, a prisoner of his own unraveling mind, slowly losing his sanity.

Elyndria had witnessed the trial, the stern judgment of Siuan, and the quiet murmurs of the Aes Sedai. It left her feeling unsettled, but she found peace now in the Tower garden.

The flowerbed had always been a place of calm for Elyndria.

Surrounded by the blooming flowers, it reminded her of simpler days—days when she was just a child, helping the servants tend to the gardens. They would braid her long, pale blonde hair and weave flowers through it, laughing as they worked together in the sunlight. Now, as she stood by the flowers, the scent of the earth and the soft buzz of bees brought a sense of serenity, but it also made her feel the weight of the changes around her.

Elyndria was lost in her thoughts when she heard a soft step behind her.

She didn’t need to turn to know it was Saerel. The woman had been silent and distant since Elyndria’s return. Whenever she’d seen Saerel in passing, it had been in the presence of Alanna or Moiraine. But now, Saerel approached her in the quiet of the garden.

Saerel sighed heavily, sitting down next to Elyndria without a word. Her face was drawn, as if the weight of something heavy had taken its toll. It was clear that something had been troubling her for days.

After a long silence, Saerel spoke softly, “Stepin is dead.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and painful.

Elyndria’s heart clenched in surprise. Stepin, the kind-hearted warder, had always seemed so full of life. He had a warmth about him when not in the heat of battle, always with a friendly word or a smile. To think of him gone, taken by the darkness of grief, left Elyndria shocked and disheartened.

“He... he took his own life,” Saerel continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Stabbed himself in the stomach. He couldn’t bear it anymore. A warder doesn’t last long without his Aes Sedai. Not after she’s gone.”

Elyndria felt a deep sorrow for Saerel, she had known him for much longer then her. She had known Stepin only in passing, but the loss of someone like him still struck Elyndria deeply. She wanted to say something comforting, but the words seemed hollow.

Instead, she offered a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

Saerel gave a faint nod but didn’t speak further on the matter. After a long pause, Saerel’s expression hardened slightly, and she looked at Elyndria with a serious gaze.

“I’ve heard things, Elyndria. Since you’ve been gone... things are changing. Some sisters are starting to lean toward Liandrian. Loyalty to Siuan is wavering.”

Elyndria stiffened.

Liandrian was a woman whose ambition knew no bounds. Elyndria had always sensed something cold and sharp about her, like a blade hidden beneath a velvet glove. She was dangerous, and Elyndria didn’t trust her.

“I won’t turn away from Siuan,” Elyndria said, her voice firm. “I will always be loyal to her. Liandrian has too much of a knife’s edge to her. She’s not someone I would ever trust.”

Saerel’s gaze softened, and she nodded in agreement. “I see it too. She carries an edge that cuts deeper than you might think. Be careful, Elyndria. The winds are shifting, and we may not have control over where they blow.”

Elyndria remained seated as Saerel left, the quiet settling back into the space between them. The world felt heavy on her shoulders, a burden she hadn’t expected to carry.

She gazed at the flowerbed again, her eyes drawn to the delicate dandelions, their fragile yellow heads swaying gently in the breeze. Her mind raced with everything Saerel had said, with everything that had happened.

She reached down and plucked a dandelion, the pollen dusting her fingertips as she held it delicately. She closed her eyes and whispered a quiet prayer for Stepin. In that moment, she could feel the weight of loss pressing in on her once again, and she blew gently on the dandelion, watching as the pollen floated off into the air, carried by the wind.

The flower, like the pollen, was fleeting.

So much in her life seemed uncertain and fragile now. Elyndria didn’t know what the future held, but in this quiet moment, she offered a prayer for those lost—and a hope that the path ahead wouldn’t lead them all into darkness.

Elyndria had stayed in the by the garden bed for another hour before making her way back into the White Tower. She was still lost in her thoughts when she turned a corner, her mind swirling with the conversation she had just had with Saerel.

But her reverie was broken when she bumped into someone—hard.

"Ah! I'm so sorry," Nynaeve’s voice rang out, followed by a soft gasp. She stepped back, blinking, her hand pressed to her stomach as if she might have been the one knocked off balance.

Elyndria took a step back too, startled by the sudden encounter.

"No, it’s fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going," Elyndria replied, smiling faintly at the flustered woman in front of her.

Nynaeve’s face, flushed with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, was a bit red. Elyndria realized then that the younger woman seemed a bit out of sorts.

"Are you alright?" Elyndria asked, furrowing her brow slightly. "You seem... lost."

Nynaeve raised an eyebrow, her eyes scanning the hallway as though she had no idea where she was. "I’m just hungry," she muttered. "Was looking for the kitchens but got turned around somewhere."

Elyndria smiled slightly. "I know the feeling. I can show you the way if you'd like."

Nynaeve gave a small, quiet nod. "Sure," she replied, her tone guarded.

They began walking down the corridor, the silence between them comfortable but distant.

After a while, Nynaeve spoke again, her voice quieter, almost hesitant. "I was thinking about something you said the other day. About the servants singing you lullabies when you were little. I didn’t think children were allowed in the Tower."

Elyndria paused for a moment, considering how to answer. "I wasn’t exactly raised here as you might think," she replied quietly. "I was found on the steps of the White Tower when I was three. Left there with no family, no one to care for me. The Aes Sedai took me in, but it was the servants who really raised me. They were the ones who braided my hair, who sang to me when I couldn’t sleep. The Aes Sedai didn’t really pay attention to me until I showed them my power. Until I could do something they could recognize."

Nynaeve didn’t respond immediately, her face unreadable. Finally, she glanced sideways at Elyndria, her voice flat. "So why would you want to be Aes Sedai if they didn’t even care about you?"

Elyndria’s face softened, the sadness of her memories lingering. "I didn’t want to end up like the ones who couldn’t control their power," she said quietly. "I heard the stories—people who accidentally hurt others, or worse. I didn’t want to be that. So I worked hard. Even when the Aes Sedai didn’t notice me, I pushed myself."

Nynaeve stayed silent for a moment, her expression distant as she digested the words. Then, in her typical blunt manner, she replied, "So it’s about finding your place?"

Elyndria turned to look at her as they walked, her eyes thoughtful. "Exactly," she said softly. "And finding the strength to protect others, even when that strength means sacrifices."

Nynaeve didn’t respond immediately, her face impassive. She nodded once, but there was no warmth in the gesture, just a quiet acknowledgment. "I guess we all find our place in the end," she said, her voice still distant.

They stopped in front of the kitchen doors, and for a brief moment, there was an uncomfortable silence. Elyndria had the distinct feeling Nynaeve wanted to say more, but either couldn’t or simply didn’t want to. The wall between them remained intact, but Elyndria could see the faintest trace of understanding in Nynaeve’s eyes.

Elyndria broke the silence with a soft sigh. "I didn’t really understand it all back then. But over time, the Aes Sedai became like mentors to me. And when I joined the Greens... it was like becoming part of a family. Even though the Aes Sedai are often seen as cold, as unapproachable, I’ve learned that they are not just black and white, not all evil or all good. There’s a lot of grey between the extremes. Every sister has her struggles, her secrets, and her choices to make. The Tower is made of so many layers, so many different lives intertwined. It’s not always perfect, but it’s still something worth fighting for."

Nynaeve didn’t answer right away, but the silence between them felt different now, softer. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice low but sincere. "Thank you. I’ll find my way from here."

Elyndria nodded, offering her a small, understanding smile. "Take care, Nynaeve."

Nynaeve gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod before pushing open the kitchen doors. The warmth of the room spilled out into the hallway, and Elyndria stood there for a moment, watching her go.

As the door closed behind Nynaeve, Elyndria turned and walked down the corridor, her thoughts still swirling. She couldn’t help but feel that the Tower was a place of constant change.

The people, the politics, everything was shifting. And Nynaeve—however closed off and guarded—was a part of that change. Perhaps more than she knew.

With a sigh, Elyndria continued on, the quiet stillness of the Tower surrounding her once again. Elyndria returned to her room late that evening, her mind still whirling from the conversations of the day. The Tower was on the brink of something, she could feel it in her bones. But for now, she was alone, or so she thought, as she closed the door behind her.

As she stepped into the dim light of her chamber, her eyes fell on a small piece of parchment resting on her pillow.

It was a note, hastily written, and her name was scrawled in a familiar hand: Saerel. Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly picked up the note and began to read it.

Elyndria,

Come to my room tonight, but be discreet. Do not let anyone see you. It’s important.

– Saerel

The urgency in the note struck her. There was something about it that made Elyndria hesitate, but she didn’t have much time to think. She could feel her pulse quicken as she made her way out of her room, careful to avoid the bustling halls. The Tower was quieter at night, but the shadows cast by flickering lanterns always made her feel like someone might be watching.

She moved quickly, avoiding the usual corridors and passageways she knew too well, finally finding her way to Saerel’s door.

A soft knock, and she was inside.

The room was dimly lit by a single candle. The air was thick with tension. Moiraine stood near the window, her arms crossed, her brow furrowed in an expression of displeasure. Saerel was seated at a small table, her expression thoughtful, but she glanced up when Elyndria entered.

Elyndria felt the weight of the room immediately. Something was off. Moiraine’s eyes flickered toward her, filled with a flicker of annoyance before she quickly masked it. Saerel, however, was silent. Elyndria stepped inside cautiously, closing the door behind her.

“What’s going on?” Elyndria asked quietly, sensing the storm brewing in the air. She kept her tone neutral, trying to read the room as best as she could.

Saerel stood, her gaze intense but calm. She took a breath before speaking, her voice low but clear. “You’ve become stronger than I could have ever hoped when I first began mentoring you, Elyndria. Stronger than I thought possible.” She paused, her eyes locking with Elyndria’s. “And I need that strength for something. A mission, one I’m asking you to undertake.”

Elyndria’s brows furrowed, instinctively sensing something more at play. She glanced at Moiraine, who had stepped closer to them, her lips pressing into a thin line. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped abruptly, looking ready to interrupt.

But before Moiraine could say a word, Saerel spoke sharply, cutting her off. "No, Moiraine. You will listen," she said firmly.

Moiraine stiffened, her jaw tightening. She held Saerel’s gaze for a long moment, a brief flicker of something unspoken between them. Then, with a barely audible sigh, Moiraine crossed her arms and stepped back, acquiescing to Saerel’s command but clearly not pleased. She cast Elyndria a sideways glance, her disapproval written plainly on her face, but said nothing.

Elyndria’s pulse quickened, but she nodded. “A mission?” she repeated, trying to process the weight of Saerel’s words. “What kind of mission?”

Saerel didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she crossed to a small cabinet and retrieved a folded piece of parchment. She walked back to Elyndria, handing it to her. Elyndria unfolded it carefully, her eyes scanning the details. Her eyes immediately going to the name of the Amryil seat at the bottom of the parchment.

“This mission will take you out of the Tower, Elyndria. With Moiraine and others. It’s dangerous, and it’s not something that can be done lightly. But Siuan has made it clear that you are to go as well.” Elyndria’s fingers tightened around the parchment as the weight of Saerel’s words settled into her chest. Moiraine, still standing at the window, shifted uncomfortably as Saerel stepped back, her eyes never leaving Elyndria’s. There was something heavy in the air; an anticipation that had no words, only the promise of a burden too great to ignore.

“What exactly do you need me to do?” Elyndria repeated, her voice steady despite the knot of unease in her stomach. The mission sounded dangerous, but the secrecy surrounding it made her feel more like a pawn than an active participant.

Saerel’s gaze softened slightly as she watched Elyndria. “You will be accompanying Moiraine. Together, you will take five others to the Eye of the World.”

Elyndria’s breath caught at the mention of the Eye of the World. She knew that name. The Eye of the World was sacred, significant, legendary even. It was said to be the place where the Dark One’s prison was bound, sealed by the Last Dragon, an ancient and powerful being. If the Dark One’s prison were ever breached… the world would fall. Elyndria had heard whispers, rumors of this place, but hearing its name so plainly struck a deep chord in her.

Her heart raced, a surge of cold fear running through her veins. The Dark One. A sickening taste rose in her mouth at the thought of him. His presence lingered like a shadow in the world, threatening to collapse everything she had fought for. Just the thought of him, of his power, made Elyndria want to recoil. His reach was wide, his power unimaginable. Elyndria had always sensed that, deep within her, and the idea of confronting it made her skin crawl.

Moiraine shifted, no longer able to remain silent. She turned to face Elyndria, her face taut, full of unease and frustration. "The five people who will go with you are important," she began, her voice low but firm. "But there is one among them who is far more significant than the rest. The Dragon Reborn." She paused, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Elyndria, as though weighing the impact of her words. “I don’t know who it is yet. But I do know this—they’re among them. And we must protect them at all costs.”

Elyndria’s breath hitched.

The Dragon Reborn?

The one who would face the Dark One directly, wielding power greater than any Aes Sedai?

The thought was overwhelming, to say the least. Elyndria’s mind raced—five people, and among them, the most dangerous being to ever walk the earth.

But how would they know who the Dragon was?

What if they chose the wrong one?

Or worse, what if they failed?

Moiraine continued, her voice softening slightly but remaining resolute. "Nynaeve and Egwene have both shown exceptional talent with the One Power," she said, nodding. Elyndria’s brow furrowed. She had not realised that Nynaeve had abilities. And the mention of Egwene was entirely new to her.

“They both have great potential,” Moiraine continued, “and will play key roles in this mission. The others are unique in their own right, each with gifts of their own. There all know each other. I found them in a village when I was on my mission to find the dragon reborn. But…” Moiraine’s voice trailed off slightly, and Elyndria caught the weight of her words. She was trying to make this sound less ominous than it truly was.

Elyndria didn’t respond immediately. Her heart beat faster, the thoughts swirling in her mind threatening to overwhelm her. Five people. One of them was the Dragon Reborn.

How could they possibly bear the burden of the Dragon’s fate?

And yet, they had no choice.

“The Eye of the World is where the Dark One’s prison was sealed,” Elyndria said quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain calm. “But… it also means the Dark One is connected to that place. If we go there…” She swallowed hard, the thought chilling her.

“I know,” Moiraine said shortly, her face tight. "I know the dangers. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it weren’t absolutely necessary. But there is no other choice. We have to stop him before he escapes."

Elyndria’s thoughts tumbled together in a maelstrom of anxiety. She had trained for this, learned to fight, learned to wield the One Power, but this….this felt different. The Dark One wasn’t a distant threat. He wasn’t a shadow they could push aside. He was the embodiment of chaos, destruction, and evil. His very name made Elyndria feel ill, and just the thought of facing him brought a cold weight to her chest.

She was strong, yes, but was she strong enough for this?

“What do you need from me?” Elyndria asked, her voice quieter now, the fear in her stomach palpable.

Saerel’s steady gaze met hers. “Your strength, your ability to fight, your loyalty. We will need everything you have to help us in this.” Her voice was measured, calm like a mentor, like a leader. “You’ll be going into a world where nothing is certain, where every moment could be your last. But you have the power to make a difference.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, the weight of her decision settling on her. There was no going back now. This wasn’t just about herself anymore. It was about protecting the world. She had trained, she had learned, and she had grown. If she could face the unknown, then perhaps she could face the Dark One. Perhaps they all could.

But doubt still lingered, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

Could she face the horror of what awaited them?

Could she stand up to the Dark One and his endless hunger for destruction?

The question remained unanswered, hanging in the air between them, even as Moiraine turned to the window again, her posture tense and withdrawn.

“You will leave soon,” Saerel said, breaking the silence. “Make sure you’re ready.”

Elyndria took a deep breath. She had no choice but to be ready. The Eye of the World was calling, and the Dark One’s reach was stretching further, closer, with each passing moment. The winds of fate were shifting, and Elyndria was about to be swept into something much larger than herself.

As the heavy silence lingered in the room, Moiraine’s footsteps echoed as she left nodding to both Saerel and Elyndria, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft finality.

Elyndria remained still for a moment, the weight of the mission pressing on her chest. But as the door closed, Saerel finally let out a deep sigh, the sound heavy with a mix of worry and something more—a quiet, almost maternal concern.

She moved away from the table, her gaze shifting to Elyndria’s face.

Elyndria met her eyes, but Saerel’s expression softened with something that resembled fondness, though tinged with sadness. She crossed the room, her movements slower now, as if she had grown burdened by the weight of what she had just asked of Elyndria.

“It pains me to listen to Siuan about this,” Saerel murmured, her voice quiet, yet laden with sincerity. “I know you’re strong, Elyndria. But this… this is something entirely different from any mission an Aes Sedai does in the White Tower.”

Her gaze didn’t leave Elyndria’s face, as though searching for something. Perhaps reassurance, perhaps the confidence that she, too, was ready for what was coming.

Elyndria could feel the weight of the words, the gravity of what Saerel was trying to convey. This wasn’t just another mission. This wasn’t a simple task of protecting the Tower or gathering information. No, this was about confronting the Dark One, the very force of destruction that threatened the world’s existence. She could sense the depth of Saerel’s concern, and it was almost enough to make Elyndria hesitate. But she couldn’t afford hesitation, not now.

She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to remain steady, and then took a step closer to Saerel. Despite the fear that churned in her gut, she would not show weakness. Not now.

“I understand,” she said, her voice low but firm. “I’m scared too, Saerel. I don’t know what we’ll face. But I won’t put myself in reckless danger. I promise you that.”

Saerel’s eyes softened even further, though the worry still lingered. “You don’t know what lies ahead, Elyndria. The Dark One, there’s no telling what kind of trials we’ll have to endure. No one can predict it.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, her mind racing with thoughts of the looming danger. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she forced herself to look Saerel in the eye.

“I’ll be cautious,” she assured her. “I’ll stay vigilant. And I won’t be alone. Moiraine will be with me, and the others too. We’ll fight together.” Her words were tinged with a quiet resolve, an unspoken promise to herself and to Saerel.

Saerel let out another sigh, this time softer, but still full of concern. She reached out and placed a hand on Elyndria’s shoulder, her touch warm and steady. “I know you’ll do your best. You always do. But remember, this isn’t just about strength or power. It’s about survival. And sometimes survival means being willing to walk away from the fight when it’s not worth it. Don’t lose sight of that.”

“I won’t,” Elyndria replied, her voice unwavering. “We’ll protect each other. I won’t let anything happen to anyone. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

There was a brief moment of silence as Saerel studied Elyndria, her eyes softening further, almost like a mentor gazing at a pupil she had watched grow.

She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“I know you will,” Saerel said quietly. “But be careful, Elyndria. Even the strongest among us can be tested beyond their limits. This is the fight of our lives, and it will push every boundary. But… you’re ready for this. I have no doubt.”

Elyndria looked at Saerel, trying to take in the weight of her words. She didn’t want to admit how scared she truly felt. She didn’t want to admit that the thought of facing the Dark One, the embodiment of all that was evil in the world, made her heart race with fear.

But she would not let that fear rule her. She couldn’t.

She would fight, and she would protect those she cared about, no matter the cost.

“I’ll be ready,” Elyndria said, her voice stronger now. “I won’t let fear stop me. We’re doing this for the world.”

Saerel’s gaze softened for a moment, her lips curving slightly into a faint but genuine smile. She nodded again, her hand lingering on Elyndria’s shoulder for just a moment longer before she stepped back. “You’ve grown more than I ever expected, Elyndria. I’m proud of you. And whatever happens… I know you’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

Elyndria smiled, the weight of her fear and doubt still there, but now tempered with a sense of purpose. She wasn’t alone in this. She had Saerel’s faith in her, and she would fight to earn it.

“Thank you, Saerel,” she said quietly. “I won’t let you down.”

Saerel gave her a final, lingering look before nodding. “You won’t. Now, get some rest. Tomorrow, the real journey begins.”

With that, the two women stood in the quiet of the room, the unspoken understanding between them heavy in the air. Elyndria knew the road ahead would be difficult, filled with trials she couldn’t even begin to imagine. But one thing was certain: she would face it head-on, and she would not face it alone.

As she turned to leave the room, her heart still pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, Elyndria took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Whatever lay ahead, she would meet it with strength and with the hope that they could prevail.

Chapter 10: Through the Veil

As Elyndria rode through the early morning, the White Tower slowly receded from her view. The quiet departure left a heavy feeling in her chest. She might never return to this place that had been both her home and her cage. The weight of it pressed on her heart as she turned her gaze towards the distant silhouette of the Tower one last time.

She couldn’t be sure of what lay ahead. The mission was dangerous, and she was scared. Truly scared, for herself and the lives of those she’d come to care for. Her thoughts kept circling back to the same truth: she might not come back.

Her mind was pulled from these thoughts by the rhythmic sound of her horse’s hooves striking the earth beneath her. She pushed on, feeling the wind in her hair, trying to quiet the unease that twisted in her stomach. The road ahead was long, but she would make it. For herself. For those who would come after.

The journey took the rest of the night, and as the sun began to rise in the sky, Elyndria found herself at the base of Dragonmount. The towering, jagged peaks loomed in front of her like silent sentinels, marking the location of the Waygate Moiraine had mentioned. The air felt different here—charged, as though the land itself held its breath. Elyndria could feel something ominous in the wind as she gazed up at the mountain.

A sharp, rocky path led her to a hidden entrance in the mountainside. There, standing near the Waygate, was Moiraine, her dark cloak barely moving in the still air. Lan stood nearby, his sharp gaze scanning their surroundings. And then there were the others.

Elyndria’s eyes flicked over them quickly. An ogier, two women and three men—none of them older than she, but all of the humans held something powerful, something untapped, something dangerous. They were a mix of suspicion and curiosity as they looked her over.

Moiraine turned to Elyndria with a nod. "I see you’ve made it," she said, her voice steady, but there was a certain tightness to it. "This is where the journey truly begins."

The six others stood stiffly as Moiraine introduced them. "This is Perrin Aybara," she said, gesturing to the dark-skinned young man, who towered over everyone else, his eyes steady and unreadable. "Egwene al'Vere," Moiraine continued, motioning to the dark-haired girl, who looked determined yet unsure of the situation. "Mat Cauthon," Moiraine added with a brief glance at the boy who had a roguish grin, his sharp eyes darting about as if looking for something to joke about, even now.

Moiraine nodded over to Nynaeve who acknowledged Elyndria’s presence with a small shift of her head, “You have already met Nynaeve.”

“Loial will help guide us through the way during our journey.” Moiraine gestured to the large ogier who stood much taller then everyone else. He sent a small smile Elyndria, offering a small wave.

“And this is Rand al'Thor,” Moiraine said, her gaze lingering on the red-haired man at the end of the group.

As Elyndria’s eyes met his, a strange sensation swept over her—goosebumps prickled on her skin, a tingle running down her spine. It felt like looking at someone she knew, but she was certain she had never met him before. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she couldn’t explain why, but the odd connection lingered, making her feel both unsettled and intrigued. She glanced at him again, trying to make sense of the strange feeling stirring within her. He was tall, with broad shoulders and strikingly red hair, but beyond his appearance, there was something else she couldn’t quite put into words.

Elyndria was pulled out of her thoughts as Moiraine stepped forward, her voice carrying the weight of responsibility. "Elyndria is a Green Ajah, and a strong warrior. She will help us on this journey. She has experience in fighting Darkfriends and the Shadowspawn."

The group glanced between each other, the suspicion still lingering in their eyes. Mat’s smirk faltered slightly, his sharp eyes taking Elyndria in. Rand’s posture didn’t shift, but Elyndria could feel the tension in his stance. Perrin’s gaze was steady but not entirely welcoming. Only Egwene gave her a small, curious look, though it was also laced with uncertainty. Nynaeve barely showed any reaction at all. Maybe the small time that they had together had made her less wary and suspicious of Elyndria.

Elyndria met each of their gazes steadily, but inside, she was wrestling with the same fears they must have been feeling. This was no simple mission. This was the fight against the Dark One.

As she opened her mouth to speak, Moiraine gave a sharp glance toward the Waygate. "We must move quickly," she said. "The time is near."

Elyndria nodded, her heart still racing, but now with a sense of urgency. She had been chosen for this—whether she was ready or not. The moment of her life had arrived. With the introductions complete, Elyndria stood in the shadow of Dragonmount, her thoughts heavy with the gravity of what lay ahead. The five strangers before her had the look of people caught between duty and fear, each of them driven by something deeper than they fully understood.

Moiraine’s presence was quiet but commanding, and her eyes held the same weight as her words. Yet, it was clear that each person here had their own reasons for being part of this mission. The air around them felt heavy, as if even the mountain itself was holding its breath in anticipation of what they were about to face.

Moiraine's voice broke the silence once more. "We’re ready to move," she said. Her tone left no room for hesitation.

Elyndria took a deep breath, steeling herself. She was here for a reason, and despite her nerves, she couldn’t let fear dictate her actions. She stepped forward to stand among the group, her green cloak trailing behind her, even if her heart raced in her chest.

“I’m with you,” Elyndria said, her voice steady, though there was an edge to it. “Let’s see this through."

Moiraine nodded once, acknowledging her words, though there was little warmth in her gaze. The time for pleasantries was over. They all had a long, treacherous journey ahead.

With that, Moiraine led the way to the Waygate, the ancient entrance to the Ways, a place between worlds, a place that felt as wrong as it was necessary. The air seemed to hum with a strange energy as they approached the stone archway. She could feel the others close behind her—Loial, Nynaeve, Rand, Mat, Perrin, and Egwene—silent, tense, their emotions unreadable. Lan hovered behind them all, still watching the area around them suspiciously.

As they neared the Waygate, Elyndria could see the faint shimmer of the portal that would take them into the Ways. It wasn’t a place she had ever imagined traveling to, and the idea made her stomach churn. The Dark One had been trapped in his prison for ages, but now… now they were going to face him. To try and vanquish him.

As she walked toward the Waygate, her mind briefly flashed back to her time in the White Tower. She had spent years learning, training, trying to prove herself worthy of the Aes Sedai’s power and trust. But even now, despite all her experience, she wasn’t sure if she was ready. And yet, there was no turning back. The mission was clear, and the fate of the world rested in the hands of those standing with her now.

The last look she cast back at the Tower was bittersweet. It had been a place of both comfort and frustration, a place that had shaped her but also held her back.

If she survived this journey, would she ever return?

Would the Tower even be there, or would the world be changed beyond recognition?

She could only hope the answers would come with time.

Moiraine reached the Waygate first, placing her hands in front of her as she channelled, activating it. The portal flickered to life, and the air around them seemed to twist, distorting reality. Elyndria could feel the tug of it, like the world itself was being reshaped, rearranged.

With a steady breath, she turned to the others. Nynaeve, who had been staring intently at the Waygate, gave Elyndria a sharp look but said nothing. The rest were equally silent, but the tension between them was palpable. They had a long journey ahead of them, and the unknown lay before them all.

“We go together,” Moiraine said, her voice unyielding, as the portal rippled and the journey into the Ways began.

As the last of the group approached the flickering Waygate, Mat hesitated at the entrance, his eyes darting between the portal and the others. Elyndria, standing beside Nynaeve and Perrin, felt the tension in the air. There was a brief, tense silence before Mat broke it with a question.

"Is it too late to change my mind?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Moiraine didn’t even glance in his direction. Her voice was steady, unwavering, as she stepped into the Ways, her figure gradually vanishing into the shifting darkness beyond.

"There’s no turning back," she said, her words heavy with finality. "Whatever happens now is beyond our control. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills."

Without another word, she went into the portal, followed by Lan who stepped in immediately behind her. Loial followed next, his large figure moving calmly into the shadows. Egwene and Rand followed quickly, their eyes focused ahead, as the group ventured deeper into the Ways. The air around them seemed to hum with a strange, unsettling energy, and the light from the gate cast eerie, flickering shadows on the stone walls.

Elyndria stood with the others, feeling the weight of the journey ahead settle over her. She had known the dangers of this mission from the beginning, but the feeling of stepping into this strange, eerie place only intensified her unease. The Ways were no ordinary path; they were a place of twisted reality, filled with darkness and danger.

"Light the torches," Moiraine instructed, her voice cutting through the tension.

Lan dug into a sack, pulling out torches with a practiced hand. He lit the first one, then another, passing them around to the others. The flames sputtered in the dimness, casting long, jagged shadows as the group ventured further into the cold, shadowed expanse.

Rand, walking ahead with Egwene, suddenly stopped, a confused frown crossing his face. He turned back to look at the entrance.

"Wait. Mat!" Rand called out, his voice tinged with worry.

Mat had not yet moved. His eyes were wide, his feet rooted in place as he stared into the void of the Ways, caught in some internal struggle.

Egwene called out next, her voice frantic, "Mat!" She reached for him but didn’t dare step back toward the gate.

"What are you doing? Come on, Mat!" Rand urged, but the hesitation on Mat’s face didn’t fade.

"The gate's closing!" Egwene shouted, fear creeping into her voice. The portal’s light was beginning to fade, the walls of the Ways growing darker by the second.

Rand and Egwene’s voices joined together, urging Mat to follow, but he remained motionless. Nynaeve and Perrin, sensing the urgency, called out as well, but still, there was no response from Mat. His gaze flickered between the group and the darkness before him, torn between the fear of the unknown and the pull of his own doubts.

Elyndria, standing at the edge of the group, felt a sense of foreboding wash over her. Her thoughts raced as she watched Mat’s hesitation. The uncertainty in his eyes mirrored the doubts she had pushed aside since leaving the White Tower. No one had been truly ready for this journey, not in the way the world demanded of them.

Then, with an unsettling finality, the light from the Waygate began to wane. The hum of the Ways shifted, and the air around them grew colder. The last flickers of light from the gate vanished, leaving only darkness in their wake.

"Mat’s not through. Mat!" Rand shouted, desperation rising in his voice.

"Mat!" Egwene echoed, her voice thick with panic.

Their voices rang out into the void, but there was no answer. Only the distant rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning, briefly illuminating the vast emptiness of the Ways.

Moiraine, who had been walking ahead, paused. She turned slowly, her silhouette barely visible in the flickering torchlight. Her gaze locked onto the spot where Mat had stood, but she made no move to turn back.

The silence was heavy, and the weight of their situation settled around them like a blanket. The gate had closed with Mat still on the other side. There was no turning back.

Lan spoke first, his voice steady despite the tension. “We can’t go back."

Moiraine, her tone quiet but filled with resolve, added, "The path is set."

"Stop!" Nynaeve’s voice rang out, sharp and full of desperation. "You need to open it again."

But Nynaeve’s plea hung in the air, unanswered. Moiraine’s gaze was hard, unwavering. She met Nynaeve’s eyes, her expression firm, though a flicker of something passed across her features.

"He made his choice," Moiraine said quietly, but the finality of her words left no room for argument.

Elyndria stood just behind them, her own emotions swirling within her. She had seen the uncertainty in Mat’s eyes, the hesitation that had rooted him to the spot. But now, with the gate closed and Mat on the other side, they had no choice but to move forward.

Rand, his brow furrowed, stepped forward, his voice rising in protest. "Did he? Or did you make it for him?" he asked, his tone sharp with frustration and hurt.

Moiraine’s face remained a mask of determination. "You know the darkness in him. You know it better than anyone," she said. "Do you really think he’s ready for what lies ahead?"

Rand’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenched at his sides. "Of course he is."

Elyndria, feeling the tension build between them, spoke softly but with certainty. "We can’t open the Waygate again," she said, her voice steady but edged with a sense of urgency.

The group turned to her, their eyes filled with questions, but she continued. "Using the One Power to force it open now would only bring us more danger than we’re prepared to handle." She looked to Moiraine, who nodded slightly, indicating she understood, though her expression was tight with the weight of their situation.

"If we try to open the gate again," Elyndria continued, "we risk drawing attention to ourselves. The Ways are already dangerous as it is, but using the Power in here... it would alert the Dark One’s creatures—Darkfriends, Myrddraal, or worse. The dark things that inhabit the Ways would sense us immediately, and we’d be exposed. We can’t risk that."

Nynaeve’s jaw tightened, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes as she absorbed Elyndria’s words. "But we can’t just leave him!" Nynaeve's voice was raw with emotion, frustration leaking through her usual resolve.

Elyndria shook her head, her gaze firm but not unkind. "We have no choice. We can’t let him put all of us at risk. Mat made his decision, whether it was conscious or not. He chose to stay behind. We cannot turn back."

Loial, who had been standing to the side with a pained expression on his face, spoke for the first time, his voice low and grave. "It is a hard thing, to leave someone behind," he said. "But Elyndria is right. The Ways are dangerous. We must not risk our lives for one who has already chosen to stay."

Perrin, who had been standing at the back, his golden eyes flicking nervously between the group, finally spoke, his voice quiet but resolute. "Loial’s right. We can’t risk the lives of the rest of us. It’s not easy, but we have to move forward. Mat... Mat made his choice."

Rand, still visibly conflicted, met Perrin’s gaze, his expression dark. But Perrin’s words had struck home, and after a long moment, Rand finally nodded, though the pain was still there in his eyes.

Moiraine, who had been listening to the exchange with a sharp, calculating gaze, didn’t speak immediately. She simply handed her torch to Nynaeve, her movements fluid but final.

"We’ve already wasted too much time," Moiraine said, her voice commanding. "Stay close. We need to keep moving."

There was no room for further discussion. Nynaeve hesitated, her hand curling tightly around the torch, but at last, she nodded reluctantly, her expression darkened with the weight of their decision. Rand stood by her side, his jaw set, but there was a fire in his eyes that mirrored his defiance.

Elyndria moved forward as well, her steps measured and steady. She had felt the pull of responsibility ever since she had joined this strange, fractured group, but now the gravity of their situation was settling in like a cold weight in her chest. They were on the brink of something monumental, something terrifying, and yet, they couldn’t stop now.

The world they had stepped into was no longer a place of easy decisions, where the consequences were clear and the path ahead certain. The Dark One was stirring, and their mission—dangerous as it was—was the only hope for stopping him. There would be no more chances to turn back. Whatever happened next, they were bound together in this fight, even if it meant leaving one behind.

Elyndria took a deep breath, steeling herself. The Ways were a place of shadow and deceit, and they would have to navigate it carefully. There was no turning back.

Moiraine led the way, her figure already swallowed by the darkness ahead. Lan, as always, followed close behind, his watchful eyes scanning the path ahead for any signs of danger. Loial, with his large frame and quiet wisdom, came next, his eyes scanning their surroundings with a sense of unease. The others filed in behind them—Rand, Egwene, Nynaeve, Perrin, and finally Elyndria, who kept her hand close to the hilt of her sword, ever vigilant.

The air was thick with silence, save for the soft sound of their footsteps and the occasional crack of thunder far off in the distance. They were walking deeper into the heart of darkness, but Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more waiting for them—things far worse than the Dark One’s forces, things that only the Ways could hold.

But she wouldn’t let fear paralyze her now. They couldn’t afford to be afraid. The road ahead was dangerous, but she would face it with them, whatever the cost. The fate of the world rested on their shoulders now, and she would fight to the end.

With every step, the sense of doom hanging over them only grew heavier. The journey through the Ways was oppressive, the darkness wrapping around them like a suffocating cloak. The sound of their footsteps was the only thing that broke the unnerving silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts as they trudged forward. The air was stale, and the sense of something wrong hung heavily over them. Elyndria’s hand never strayed far from the hilt of her sword, her senses alert, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing in on her from all sides.

Loial, his voice carrying a touch of melancholy, broke the silence. “To think... that fruit trees once thrived on every island, that these pockmarked stone paths were once soft and verdant, covered in grass, but now, one wrong step and you plummet into a void which knows no end. Or worse—”

Egwene, who had been walking beside Elyndria, tilted her head, clearly intrigued. “There’s something worse than falling into a bottomless pit?”

Loial’s large eyes widened as he looked around them, his brows furrowing in thought. “Oh, yes, certainly. I can think of at least—”

Rand, who had been walking ahead, cut him off with a weary tone. “It’s all right, Loial. We understand.”

Loial blinked, his ears twitching slightly. “Mm-hmm.” He seemed satisfied by their response but continued to walk slowly, his eyes scanning the surroundings with growing unease.

The oppressive silence continued for a few more moments, until Perrin suddenly halted, his golden eyes narrowing. “Wait. There’s something up there.”

The group stopped, and their gaze followed his line of sight. A large stone, partially hidden in the darkness ahead, seemed to glow faintly in the dim light of their torches.

Loial’s voice was quiet, almost reverent, as he spoke. “It’s one of the Guiding Stones. But...”

He stepped forward and ran his large fingers across the surface of the stone. Elyndria watched him closely, sensing his unease. The Ogier seemed deeply troubled, his usually calm demeanor disrupted by what he saw.

Loial's hand hovered over the stone for a moment longer, his voice tinged with confusion. “How very strange. No Ogier would deface a Guiding. It’s as if someone’s tried to destroy it, keep people from finding their way.”

Moiraine stepped forward, her eyes scanning the stone. “But can you still read it?” Her voice was cold and measured, though a flicker of concern passed through her expression.

Loial hesitated, his fingers tracing the slash marks that marred the stone. “Oh... I’ll ask for your patience.” His tone suggested that the task at hand would take longer than expected.

Rand, who had been quietly observing the exchange, couldn’t help but whisper under his breath, his voice tinged with sarcastic humor. “If he’s asking for patience, then we’re gonna die.”

Elyndria shot him a quick glance, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite the tension. "Let's hope not," she replied softly, though her own heart was heavy with the weight of their situation.

Moiraine, unperturbed by the exchange, nodded firmly. "We’ll rest here while Loial works out the correct path. It’s a day’s journey, at least, to reach our Waygate, so... take some comfort while you can."

The words were a grim reminder of the uncertainty ahead. Rand, still unsettled by the sudden halt, looked around with unease. “How did you see that?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, as though the very stone itself might be watching them.

Perrin shrugged, his golden eyes scanning the darkness. “I don’t know.”
As they stood by the defaced Guiding Stone, the oppressive darkness of the Ways weighed heavily on them. Loial, still studying the markings on the stone, had fallen into an unsettling silence. The eerie stillness around them seemed to thrum with an unseen presence.

Lan turned toward Moiraine, his voice barely a whisper. "Do you know what did that to the Guiding?"

Moiraine’s eyes never left the stone, though her face tightened in concentration. "No," she murmured, her voice low. "But something is following us. Something dark."

Elyndria, standing just a few paces away, couldn’t keep the sense of unease at bay any longer. Her senses, honed from years of training as a Green, were on high alert. She stepped closer to the two of them, her voice steady but urgent as she spoke, her eyes scanning the shadows. "I’ve felt it too. The eyes watching us. It’s not just the darkness in these Ways—it’s something else, something aware of our every movement." Her tone was sharp, her instincts telling her that something dangerous was closing in on them. "We can't risk channeling here. It will attract them. The Ways have a way of amplifying the power, and the Dark One’s creatures will sense it."

Lan’s eyes hardened at her words, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. "Then we must stay sharp."

Moiraine nodded, acknowledging Elyndria’s insight. "Exactly. We cannot afford to attract attention by using the One Power here. The Ways are too dangerous, and even a hint of channeling will draw the dark creatures to us like a beacon. We have to move carefully and quickly."

Elyndria’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the depths of the Ways, the dark and twisted paths seemingly stretching on forever. "I’ll stay close to the others," she said, her voice resolute. "I’ve trained in more than just the One Power. I’ll protect them." Her hand instinctively rested on the hilt of her sword, the weight of it comforting in this dark place.

Moiraine gave her a brief nod. "Good. You know what to do. Don’t let your guard down. Not here." Elyndria glanced around, her instincts screaming at her to stay alert. She couldn’t see anything, but something about the darkness felt... wrong. She took a cautious step closer to Rand, Egwene, and Perrin, all of them standing in a loose formation near the Guiding Stone.

Loial was still working at the stone, but there was an urgency to his movements now, the quiet whisper of his voice carrying a tinge of worry. "This... this is bad. Someone doesn't want us to find the Waygate. Someone powerful."

The air around them seemed to thicken, and Elyndria felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The unease in her chest grew heavier with every passing second. Whatever was following them, it was close. Too close.

Perrin’s voice broke through her thoughts, steady and quiet. “Do we keep moving? Or... do we wait?”

Moiraine, as always, took control. "We wait for Loial to finish. We can’t afford to move blindly through the Ways."

She glanced at Lan, who nodded slightly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his posture tense. Loial, looking more anxious than ever, glanced up from the Guiding Stone, his face pale in the flickering torchlight.

“We must be careful,” Loial warned, his deep voice trembling slightly. “Something watches us here.”

As they stood together, the weight of what was to come pressed heavily on their shoulders. The darkness seemed to close in tighter, the faintest sound of something stirring just out of sight making Elyndria’s pulse quicken. Whatever it was that followed them, it was closing in.

They had no choice but to wait. And hope. As Loial bent over the defaced Guiding Stone, his large, gnarled fingers tracing the markings, the rest of the group settled around him. The quiet murmur of the Ways was unsettling—an empty, oppressive silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

Perrin, Egwene, and Nynaeve, exhausted from the long journey, eventually drifted off to sleep, their forms huddled together beneath their cloaks. The faint sounds of their breathing were the only noise in the stillness, a fragile comfort in the eerie emptiness of the Ways.

Meanwhile, Rand, Moiraine, Lan, and Elyndria remained awake, vigilance etched into their expressions as they kept a careful watch over their surroundings. The oppressive silence pressed in from all sides, but the sense of something lurking just beyond their vision was undeniable.

Elyndria had positioned herself slightly away from the group, but still close enough to respond should danger strike. She was not truly resting, though her body had grown tired from the journey. Her training as a Green had taught her to be alert, her senses always heightened. And tonight, those senses told her that something wasn’t right.

Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the blackness that surrounded them. The darkness felt alive, watching, waiting. Every crack of stone underfoot, every faint shift in the air, drew her attention. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being hunted, though no one else seemed to notice—at least not yet.

Her fingers rested lightly on the hilt of her sword, a silent reassurance, the familiar weight a comfort in this strange and threatening place. Her eyes flicked back to the group, to Loial, whose brow furrowed deeper in concentration as he tried to decipher the defaced stone.

Moiraine and Lan stood by, vigilant, their gazes equally fixed on the shifting shadows of the Ways. Rand, however, stood apart for a moment, staring at the distance, his posture tense, his mind no doubt racing with thoughts he wasn’t voicing.

It was then that Rand walked over, his footsteps soft but purposeful on the stone ground. Elyndria stiffened slightly as he approached, her senses alert as she watched him move. As he sat down beside her, his shoulder brushed against hers, and a sudden warmth shot through her arm, spreading into her chest. She swallowed, startled by the sensation, though she didn’t pull away.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick, yet not uncomfortable. Rand shifted slightly, looking like he regretted coming over and sitting beside her. His brow furrowed as he glanced at Elyndria, the firelight catching the edges of his red hair, making it glow like embers. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice quiet but filled with a curiosity he hadn’t yet fully shown.

“Why did you come along?” he asked. “I know Moiraine’s been exiled from the White Tower. Doesn’t that make things... difficult for you?”

Elyndria turned her head slightly to look at him, surprised by his question. The warmth of his shoulder against hers still lingered, and she found herself feeling strangely off balance, as though the world had tilted just slightly on its axis.

“It’s true,” she began, her voice steady, “Moiraine has been exiled. But even exiled, she is still my sister. My sister of Aes Sedai.” She let the words settle between them, not so much as an explanation but as a truth she had lived with for years. “I wouldn’t let her take this journey alone.”

Rand looked at her closely, sensing there was more to her words. “But Moiraine didn’t force you to come?”

Elyndria’s lips curled into a faint, sad smile. “Not exactly,” she said, her gaze drifting for a moment as she thought of Saerel, her mentor, the woman who had guided her through so many challenges. “I was requested by Siuan, the Amyrlin seat. It wasn’t a choice I could make for myself.” Her voice softened as she began to speak about Saerel. “My mentor, Saerel is also friends with Moiraine as well. I couldn’t live with myself if I refused to come along and something happened. Saerel has been my guide in nearly everything since I became a novice.”

Rand nodded, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of it all. “I didn’t know it was like that.”

Elyndria gave a small shrug, her fingers unconsciously tracing the hilt of her sword as she spoke. “The White Tower... it’s not always as it seems. Not everyone has a choice in what they do, not when the world is at stake.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and Rand’s eyes softened. “How long have you been at the White Tower, then?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as though this part of the conversation had shifted to something more personal, more real.

Elyndria exhaled slowly, looking out into the void ahead of them, the silence pressing in. “Almost my whole life,” she answered, her voice laced with the weight of the years. “I was left on the steps of the Tower when I was only three. Raised by the servants at first, and then when I was twelve and the Aes Sedai discovered my power, they took me in.” She gave a slight, almost bitter smile. “I never really had a childhood after that. Not the way most people do. I was trained from the moment I could use the One Power.”

Rand’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of her words sinking in. “That’s... that’s a lot to go through.”

Elyndria gave a sharp nod. “It is,” she agreed, her tone softer now. “But I’ve learned to make it my strength. The Tower may have raised me, but it also made me who I am.” She shifted slightly, her expression thoughtful. “In some ways, I don’t know who I would be without it. But in other ways... I’m not sure I ever had a chance to choose what I wanted. The White Tower doesn’t always leave room for that.”

Rand was quiet for a long moment, the weight of her words settling over them both. For once, the dark silence of the Ways didn’t feel so oppressive. Elyndria tilted her head slightly, studying Rand with a curious gaze. After a moment, she spoke, her voice soft but genuine.

“And what about you, Rand?” she asked. "What was your life like, before all of this?"

Rand’s expression softened, as though her question had caught him off guard. He looked into the distance for a moment, his eyes distant as though lost in thought.

“I lived in the Two Rivers,” Rand began, his tone quieter now. “Tam, my father, raised me there, on the slopes of the Mountains of Mist. My mother passed when i was young. We raised sheep. It was simple, really. A quiet life... before everything changed. I miss it, sometimes. The peace, the routine. It was all I ever knew.”

He looked over at Elyndria, offering her a half-hearted smile as he continued to softly speak about his life in the Two Rivers. Elyndria watched him closely as he spoke, the weight of his words settling in the air between them. She could see the sadness in his eyes, the remnants of a life that seemed so far away now. After a beat of silence, she spoke again, her tone gentle but curious.

“It sounds like it was a good life,” she said softly, as if carefully choosing her words. “A life you could trust in. I imagine that kind of peace is hard to leave behind.”

Rand’s lips pressed together, and for a moment, his gaze grew distant again. His eyes seemed to focus on something far beyond the darkness surrounding them.

“It was,” he replied, his voice almost a whisper. “There were hard times, of course. But it was mine. And I had my father. I... I didn’t realize how much I needed that until it was all gone. Now, everything feels so... uncertain.”

He paused for a long moment, his jaw tight, as though holding something back. Then, with a quiet sigh, he continued, “I had a chance to live a normal life, like most people. But I never really got to have it. I guess none of us will, now. Not with what’s coming.”

Elyndria felt a pang of empathy for him. She understood more than she let on. The weight of responsibility, the sense of duty, the loss of something simpler—it was something she had felt as well.

“Sometimes, it’s the things we can’t hold on to that shape us the most,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on him. “You can’t change what’s been taken from you, Rand, but you can still decide who you are from here on out.”

Rand met her gaze then, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. His expression softened, and for a moment, the walls around him seemed to drop just slightly.

“Maybe,” he murmured. “Maybe that’s true.”

The silence stretched between them again, but this time, it felt less heavy. The quiet hum of the Ways was still there, but it wasn’t as oppressive. Elyndria felt a sense of understanding, a connection that hadn’t been there before. Maybe they were all just trying to find their way through the dark.
As Rand moved to lay down with the others, the events of the conversation seeming to run through his mind, Elyndria remained vigilant. She kept herself apart from the group, her eyes scanning the darkness, though her body was physically exhausted from the journey. The silence of the Ways pressed on her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It wasn’t just the isolation or the eerie stillness; it was the unsettling sensation that something, or someone, was watching them.

Just as she shifted her position, trying to ease the strain in her muscles, the sudden snarl of a creature pierced the air, and Elyndria’s body immediately went into full alert. A Trolloc hurtled down from the shadows, landing with a heavy thud that sent a shockwave through the stone beneath them. The Trolloc turned toward the group, its bloodshot eyes locked on Egwene. Before she could even draw her sword, Rand was already shouting.

"Egwene!" Rand's voice cracked through the air, desperate, protective.

Elyndria’s hand instinctively moved to her sword hilt, ready to step in if necessary, but Rand was already there, his arm shooting out to protect Egwene, as if he could shield her from the oncoming monstrosity. Elyndria’s breath caught as she felt the sudden, powerful surge of the One Power, a crackling energy that filled the air. There was a blast of power, and the Trolloc was flung from the path, falling into the abyss below with a terrifying scream.

"Get back!" Lan barked, eyes scanning the darkness as the group quickly formed a tighter circle.

Loial’s voice, thick with disbelief, echoed in the sudden quiet. "A Trolloc in the Ways. That should be impossible."

Elyndria stayed close to the group, her gaze flicking over her shoulder toward the abyss where the Trolloc had fallen. The darkness still felt alive, pressing in around them. Her hand still rested on the hilt of her sword, every muscle in her body ready to spring into action if anything else came for them.

"It explains how they reached the Two Rivers undetected," Lan added, voice tight.

Moiraine nodded, her expression dark and calculating. "And what happened to the Guiding?"

The chill in the air seemed to deepen, and Perrin shivered. "Did it just get a lot colder in here?"

Elyndria’s eyes narrowed, sensing the coldness, but it wasn’t the temperature of the air that unsettled her—it was something deeper. The sensation of being watched, the presence of danger growing closer. The Trolloc wasn’t the only thing lurking in the darkness.

"Oh, dear," Loial murmured, stepping back. “The Machin Shin.” 

"I didn’t mean to channel," Egwene whispered, her voice trembling.

Nynaeve’s voice was sharp. "What is Machin Shin?"

Elyndria looked at the Ogier, her mind racing. Loial’s face grew even more grim.

"It translates from the Old Tongue to mean the Black Wind," Loial explained, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

"What exactly is the Black Wind?" Nynaeve asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

Moiraine stepped forward, her expression resolute. "Machin Shin will speak to you. Do not listen."

The air felt thicker now, oppressive and heavy. Elyndria could feel the tug of the One Power on the edges of her awareness, but she didn’t reach for it. Her training as a Green had taught her not to just rely on the One Power for protection. It was too dangerous in the Ways, a beacon for creatures like Machin Shin. Instead, her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword as she stayed close to the others.

Lan turned to face the group, his expression grim. "We'll never make it to our Waygate. How far are we from the Gate to Fal Dara?"

Loial’s voice was unsteady as he looked down the path. "It's closer, but I don’t think we have time..."

"Take us there," Moiraine cut him off. "Go! Quickly!"

Elyndria moved without hesitation, staying near the group but always keeping her eyes on the shifting shadows. Her senses screamed at her, telling her something was coming. She felt the chill, the same cold that had crept into her bones when she first realized they were being followed. The Black Wind was near.

They began to move swiftly down the path, but Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling that the darkness was closing in on them. Every crack of stone beneath their feet seemed louder than the last. Every flicker of movement in the shadows sent her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced back, seeing the swirling mass of Machin Shin’s presence just beyond their sight, its screeching whisper reaching her ears. The air seemed to vibrate with the Wind’s malevolent presence.

"This way!" Moiraine shouted, urgency in her voice as she led them forward.

"Go! Come on!" Lan urged, his voice tight with command.

The narrow pathway they reached seemed almost fragile beneath their feet, a bridge of stone that stretched over the abyss. The sound of the Black Wind's howls intensified as they crossed, each step making the path feel even more fragile beneath them. Elyndria’s pulse quickened, her eyes flicking to the darkness at the edges of the narrow path.

Loial’s voice echoed over the howling wind. "The Waygate is up ahead."

Elyndria could feel the pressure building, the weight of the Wind pressing in on them. The screeches of Machin Shin grew louder, closer. They had no time. She pushed forward, not daring to look back, but her senses screamed that the Black Wind was coming for them.

With one final push, they reached the Waygate, the dark archway looming ahead. But before they could even gather their breath, the howls of Machin Shin erupted from the shadows, louder and more terrifying than before.

"We're not out of this yet," Elyndria muttered under her breath, her hand tightening around her sword as they made their way toward the gate, the darkness pressing in around them. As the group moved toward the Waygate, Elyndria's heart hammered in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The sound of Machin Shin grew louder, the howls and whispers more intense, more urgent. She could feel the air thickening around them, a pressure building in the atmosphere that was unlike anything she had experienced before.

And then, from the darkness, the whispers began.

You cannot protect them. The voice was a sibilant hiss, a sound that seemed to crawl inside her mind, curling around her thoughts. You can't even protect yourself. You've never been able to protect those you loved.

Elyndria froze, her feet suddenly feeling heavier, like the stone beneath her had turned to lead. She stumbled, a sharp pain shooting through her skull, as the whispers continued, cutting through the silence of the Ways.

You watched them die. You couldn't save them. The children... the screams...

Her breath caught in her throat. The words pierced through her, like shards of glass tearing at her mind. The children? Elyndria’s knees buckled slightly, and she gripped the hilt of her sword to steady herself. Her head pounded, as though the very core of her being was under assault. The whisper, the presence in the darkness, it was like a cold hand gripping her heart.

What children? Who were these voices talking about? Her breath hitched, and her thoughts swirled, a chaotic blur of images and memories that she couldn't quite grasp. But the whispers didn’t stop. They gnawed at her mind, at her sense of self.

You remember their faces, don’t you? Their screams as they fell. As you watched them die.

Elyndria staggered forward, her hand tightening around the sword’s hilt as if it could anchor her to reality. Her head throbbed, her vision blurring for a moment. Her body trembled, the words piercing deep into her, making her question what she knew to be true. No, this isn't real... she told herself, but the whisper kept echoing, growing louder.

You couldn't protect them.

She gasped, shaking her head, trying to force the voice away, but it was everywhere, filling her mind, clawing at her sanity. The images flashed again—of children. Screams. Faces she couldn't place. But they were there, lingering just at the edge of her memory.

Rand’s voice cut through the oppressive whispering. "Elyndria!" he shouted, his tone filled with concern, as if he had noticed her stumble.

She blinked, coming back to herself for a moment, the presence of the others grounding her in the here and now. But the whispers did not cease.

They died because of you. You failed them.

Her breath hitched again. The words twisted in her chest, a cold dread washing over her. She hadn’t realized how deeply the echoes of past failures, the burdens she carried, still haunted her.

"Stay close," Moiraine’s voice came, sharp and commanding, but Elyndria didn’t feel the presence of the Aes Sedai. Not the way she usually did. The weight of the darkness pressing in around them was suffocating, pulling at her, making it hard to focus.

The cold bite of the wind—the whispers—the feeling of something watching her—took hold of her, making it hard to separate truth from the terrifying fantasy Machin Shin wove in her mind.

The children... The voice slithered again. You could not protect them...

Elyndria staggered forward, tears prickling at the edges of her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, shaking her head, trying to clear it. I didn’t fail them, she told herself, but the voice didn’t stop, didn’t give her a moment’s peace. It pressed harder, deeper, more insistent.

You couldn’t protect them.

She felt her pulse in her throat, her chest tight with fear, but she forced herself to take another step forward, clinging to her sword, to her sense of purpose. She couldn’t afford to break down. Not now. Not when they were so close.

She heard Rand’s voice again, more insistent. "Elyndria, are you all right?"

She blinked, focusing on him. She could see his concern, but she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t say the words. Who were these children?

The darkness around them swirled, and she could feel the weight of their eyes on her. The pressure in her chest mounted. She clenched her jaw and forced her feet to keep moving, even as the voice continued to gnaw at her, even as she felt like she was slipping.

"We have to get through this," she whispered to herself, barely aware of the words that left her mouth as Nynaeve’s scream pierced the air, and with it, a massive burst of power erupted from her.

Light flared around them all, pushing back the oppressive presence of Machin Shin. The darkness recoiled in the wake of Nynaeve’s fury, but she struggled to maintain control, the strain evident on her face as she wrestled with the raw energy. Her hands trembled as the power flowed through her, but she held on, determination flashing in her eyes.

“Please! Hurry!” Egwene cried out, her voice full of urgency.

Moiraine was already focused, her mind sharp as she worked to open the Waygate, her hands moving in practiced motions. The air vibrated around them, and with a final push, Moiraine spoke, her voice steady but intense. “Quickly, now! It’s open!”

Egwene wasted no time, pulling Nynaeve toward the Waygate, her eyes wide with relief. Lan was right behind them, urging them forward. Elyndria, shaken but determined, followed close behind. Her breath was shallow, her thoughts clouded with the whispers that still clung to her mind, but the warmth of the light and the urgency of the moment gave her the strength to press on.

The last of them stepped through the opening, and with a faint hum, the Waygate slammed shut behind them, cutting off the darkness they had barely escaped. The harsh desert air hit them all at once, and the group staggered, catching their breath, the tension from the Ways still lingering in the air.

“Well done. All of you,” Moiraine said, her voice calm but heavy with the weight of what they had just endured.

Nynaeve, breathing heavily, looked around, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Where are we?”

Loial, his voice a bit breathless but filled with knowledge, answered. “The fortress city of Fal Dara. Last bastion against the Blight.”

The group turned to see a massive walled city in the distance, its towering gates seeming almost a beacon of safety after their harrowing journey.

Moiraine gestured toward the city, her tone unwavering. “The Eye of the World is a day’s walk beyond the city. But rest is close at hand. We have friends in these Borderlands.”

Elyndria let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her body sagging with exhaustion, but she forced herself to straighten. The weight of the journey, the mental strain of Machin Shin’s whispers, had taken its toll, but she pushed it aside. She could rest soon.

Moiraine paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the group—each of them weathered and worn from the darkness of the Ways, but still standing. “Whatever it was you heard in the wind...” Moiraine’s voice was low, yet commanding. “Put it out of your minds.”

The words didn’t settle in Elyndria’s chest. How could she? How could she simply forget what Machin Shin had whispered? She felt the weight of it pressing down on her; what were those faces she seen, what children screams had she been hearing. Her head pounded as those thoughts flashed through her mind. Elyndria’s gaze lingered on the faint outline of Fal Dara in the distance. They had made it through the Ways, had survived the Black Wind. Now they had to focus on what lay ahead. Fal Dara would offer them respite, yes. But Elyndria knew better than to think they were safe. Not yet.

As the group moved forward, Elyndria found herself walking beside Rand. The silence between them was thick, but she could sense his own unease, the way his eyes darted around, scanning the horizon. They had both survived, but there was a long road ahead. She knew it, and he did too.

Chapter 11: Into the Blight: Eye of the Storm

They walked in the heat of the desert, the sun hanging heavily above them. Fal Dara waited in the distance, but Elyndria’s mind wasn’t there. It lingered on the whispers, the shadows, and the things they had yet to face. The group approached the massive stone gates of Fal Dara, the fortress city standing tall against the Blight. The air was thick with the weight of the land, the stone walls casting long shadows in the fading light of the setting sun. Elyndria walked alongside Loial, her steps firm despite the exhaustion from their harrowing journey through the Ways. The lingering whispers of Machin Shin still clung to her thoughts, a cold presence in her mind that refused to fade, like an unwanted shadow.

Loial's voice rumbled beside her, pulling her from her thoughts. "How long has it been since you last walked through this gate?" he asked Lan, his gaze on the towering gates ahead.

Lan’s face remained unreadable, his eyes fixed on the entrance, though his posture stiffened, a faint shadow of something unspoken passing over him. Elyndria observed him quietly, sensing the depth of emotion hidden behind his stoic demeanor. Whatever memories Fal Dara held for him, they were not easily shared.

As the gates opened, the group was met by a line of soldiers, their movements swift and precise. They bowed in unison, their hands over their hearts, greeting Lan with deep respect.

"Dai Shan," A man greeted Lan, stepping in front of the soldiers. Possibly the commander of the soldiers from the way he held himself, tall and proud. His tone was formal, yet welcoming.

Lan returned the salute with a nod, his expression neutral. "Lord Yakota," he replied softly, acknowledging the respect.

Yakota's face softened as he spoke again. "On behalf of Lord Agelmar, I welcome you back to Fal Dara."

From the side, a loud voice broke through the tension. "Welcome home... you bloody great bastard." The tall figure stepped forward with a grin, his arms wide as he pulled Lan into a rough hug.

Elyndria couldn’t help but smile slightly, the warmth between the two men a stark contrast to the chill that had gripped her since their journey began. The brief embrace spoke volumes about their camaraderie, something that Elyndria quietly envied. It made Elyndria miss her green sisters.

The soldiers then led the group deeper into the heart of the palace. The stone corridors stretched before them, cool and echoing with the weight of history. Elyndria’s gaze flitted from the intricate tapestries that adorned the walls to the high, vaulted ceilings above them. She couldn’t help but feel the age of this place, a fortress built to stand against the forces of darkness for centuries.

The group was led through the imposing stone halls of Fal Dara, their footsteps echoing off the cold walls. Elyndria walked quietly at the rear of the group, her senses still attuned to the surroundings, as though the shadows of the Blight itself had followed them inside the fortress. The weight of the journey, the whispering darkness from the Ways, seemed to press on her chest, but she pushed it aside. She didn’t know what to expect from the men and women who called this place home, but she knew they would be different from those she had met before.

As they approached the throne room, Elyndria's gaze flitted briefly over the others, catching sight of a tall woman standing near the entrance. She was poised and regal, her eyes flicking toward them with a look of recognition that Elyndria couldn’t place. Elyndria didn’t know who she was, but she felt the woman’s gaze linger on her for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Elyndria felt a momentary unease, unsure if the woman’s scrutiny was out of curiosity or something more.

Then, a man appeared, stepping out onto the balcony that overlooked the room. His presence was commanding, his tall figure illuminated by the light pouring in from the windows behind him. His voice boomed across the room, and Elyndria's mind scrambled to place him. This must be Lord Agelmar; the ruler of the fortress, guardian of Tarwin’s Gap. She had heard his name in passing during her lessons, his importance evident in every mention.

"Your presence warms me, Dai Shan. And you, Moiraine Sedai. To what do we owe this pleasure?" His voice carried both warmth and formality, but there was something else in it—something she couldn’t quite place. Was it the weight of his station, or the gravity of the news Moiraine had brought? Elyndria wasn’t sure.

Moiraine’s voice cut through the tension with calm authority. "I am here with a warning."

Lord Agelmar’s expression shifted slightly, the glint of a knowing smile crossing his face. "Let me guess. This anxious sister of mine wrote to the White Tower with overblown stories of the encroaching Blight and Trolloc raids. While I appreciate your concern, Fal Dara always has and always will be able to protect its own."

Elyndria stood still, observing intently, trying to gauge the dynamics in the room. She had learned about the Blight in her studies; how it poisoned the land and twisted creatures, making them into horrific enemies of the light. She also knew that Fal Dara was a fortress built for exactly such threats. But what was Moiraine not saying?

Moiraine’s response was sharp, cutting through the tension. "My Lord, I can assure you that neither I nor any Aes Sedai doubts your ability to keep the Blight at bay."

Lord Agelmar gave a deep, hearty chuckle, his gaze fixed on the group with some amusement. "I should hope not. We have guarded Tarwin's Gap for a thousand years, and fought off armies of Trollocs that would make even an Aes Sedai blanch. I appreciate you making the trek to the Borderlands, but I fear you may have done so in vain."

Elyndria, sensing the weight of the moment, exchanged a glance with Lan, who stood stoic and quiet as ever. She wasn’t sure what to think of Lord Agelmar’s response. The Blight was no laughing matter. Was he underestimating the gravity of the situation? Or was he simply trying to downplay the urgency?

Moiraine’s response was sharp, cutting through the tension. "Lord Agelmar, if you’ll allow me to finish. I have no intention of advising you. A Lord should protect his land as he sees fit. I am simply here with a warning. The Dark One has begun to use the Ways to move his armies. Now, while it behooves you to guard the Gap, as your family has always done, it might be prudent to have a group of men wall up the Fal Daran Waygate as well."

The words hung heavy in the air, and Elyndria couldn’t hide her unease. The Ways were dangerous, corrupted by the Dark One’s influence. To hear that the Dark One was using them to move his forces felt like a dagger of dread being driven deeper into her heart. She didn’t know exactly how grave the threat was, but she understood the significance of Moiraine’s warning.

Agelmar, his expression unreadable for a moment, finally spoke with a grudging acknowledgment. "Do as she says," he ordered Lord Yakota, who bowed in response.

Elyndria couldn’t help but notice the shift in the room, as though something had changed.

Lord Agelmar’s voice softened, his gaze moving toward Moiraine and then to the rest of the group. "I offended you. You and your companions are welcome here as long as you wish. The Borderlands have a long history of mutual support with the White Tower, and that will not change while the Black Hawk still flies. The servants will show you to your rooms for you to rest."

Moiraine, ever composed, gave a small nod in acknowledgment. "Thank you, my Lord."

Several servants stepped forward, silently and respectfully, as the group began to break apart. Elyndria glanced back at the others, who were moving toward different parts of the palace, before following the servant who gestured for her to follow. The servant led her through the quiet halls, their footsteps soft against the stone floors. The silence felt thick and suffocating, a stark contrast to the bustle of the throne room and the weight of Lord Agelmar's presence. As they reached a door, the servant paused and gestured for Elyndria to enter.

"This is where you will be staying, Aes Sedai," the servant said quietly, bowing before stepping back.

“Thank you,” Elyndria murmured tiredly, nodding her head slightly in acknowledgment. She waited, watching the servant walk away, before entering the room. The door clicked shut behind Elyndria with a soft finality, and the silence of the room seemed to press in on her.

She stood for a moment in the middle of the space, her exhaustion settling heavily on her shoulders. The bed was inviting, its soft, plush mattress a welcome contrast to the rigid discomfort of travel. Without a second thought, Elyndria collapsed onto it, her body surrendering to the overwhelming fatigue that had been building since the moment they stepped into the Ways.

She lay there, eyes closed, feeling the coolness of the sheets beneath her, the faint breeze that came from the narrow window. But despite the comfort, her mind would not let her rest. It wandered back to the faces she had seen in the Ways—those unrecognizable, fleeting glimpses of people who had looked at her with such sadness in their eyes. They had been faces she couldn’t name, and yet, they felt hauntingly familiar. The sadness they carried had seeped into her own heart, weighing her down in a way she couldn’t explain.

The memory—or was it a vision?—lingered in her mind, stubbornly refusing to be dismissed. Faces, like reflections caught in a dark pool, flashed before her. Some were elderly, others younger, but all of them wore expressions that seemed to carry an unbearable sorrow. She had seen their eyes, their faces so clearly, yet they were strangers to her. It made her skin prickle with unease.

Could they have been people from her past, faces she had forgotten from before the White Tower had become her home? Before she was abandoned on its steps, left with nothing but the cold embrace of stone and the harsh discipline of Aes Sedai life? But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it didn’t feel like that. The faces were wrong. The memory—or whatever it was—felt different. It wasn’t something from her childhood, from a time she could barely remember. It was something else, something deeper.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as she turned over on the bed, pressing her face into the pillow. Her mind spiraled further into confusion. Who were they? Why did she feel such a deep, bone-chilling sadness at the mere sight of them? Why did they haunt her like this, make her feel like she was on the edge of some truth she couldn’t reach?

She closed her eyes again, trying to push the images away, but they clung to her thoughts. Elyndria felt a tightness in her chest, as though something was pressing against her heart, squeezing until it was difficult to breathe. The confusion, the sadness, and the strangeness of it all were becoming too much to bear.

In that moment, a yearning for the White Tower swept over her, a longing for its strict routines, its controlled environments. The Tower, as stifling as it had often felt, had at least been familiar. She had known where she stood there, had known her place, her purpose. Here, in the Borderlands, surrounded by strange faces and unknown dangers, she felt adrift. She was no longer the young girl who had been left on the steps of the Tower, no longer the child who had yearned for the warmth of a mother’s embrace. But the question lingered in her mind—was she still searching for something she didn’t remember?

Her fingers curled into the blankets, but there was no comfort to be found in them. She felt small, lost, a stranger in a strange land.

The whispering faces from the Ways still lingered, just out of reach, and Elyndria knew, deep down, that this was a puzzle that would haunt her until she found the answers. But for now, all she could do was close her eyes, try to silence the storm of her thoughts, and fall into a restless sleep, hoping that when she woke, the confusion might have cleared, or that some piece of the mystery might make sense.

But it didn’t. Not yet.

Elyndria lay on the bed, the heavy silence of the room pressing down on her. The shadows in the corners seemed to stretch longer as the light outside waned, casting the space in a dim, uneasy glow. She wanted to rest, to simply let the exhaustion take over, but the faces continued to haunt her mind, flickering in and out of her thoughts like flashes of lightning on a dark night.

Who were they? Why did they look at her with such sadness in their eyes? The emotions that stirred within her felt raw, foreign, like a wound she hadn’t realized was there until it was too late to ignore. She could feel the weight of their loss pressing down on her chest, a grief that wasn’t hers, but one that felt achingly familiar.

Elyndria squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the images away. But they wouldn’t leave. They kept coming, their faces unrecognizable yet strangely familiar. A child—was it her?—with wide, terrified eyes, reaching for someone she couldn’t see. A mother, perhaps, or a sibling, whose face remained just out of reach. The scream of a voice, a name she couldn’t hear. The memory twisted and turned, like a dream she could never fully remember, and no matter how hard she tried to grasp at it, it slipped through her fingers.

The pressure in her chest grew heavier, like she was suffocating under the weight of something she couldn’t understand. She thought of the White Tower, the rigid structure, the comfort it provided despite the constraints. The familiar faces of the Aes Sedai, their words, their teachings—everything that had been so stifling at times now seemed like a distant, comforting echo. She missed the certainty, the order. The Tower was her home, and yet... it wasn’t. Not anymore. Not with these visions tormenting her.

She slowly turned her head to look at the small window. The night had fully settled outside, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting pale light over the barren land beyond the walls of Fal Dara.

Elyndria sat up slowly, her head still spinning with unanswered questions. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady herself. It wasn’t just the faces that troubled her—it was the feeling that they were somehow connected to her. That they were hers to remember, but she couldn’t.

She had been abandoned on the steps of the White Tower as a child, alone and cold. She had no memory of her life before that moment, no recollection of family or home. The Tower had become her sanctuary, its walls her only refuge from the world outside. But these faces—these strangers who felt like they were tied to her very soul—threatened to unravel everything she thought she knew about herself.

The soft sound of footsteps outside her door jolted her from her thoughts. Elyndria stood quickly, her sword still resting at her side, and walked to the door. A brief knock echoed through the room, followed by the voice of the servant.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, Aes Sedai?"

Elyndria paused, considering. She didn’t know if she was ready to face anyone, but she couldn’t stay locked in this room with her thoughts for much longer.

"Yes," she replied, her voice a little hoarse. "I’m fine."

She wasn’t sure if she believed it, but it was all she could offer. The servant’s footsteps retreated, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control over herself.

The visions, the faces—they weren’t going to go away. They were a part of her, whether she wanted to accept it or not. And whatever was happening, whatever it was she was meant to remember, she had to face it.

With a deep breath, Elyndria turned away from the door and sank back onto the bed. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but she couldn’t ignore these strange feelings any longer. Not if they were leading her to something—something she needed to understand.

And whatever it was, it was calling her, whether she was ready or not.
Elyndria tossed and turned in her bed, unable to quiet her mind. The exhaustion weighed heavy on her, but sleep remained elusive, like a shadow she couldn’t quite grasp. The silence of the room felt stifling, and the darkness outside called to her.

With a sigh, she slipped out of bed, the cool night air offering some relief as she made her way through the stone halls of the fortress. The weight of the journey, the visions from the Ways, and the growing tension within her made the stillness of the night seem too much to bear. She needed to move, to clear her head, and the only thing she could think of was to step outside.

The moonlight bathed the courtyard in an eerie glow, and Elyndria walked without a clear destination, simply needing to escape the confining walls. The soft crunch of her boots on the ground was the only sound accompanying her. It wasn’t long before she saw him.

Rand was standing alone, his bow drawn, releasing arrow after arrow at a wooden target. His movements were sharp and focused, but there was something about him; an edge of restlessness, anger eve that made her pause. She stood there for a moment, watching him in silence.

Then, slowly, she approached, her footsteps light on the ground. “Rand,” she called gently.

He didn’t immediately turn to face her, though she could see the muscles in his back tense. After a few long seconds, he lowered his bow but kept it in hand. His gaze remained distant, staring at the target.

“What is it, Elyndria?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

She could sense the frustration within him, but she didn’t push him to speak. Instead, she asked, “What’s bothering you?”

He hesitated, lowering his bow completely, his eyes still fixed on the night. Elyndria stood there for a while, waiting, giving him space to speak if he wanted to. She knew the burden he carried wasn’t one easily shared, but it was clear that whatever weighed on him was far more than just the battles ahead.

Finally, Rand sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know if it’s worth talking about,” he murmured.

Elyndria gave him a soft, understanding look, crossing her arms lightly over her chest. “Everything’s worth talking about, Rand. But only if you want to.”

Another long silence followed before Rand finally spoke, his words slow and heavy. “I never thought I’d leave the Two Rivers. I thought I would stay there, get married, buy land, and have a dozen children. I never wanted this. All of this. It’s so much different than what I imagined for myself. I can’t keep up with it.”

Elyndria studied him for a moment, sensing the depth of his frustration. She couldn’t help but crack a smile at his mention of a dozen children. “A dozen children, huh? I feel sorry for the woman who has to deal with that.”

Rand chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow, lacking its usual warmth. He glanced at her, then turned his gaze back to the stars. “I thought it would be Egwene. I thought she and I would have that life together, build something there. But... when she told me about her offer to become Nynaeve’s apprentice, it broke something in me. I don’t know what we are anymore.”

Elyndria glanced at him now, studying the expression on his face—vulnerable, conflicted, and hurt. Her heart tugged at the pain she could sense, the disillusionment that seemed to pour from him in waves.

“I didn’t expect her to choose a life without marriage over me,” Rand continued, his voice quiet but laced with a hint of bitterness. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know what we are.”

Elyndria bit her lip, considering her response. The situation was complicated, more than anything she had ever had to deal with, but she could relate to feeling lost, to the confusion that came with trying to understand relationships that weren’t clear-cut.

“I don’t know what it is between you and her,” Elyndria said, her voice soft. “But maybe... maybe it’s just not as simple as you think. Relationships, especially ones like that, can be a mess of emotions, timing, and what you think you want versus what you need. You two have your own paths to follow.” Without saying anything more, she laid herself down on the ground, stretching out beneath the stars, her arms resting behind her head. The cool night air was refreshing, and the sight of the stars above was oddly comforting, their steady gleam offering some peace in the quiet of the night.

Rand hesitated, then flopped down beside her with a quiet groan, stretching his legs out beside her. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just stared at the sky above them, the silence wrapping around them like a blanket. Eventually, Rand spoke again, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. “I just want things to be simple again. Like they were.”

Elyndria turned her head slightly to face him, her voice soft but understanding. “I think we all do. But maybe that’s just not the way it works anymore. Maybe it’s up to us to find our own way through it.”

For a long time, neither of them said anything more. They just lay there, side by side, staring at the stars, their thoughts swirling in the quiet, but for once, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

The night stretched on, and Rand and Elyndria remained beneath the stars, talking softly about their childhoods. They shared stories, each one a window into the vastly different worlds they'd grown up in.

Rand spoke first, his voice warm as he remembered his life back in the Two Rivers. “I spent most of my time outside, playing with my friends. There was always something to do, whether it was helping my father with chores or running around the farm, pretending to be a hero.” He chuckled at the memory. “I used to think one day I’d own a piece of land, grow crops, maybe get a herd of sheep, and settle down. I thought life would be simple like that. I guess I was wrong.”

Elyndria smiled faintly, her eyes tracing the constellations overhead. “I never got that. I was always inside, stuck in the White Tower. I spent most of my time with books and scrolls, reading every tome I could get my hands on. I practiced my powers, studied the histories, the old prophecies... I even did chores, though I’m not sure what the point was of learning how to scrub floors when you can channel. But I wasn’t allowed to do much else. It was so... different from your life.”

Rand turned his head to look at her, curiosity in his eyes. “That sounds lonely.”

Elyndria hesitated, her gaze moving from the stars to the distant horizon. “It was... and it wasn’t. There were always people around, but none of them were ever close.” She took a slow breath, her voice growing softer. “I didn’t really learn to live outside of the Tower, and now...” She trailed off, the weight of her own words sinking in. Now she was on a deadly mission with no idea of if she will ever return to the tower again.

“It’s beautiful, though. Out here, isn’t it?” Rand murmured quietly. Elyndria hummed in agreement.

The silence that followed was comforting. They just laid there, listening to the wind rustle through the trees, the sounds of the night carrying on in the distance.

After a few minutes had passed, Rand sighed and sat up, stretching his legs. “I should probably head back to my room,” he muttered, glancing at Elyndria. “I’m feeling more tired than I thought.”

Elyndria nodded, though she wasn’t quite ready for sleep. “I’ll stay a bit longer.”

Rand gave her a small nod, standing up and brushing the grass off his trousers. “Goodnight, Elyndria,” he said quietly, before walking off toward the fortress.

Elyndria stayed behind for a while longer, her thoughts swirling in the silence. She couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had followed her from the Ways. She felt unsettled, as if something was just out of reach, a memory or vision that refused to fully materialize.

Eventually, she stood and made her way back inside, feeling the coolness of the stone floors against her bare feet as she moved through the darkened hallways. She wasn’t ready for bed. She wasn’t ready to close her eyes and let her mind wander back to the strange, haunting images she had seen.

After an hour of wandering, Elyndria made her way to Moiraine’s room. She knocked softly on the door before entering, finding Moiraine sitting by the fire, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. The Aes Sedai looked up as Elyndria entered, a knowing expression on her face.

“You seem unsettled since traveling through the Ways,” Moiraine remarked, her voice soft but perceptive.

Elyndria hesitated, unsure how to explain what she was feeling. “I don’t really understand it myself,” she admitted, stepping further into the room and sitting down on the chair opposite Moiraine. “I saw things, flashes of images, almost like memories... but not exactly like memories. It was... unusual. Like they didn’t belong to me, but at the same time, I felt like I should know them.”

Moiraine’s gaze softened, her lips curving into a slight frown. She set down her cup of tea, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “You’re not the first to experience something like that in the Ways. It is a place of great power, ancient and twisted. The journey through them can affect people in unexpected ways. The images you saw... they may be connected to something deeper within you. Perhaps something you don’t fully understand yet.”

Elyndria frowned, running a hand through her hair. “I feel like something’s missing, like a piece of a puzzle that’s just out of reach. It’s frustrating. I don’t know if it’s just... the Ways, or if there’s something more. But it doesn’t feel right.”

Moiraine studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Trust your instincts, Elyndria. Sometimes the answers come when we least expect them. You’re not alone in this. Whatever these visions are, they will reveal themselves when the time is right.”

Elyndria felt a small weight lift from her chest at Moiraine’s words. She nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered. “I hope so,” she murmured.

Moiraine reached for the teapot and poured another cup of tea, offering it to Elyndria. “Drink this. It will help calm your mind. You’ve been through a great deal these past few days.”

Elyndria took the cup gratefully, savoring the warmth of the tea in her hands. “Thank you,” she said softly, though her thoughts still lingered on the strange flashes she had seen in the Ways.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire. Elyndria’s mind raced, but the warmth of the tea and Moiraine’s quiet presence gave her a small sense of comfort, even as she grappled with the confusion swirling inside her.

Elyndria took another sip of her tea, the warmth spreading through her. Her thoughts were still tangled in the strange visions she’d experienced, but as the silence stretched between them, she found herself shifting the conversation.

“Moiraine,” she began softly, “I’ve been wondering about you and Saerel. You’ve both been together for so long, through so much. What was she like when she was younger?”

Moiraine’s expression softened as she considered the question. For a moment, she didn’t answer, her eyes seeming to drift back in time. Then, a small chuckle escaped her lips, breaking the quiet.

“She was dreadfully shy,” Moiraine said, her voice carrying a touch of fondness. “Hard to get two sentences out of her, especially in the early days. She would keep her head down, barely speaking, and always seem... unsure of herself. It was almost like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, even as a novice.”

Elyndria’s eyes widened in surprise. She couldn’t imagine Saerel—strong, confident, and unwavering—ever being shy. But then, she remembered how the world had shaped them all, how the White Tower had molded them in its own way. The transformation wasn’t all that impossible.

“But she was strong,” Moiraine continued, her voice turning thoughtful. “Even back then. Despite the quietness, there was this inner fire in her. She was a fighter, not just with a blade but with her heart. I think she always knew what she wanted. No surprise she chose the Green Ajah.” Moiraine’s smile grew just a little. “She wasn’t one for sitting quietly by while the world burned. As quiet as she was back then, she stood her ground when others would bend. There was something about her. Something that made you believe she would always rise, no matter how hard the world tried to push her down.”

Elyndria took in the words, sensing a deeper affection in Moiraine’s tone than she had expected. She’d known Saerel as a mentor, a woman strong in her own right, but hearing this softer side of her, hearing the friendship between them through Moiraine’s eyes, made Elyndria appreciate their bond all the more.

“That’s not the Saerel I know,” Elyndria remarked, a small smile tugging at her lips. “The Saerel I met is already so strong. I can’t imagine her being quiet, even for a moment.”

Moiraine’s smile widened. “Oh, trust me, it’s hard to imagine. But she’s come a long way. We all have.” She took a slow breath, her eyes seeming to look inward for a moment, lost in the past. “I suppose... we all had to find our place, didn’t we? Even if that place was hard to find at first.”

Elyndria nodded, feeling the weight of Moiraine’s words. The quiet intensity between them lingered as the fire crackled softly in the hearth. Elyndria didn’t speak immediately. Instead, she let the conversation sit with her, the warmth of the tea, the gentle presence of Moiraine, and the weight of all they had yet to face.

There was a quiet knock at the door, a sound that made both Elyndria and Moiraine turn toward it in unison. Moiraine’s eyes narrowed briefly, as though she was already expecting someone. Without waiting for an invitation, she rose and walked to the door, opening it to reveal Rand standing in the doorway. His face was pale, his expression hard and set, but his gaze was unwavering.

For a moment, the two of them simply stared at each other. Elyndria stood, unsure of what to say or do, but something about the way Rand’s eyes flickered toward her made her heart tighten.

“I thought you were going to bed,” Elyndria said quietly, breaking the silence.

Rand glanced at her, a faint frown on his lips. “I couldn’t,” he replied, his voice low and heavy with something she couldn’t quite place. “I couldn’t stop thinking about things. Things I heard while we were in the Ways. What I did... I didn’t mention it before, but now I realize it—it was me. I used the Power.”

He paused, his words hanging in the air, and Elyndria could feel the weight of his confession pressing down on them both.

“I stopped the Trolloc,” Rand continued, his eyes not meeting Elyndria’s now, but rather looking down, as if trying to sort through his own thoughts. “I didn’t think it was possible, but... maybe it was.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

Elyndria watched him closely, the weight of his words beginning to settle within her as she tried to make sense of them. This was Rand al'Thor—just a young man from the Two Rivers—but now, he was standing here, telling them he had used the One Power without even realizing it.

He turned to Moiraine now, his gaze more intense, almost desperate. “I went to the Seer... Min. I asked her what she saw about me. She told me things. Things I wasn’t ready to hear.” His voice dropped, and Elyndria could see the raw emotion in his eyes. “She recognized my blade. She saw it in a vision. A vision of my birth. I was born at the slopes of Dragonmount and my father took me back to the Two Rivers. She said... she said—”

Moiraine suddenly stepped forward, her expression shifting from curiosity to something far more intense. There was a flash of recognition in her eyes, the realization dawning on her in a moment that Elyndria could almost feel in her chest.

“You are the Dragon Reborn,” Moiraine said, her voice calm but full of weight, as if she had just unlocked a truth that had been hidden for centuries. The words hung in the air like thunder, echoing through the room, leaving nothing but a stunned silence in their wake.

Rand stood frozen, his eyes wide, as though he had expected the words to come but had never truly been ready to hear them. His face remained pale, and for the first time, Elyndria saw a crack in his confidence—a vulnerability that had been buried beneath the surface.

“The Dragon Reborn...” Elyndria whispered, as if testing the weight of the words on her own tongue. “But... that means...”

“Everything is about to change,” Moiraine finished for her, the cold finality of her words hanging in the air. The truth was out now, and with it came an understanding of how deep the path they were walking really was.

Rand nodded slowly, as if the enormity of it was finally sinking in. “I don’t know what to do with this... I don’t know what any of it means,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly.

Moiraine gave him a sympathetic look, one of the few times Elyndria had seen her show such openness. “You will come to understand. You are the one who must walk this path. You will need the strength to face it, but you are not alone. Not now. Not ever.”

Elyndria looked at Rand, her heart heavy with a mix of sympathy and awe. The weight of his destiny was more than anyone could bear alone, but she knew one thing for sure: Rand would need every bit of strength, every bit of support, if they were all going to survive what was coming.

For a long moment, the three of them stood in the silence, the gravity of the revelation sinking in deeper with each passing second. It wasn’t just Rand’s fate that had changed, but the fate of the entire world. Moiraine’s voice was firm, resolute, as she spoke. “We leave immediately. Before anyone becomes too curious about our presence here, before the city begins to stir with rumors.” Her eyes flicked from Rand to Elyndria, her expression unreadable but unmistakably serious.

Elyndria felt her pulse quicken. “What about the others?” she asked, the question escaping her before she could stop it. They couldn’t just leave without an explanation. They couldn’t just vanish, especially not with the others left behind. She couldn’t shake the image of their faces—Lan, Nynaeve, Perrin, Loial, and Egwene—caught off guard, wondering why they had been abandoned.

Rand, who had been standing stiffly by the door, suddenly shifted uncomfortably. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with something that resembled fear. “They can’t come,” he said, his voice low but intense. “They’ll die.”

Elyndria blinked, taken aback by his vehemence. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion and concern. She could see the distress in Rand’s face, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. But still, she couldn’t fully understand the depth of his words.

“I can’t let them get hurt,” Rand continued, his tone growing more insistent, his eyes turning desperate. “I’m the Dragon Reborn. Not them. If they stay, they’ll be in danger. They’ll be a liability.” His gaze flickered to Moiraine, then back to Elyndria. “It’s me they want. Not them.”

Moiraine, watching him closely, nodded in agreement. “He’s right,” she said quietly. “They will be a distraction. A liability the Dark One will use against you, Rand.” She turned to Elyndria then, her gaze unwavering. “You know how this works. The more people around you, the more potential leverage the Shadow gains.”

Elyndria's heart sank, and she looked between Moiraine and Rand. The weight of the decision, the gravity of what they were being asked to do, settled over her like a heavy cloak.

But she knew they were right. Nynaeve, Perrin, Loial, and Egwene were not trained for what lay ahead. They had no idea of the dangers they were truly facing. The Dark One wouldn’t spare them. They were simply ordinary people, caught in something far beyond their control.

Elyndria nodded slowly, though a gnawing uncertainty lingered in her chest. “I understand,” she said, though the words felt hollow. “But... they’ll be angry when they find out. They’ll be worried.”

Rand’s face softened for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on him. “I don’t want to hurt them. But... I have to think about what’s best for them.” His eyes met hers, and there was a painful vulnerability in his gaze. “If we don’t leave now, it might be too late. They can’t be dragged into this fight.”

Elyndria swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes lingering on Rand before shifting back to Moiraine. She saw the quiet resolution in the Aes Sedai’s eyes—the same quiet determination that had guided them through the dangers of the Ways, through their long journey thus far. Moiraine was right.

“It’s better this way,” Moiraine said, almost as if reading her thoughts. “You’ve already seen what the Shadow can do. It will not hesitate to use the people around you as pawns. The fewer people who know, the better.”

Elyndria’s heart felt heavy with the weight of the decision, but in the end, she knew they had no choice. “Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She could only hope the others would understand, even if it took them years to forgive them.

Rand let out a long breath, as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. The silence in the room hung thick for a moment, but eventually, it was broken by Moiraine’s calm voice. “We leave now, then. It’s the only way.”

Elyndria gave a nod, her mind racing with the consequences of their decision. As they prepared to leave, the thought of the others—of Lan, Nynaeve, Perrin, Loial, and Egwene—clung to her like a shadow. She could already imagine the looks of confusion, maybe anger, that would cross their faces when they realized the truth.

But the journey ahead was one that none of them could take lightly. Time was short. And the Dark One, if they were not careful, would soon have them all in his grasp. The cold night air greeted them as they stepped out of the room and into the dimly lit halls of Fal Dara. Moiraine led the way, her movements deliberate, her expression unreadable. Rand and Elyndria followed closely behind, their steps in sync as they made their way toward the courtyard.

As they passed through the stone corridors, Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that clung to her. She had always been taught to trust in the wisdom of the Aes Sedai, especially Moiraine, but leaving the others behind felt wrong. She could only imagine how they would react when they discovered they had been abandoned.

Outside, the courtyard was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The dark shadows of the towering stone walls loomed over them, but Elyndria couldn’t bring herself to feel the security the fortress should have offered. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as though they were walking into a storm they couldn’t yet see.

Rand’s face was set in grim determination, but Elyndria could see the flicker of fear in his eyes, the fear of the unknown. He had already made his decision, but the weight of it was no less heavy.

Moiraine turned to them. “We cannot waste any more time. If we leave now, we can slip away without attracting attention. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get a head start.”

Elyndria glanced at Rand, then at Moiraine. “And what about the others?” she asked again, her voice soft but insistent. “What will we tell them when they come looking for us?”

Rand’s expression darkened, and he looked away. “They’ll figure it out. They’ll be angry, but it’s the only way. I won’t let them get caught up in this.”

Moiraine spoke again, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We must focus on the present. We don’t have the luxury of waiting for them to understand. The longer we stay, the greater the risk.”

Elyndria felt a pang in her chest, but she nodded. She knew they were right. She just wished there was another way.

The three of them moved quickly through the courtyard, blending into the shadows as they made their way to the gates of the fortress. The air was crisp and sharp, the quiet hum of the night their only companion. Moiraine walked with confidence, leading them toward the edge of the fortress, to a small side gate.

Once they passed the gate, they found themselves on the open road. It was a desolate path, stretching endlessly under the stars. Elyndria, Rand, and Moiraine walked silently together, their footsteps muffled by the gravel beneath them. The night sky above them was dotted with stars, but the darkness around them seemed to grow heavier with every step. The weight of the decision they had made settled in their minds.

Elyndria kept her pace steady, though her mind raced. They were leaving behind everything they knew, walking away from the only safety they had in this world. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers they couldn’t predict. And yet, there was no other choice.

The quiet of the night followed them as they made their way through the deserted streets of Fal Dara, slipping past the fortress walls and into the wilderness beyond. The stars hung like cold diamonds in the sky, offering little warmth as the weight of their departure pressed down on them. Elyndria, Rand, and Moiraine walked in silence, the air thick with the scent of pine and earth. Their destination was unknown, the path ahead cloaked in shadow, but there was no turning back now.

As they moved farther from the city, the land began to change, the comforting familiarity of the Borderlands fading behind them. The landscape grew wilder, darker. The night air became heavier, pressing down on them as they passed through the last of the familiar trees and the world seemed to grow quieter.

"Where are we going?" Elyndria asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Moiraine did not look back, her pace steady. "To the Eye of the World. We must cross through the Blight to reach it."

Elyndria felt a chill run through her at the mention of the Blight. The very name made her stomach tighten, a sense of dread creeping into her bones. It was a place no sane person dared venture into unless they had no other choice.

Rand, walking beside her, shifted his gaze nervously to the horizon where the dark shapes of twisted trees and gnarled vines began to emerge. The moonlight barely filtered through the dense canopy of the forest ahead. A sickly green light seemed to pulse in the distance, a subtle but unmistakable warning.

"What is that?" Rand asked, his voice low with apprehension.

Moiraine paused for a moment, turning her head slightly to answer him. "That is the Blight."

They came to the edge of the forest, and Elyndria felt a sudden coldness, as though the very air was thick with decay. The trees before them were not like the trees of the Borderlands. They were misshapen, their trunks gnarled and twisted as though in perpetual agony. Thick vines hung from every branch, their leaves black and sickly, twisting and shifting as if alive. The ground was covered in a thick carpet of moss, and every step seemed to sink deeper into the rot.

Without another word, Moiraine stepped into the Blight, her boots crunching softly on the overgrown earth. Rand hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking between Moiraine and the dark expanse before them. Then, with a deep breath, he followed.

Elyndria glanced down, her stomach tightening. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes landed on the ground—a skeletal hand, fingers bony and twisted, protruded from the moss. The skeleton itself lay half-buried in the dirt, the bones pale and brittle. Vines had wound themselves around the remains, growing through the ribs, twisting like the roots of a twisted tree. The body’s hollow eyes stared upward, a silent testament to the death that the Blight brought. Elyndria stepped back, a feeling of nausea rising in her throat.

"This place... it’s unnatural," she whispered, almost to herself.

"That’s the Blight," Moiraine said softly, not stopping her pace. "It spreads like a disease, creeping out from the Dark One’s prison. Nothing grows here unless it is corrupted, twisted. You will see things like this all along our journey. The land is a reflection of the Dark One’s influence."

Rand shuddered, his eyes scanning the sickly landscape ahead. The Blight stretched for miles in every direction, a never-ending expanse of decay and death. No trees or animals lived here. There was only the rot, the vines, and the ever-present feeling that something was watching them.

"I didn’t think it would be this... bad," Rand said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I’ve heard stories, but this is—"

"Yes," Moiraine interrupted, her tone clipped and firm. "It is as bad as it sounds. The Blight is a place of death, and it spreads with every passing year. We have no choice but to go through it. It is the only way to reach the Eye of the World."

Elyndria, still staring at the twisted remains of the skeleton, slowly looked up, her eyes meeting Rand’s. The weight of the moment hit her. They were walking through a land of death, a land where every step carried the risk of falling to the darkness. There was no turning back now.

Chapter 12: Threads Woven Together

As they moved deeper into the Blight, the forest seemed to close in around them. The air felt thick, the very earth beneath their feet seeming to pulse with a malevolent energy. Elyndria quickened her pace to match Rand’s, her mind racing with thoughts of the future, of the journey ahead. She felt a strange mix of fear and determination; the kind of fear that came when one faced something far greater than oneself, yet the determination to keep moving forward, no matter the cost.

They would walk through this forsaken land together, as strange as it seemed, for there was no other way. The Eye of the World awaited, and they would face whatever came their way. But the Blight, with its twisted vines and the bones of those who had failed, would always be there, a silent reminder of what they were up against.

The air grew heavier as they pressed on, thick with the scent of damp earth and something more sinister—something rotting. The trees around them twisted in unnatural shapes, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. Vines hung low, swaying though no wind stirred, and Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling that the Blight itself was watching them, waiting.

Rand moved cautiously beside her, his grip tightening on his sword hilt. Moiraine led the way, her posture rigid, her eyes scanning the darkness ahead. They had been walking for what felt like hours, each step drawing them deeper into the heart of this forsaken land. The twisted trees of the Blight thinned slightly, revealing jagged silhouettes against the horizon. Rand narrowed his eyes, studying the distant structures. They stood like broken teeth, their once-proud spires shattered and crumbling. Vines, thick and dark, wrapped around the stone like a serpent squeezing the last breath from its prey.

Moiraine stopped abruptly, her sharp gaze fixed on the distant ruins. “Good,” she murmured. “We’re getting closer. We can rest here. For an hour, no more.”

Rand exhaled, his legs aching from the relentless pace they had kept. His gaze didn’t leave the ruins. “What are those?”

Moiraine followed his gaze. “The Seven Towers of Malkier.”

Rand stiffened. “Malkier? That’s where Lan said he was born.” He took a step forward, taking in the decayed towers. “It looks like it’s been that way a thousand years.”

Moiraine shook her head, her voice clipped. “Forty at most. Three years ago, it was miles from Tarwin’s Gap. It’s just another sign that the Dark One’s strength is building.”

Elyndria had been silent, but now she turned toward Moiraine, searching the Aes Sedai’s face for any sign of unease. She found none. Moiraine’s features remained composed, but there was something in her voice, something almost imperceptible.

Rand hesitated, then asked, “Was it hard?”

Moiraine finally looked at him. “What?”

“To leave him behind.”

Moiraine’s expression didn’t change, but for the briefest moment, Elyndria thought she saw something flicker in the Aes Sedai’s eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Moiraine reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out a wrapped parcel. She tossed it to Rand. “Here. Have some of that. You need to keep up your strength.”

Rand caught the food and unwrapped it, tearing off a piece before holding it out to Elyndria. “You should eat too.”

She hesitated, then took it with a small nod of thanks. The warmth of the food, however meager, was a comfort against the chill of the Blight.

As they sat in uneasy silence, Elyndria found her thoughts drifting to Alanna and her Warders. She tried to imagine Alanna leaving them behind as Moiraine had done with Lan. The thought felt impossible. Alanna’s bond with her Warders was different—deeper, perhaps, or at least more openly felt. Elyndria couldn’t picture her making the same choice.

Elyndria felt Rand beginning to settle down beside her when he stopped abruptly, she heard as his breath hitched, staring wide-eyed over Moiraine shoulders. Elyndria stood straighter, was something come to attack them? She followed his stare and blanched as she saw what had made Rand look so horrified.

A few paces ahead, half-buried in the tangled undergrowth, lay the body of a young man. His skin was pallid, almost translucent, and his face was frozen in a twisted mask of pain. Moss had begun to creep up his arms, and pale mushrooms sprouted from his chest and legs as if the very earth was reclaiming him. His fingers were curled into the dirt, his nails blackened and cracked.

Rand swallowed hard. “What happened to him?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Moiraine sighed, merely glancing at the corpse with an expression of grim acceptance. “Boys from the Borderlands sometimes like to test themselves against the Blight,” she said. “And they usually come up wanting.”

Elyndria shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. The sight of the corpse made her stomach twist, not just from horror but from something deeper—an understanding of how easily it could be them.

Rand took a hesitant step closer, his face grim, but Moiraine shot him a sharp look.

“Don’t touch him,” she warned. “Don’t touch anything here. The Blight is a rot that spreads from the Dark One’s prison and consumes everything in its path. Including young men in way over their heads.”

Rand stiffened but stepped back. Elyndria let out a slow breath. The body, the unnatural way the moss clung to his skin, the eerie quiet—it was all wrong. She turned her gaze away, forcing herself not to stare at the body. The Blight pressed in around them, silent, watching. And the deeper they went, the more Elyndria wondered if they would ever leave it behind.

---

Rand had fallen asleep against a twisted tree, his breath steady despite the unnatural stillness around them. The Blight did not sleep, but exhaustion had finally claimed him.

Elyndria sat a short distance from Moiraine, absently tracing patterns in the dirt with her fingertips. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but it carried a weight, heavy with unspoken thoughts. The only sounds were the distant creaking of shifting branches and the quiet pulse of her own heartbeat in her ears.

“They would have realized we have gone by now,” Elyndria murmured.

Moiraine did not look at her, but her response came softly. “Yes.”

Elyndria hesitated before continuing, glancing toward Rand’s sleeping form. “I may not be able to fathom having a Warder myself or being bonded to one, but I have seen my sisters with theirs. I do not imagine Lan will take being left behind so lightly.”

Moiraine’s lips pursed slightly, the only outward sign of tension. “Lan will have to accept our leaving either way. It was for the greater good.” Her voice was calm, steady, but there was an edge to it, like a blade held just out of sight. “The others would divert Rand from his path in vanquishing the Dark One. They would lead him to distractions, to worry. If they were here, his focus would waver. We cannot fail this mission, Elyndria. The world depends on it.”

Elyndria exhaled slowly, the weight of those words pressing into her chest. How had it come to this? She had been a servant girl once, tending to Aes Sedai, scrubbing floors, fetching water. Now she sat beside Moiraine in the heart of the Blight, burdened with a mission that could change the fate of the world.

She glanced at Moiraine, her voice quieter now. “Do you think we can do it?”

Moiraine finally turned to look at her.

Elyndria swallowed, then forced herself to continue. “He’s been around for so long. The stories I’ve heard, the destruction I’ve seen from his forces… it makes me scared.” She admitted the last part in a whisper, as if saying it too loudly would make it real.

Moiraine was silent for a long moment. Then, at last, she spoke.

“Good.”

Elyndria frowned. “Good?”

“It is better to be scared,” Moiraine said evenly. “It means you have your wits about you. You will need them in this fight.”

Elyndria studied her, something twisting in her gut. Moiraine had answered, but not the question Elyndria had truly asked. She had not said whether they could win.

And that, more than anything, made Elyndria’s fear settle deep into her bones.
Rand suddenly startled awake with a sharp, gasping breath. His hands clenched into fists against the damp, rotting earth beneath him.

Elyndria tensed, watching him from where she sat nearby. There was an eerie stillness to the Blight, a silence too unnatural for any place where things lived. But the Blight wasn’t alive, not in the way it should be. It was a thing that consumed, twisted, and remade. And it seeped into your thoughts, into your dreams.

Moiraine’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. “What? What did you dream?”

Rand wiped at his face, exhaling sharply. He didn’t answer immediately, his expression tight, guarded.

“Dreams have great meaning,” Moiraine pressed, “especially here, so close to his touch.”

Elyndria shivered. She didn’t need to ask who his referred to.

Rand’s jaw clenched. “It was the Dark One.”

Moiraine’s gaze sharpened. “What did he say to you?”

Elyndria watched closely. Rand wasn’t just shaken, he was disturbed. He had seen something in that dream, something he didn’t want to repeat.

“I don’t believe a word he said,” Rand muttered finally. His tone was flat, but Elyndria wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Moiraine or himself.

Then, as if desperate to move, to shake off whatever still clung to him from sleep, he pushed himself up and strode past Moiraine. “When we get there, what’s our plan?”

Moiraine didn’t move. “What did he say to you in the dream?”

Rand exhaled sharply, turning back toward her. “No, this is about you,” he snapped. “You always have a plan within a plan within a plan. Don’t try to convince me that for this, you’ve got nothing.”

Elyndria barely noticed she was holding her breath. It was rare to see Rand push back at Moiraine so directly, but something about this was different. Something about this felt different.

Moiraine studied him for a long moment, then finally reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled something out. A small carving. At first, it seemed like nothing more than a simple figure of a man in a seated position. But Elyndria felt it before she truly saw it.

The air around it seemed to hum, a whisper at the edge of her senses.

Moiraine held it out between them. “This is a sa’angreal,” she said. “It was made before the Breaking of the World, created from the One Power itself. Thousands of male channelers put the entirety of their strength into this one small object. And when you channel into it, it will increase your power a hundredfold.”

Rand took it hesitantly, turning it over in his hands.

Elyndria swallowed. “And what do you do with that power?”

Rand looked at Moiraine expectantly.

Moiraine met his gaze without hesitation. “You put him back where he belongs, where his touch can’t reach the earth for another three thousand years.”

Elyndria stared at the carving. Something inside her recoiled at the enormity of it. She had read the prophecies, had studied them as an Accepted. But seeing Rand hold that small piece of history in his hands—knowing that it was meant for him—made the weight of those words unbearable.

Rand turned the figurine over once more. “And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

Silence.

Elyndria turned to Moiraine. “He has no training,” she said, her voice calm despite the unease curling in her stomach. “He’s barely been taught to use the One Power. How will he know what to do when the time comes?”

Rand stiffened slightly but said nothing for a moment before quietly saying, “You thought it would be Egwene. You taught her to channel. You introduced her to your Amyrlin Seat. You thought it was her.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “So did I.”

Elyndria’s heart twisted.

Moiraine didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to.

Rand exhaled, slow and deep. Then, finally, his grip tightened around the sa’angreal, and he lifted his chin. “I will fight him,” Rand said. His voice was steady, but Elyndria could see the weight pressing down on him, the enormity of what he was saying.

He looked between them, his gaze lingering on Elyndria for a moment longer than necessary.

“The world will not fall because of me.”

They walked in silence, the oppressive air of the Blight settling around them like a second skin. Gnarled trees twisted toward them with blackened branches, and the ground beneath their boots was soft, almost as if the earth itself had begun to rot.

Rand trailed behind, his grip tight around the sa’angreal. He kept turning it over in his hands, tracing the grooves of the carved figure with his thumb, his expression distant.

Elyndria noticed how quiet he had been since Moiraine had given it to him. The weight of the object, the weight of what it meant—she knew it must have been suffocating.

Without a word, she slowed her pace and fell back to walk beside him.

Rand glanced at her, then let out a long sigh. “I’m okay,” he muttered. “You don’t have to watch over me.”

Elyndria chuckled, though it was half-hearted. “That’s a lie if I ever heard one.”

Rand’s mouth twitched. “Hear lots of them, do you?”

She shook her head. “I’ve lived in the White Tower nearly my entire life. The Aes Sedai take oaths that prevent them from lying. Instead of lies, they twist their words around, almost like a maze to understand them sometimes.”

Rand scoffed. “Your Aes Sedai.”

Elyndria glanced away. “I’ve only been Accepted for a year,” she admitted. “I’m not quite good at twisting my words, I’m afraid.”

For the first time in what felt like hours, Rand smiled. It was small, barely there, but it was something. “Trust me, I’m happy about that,” he said. “I already get a headache trying to understand Moiraine.”

Elyndria smirked. “You’re not the only one.”

They continued walking, the brief moment of levity swallowed once more by the grimness of the path ahead. Rand was quiet for a long moment, his fingers still absently tracing the grooves of the sa’angreal. The weight of it in his hands was nothing compared to the weight of what lay ahead. He didn’t look at Elyndria when he finally spoke.

“Do you think I can do it?” His voice was softer than she expected, almost unsure. “Stop the Dark One?”

Elyndria hesitated.

She wanted to say yes, wanted to reassure him without a shred of doubt. But she had doubts. She had fears. The Dark One was older than any living memory, a force of destruction so vast it had shaken the world to its core time and time again. How could she stand here and tell him that one man could truly stop it?

But looking at him now—the way his shoulders had squared despite his uncertainty, the way he carried the burden placed on him without complaint—she knew the truth.

“You’re the only person who has a chance,” she said at last. “Whatever happens… I’ll be there beside you. To the very end.”

Rand turned his head, searching her face, as if trying to see if she truly meant it.

She did.

“I’ve seen what his destruction causes,” Elyndria continued, her voice steadier now. “Entire cities turned to dust, families torn apart, lives snuffed out like candle flames. I won’t step aside and let him further his reach.”

Rand swallowed hard and nodded. He turned his gaze back to the path ahead, his grip firming around the sa’angreal. The air felt heavier now, thick with the sickly scent of decay. Every step forward felt like wading through something unseen, something waiting just beyond the edges of their vision. The Blight was alive, and it was watching.

The sudden creak of straining wood shattered the uneasy quiet. Rand froze, his body tensing. In one swift motion, he knocked an arrow in his bow, his eyes scanning the trees. Moiraine did not hesitate either, embracing the One Power, the air around her humming with unseen energy.

Elyndria turned her head, searching for the source of the sound. The trees around them twisted unnaturally, their blackened limbs stretching out like skeletal fingers. A moment later, a large, rotted branch gave way, crashing to the ground in a spray of dirt and dead leaves.

Rand exhaled sharply, lowering his bow. Moiraine’s grip on the One Power eased, though she did not release it completely.

“Just a branch,” Rand muttered, though the tension in his stance did not fade.

No one voiced what they were all thinking. The Blight was full of dangers, and not all of them had the courtesy to announce themselves before striking.

They kept moving.

Rand’s voice broke the silence first. “Will you teach me how to channel?”

Moiraine didn’t look at him. “I can’t,” she said simply. “Every time you touch the Source, it'll take you closer and closer to the madness.”

Elyndria’s stomach twisted at the words. She had seen what the madness did to male channelers. She had seen Logain, the way his mind had unraveled, the haunted look in his eyes before they gentled him. The memory of it sent a shiver down her spine. How long before Rand suffered the same fate?

Rand scoffed. “Oh, do you think I care what happens to me after today?”

Moiraine finally turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. “When you face him, the fear, the adrenaline—you’ll embrace the One Power whether you want to or not.”

Rand frowned. “What if I don’t?”

“You will,” Moiraine said without hesitation.

Rand stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. Elyndria paused as well, watching the exchange with careful eyes.

“How can you be so sure?” Rand demanded.

Moiraine was silent for a moment before she spoke again, her voice quieter, almost distant.

“There was an Aes Sedai at the White Tower when I was a novice,” she began. “She was everything I wanted to be. She was strong, controlled, precise. She… she was terrifying. And she took a liking to me. She said she wanted to help make me everything that she thought I could be.

“I was having trouble channeling, and she came to my room at night, alone… and she beat me with the One Power. Lashes of air and fire. She wouldn’t stop until the pain and the fear were so overwhelming that I grabbed the Power myself and I stopped her. Without even thinking about it. Without even trying.”

Elyndria stiffened. The White Tower could be harsh, she knew that, but to hear this—Moiraine, who was always so composed, speaking of such cruelty—it left her shaken.

Moiraine looked at Rand, her voice firm. “I promise you, when your life’s on the line, the Power will be there. And when it comes to you, you will channel it into the sa’angreal.”

Rand held her gaze for a long moment, then looked down at the small carved figure in his hands. His thumb ran over the worn surface, tracing its shape.

Elyndria watched him carefully. His expression was unreadable, but she could see the weight of everything pressing down on him. He was the Dragon Reborn—the one prophesied to either save the world or destroy it.

And yet, he was just a man.

She stepped closer, her voice softer than before. “You’re not alone in this, Rand.”

He looked up at her, searching her face.

She meant it. Whatever lay ahead, whatever battles they faced, she would stand beside him. Rand gave a small nod, then turned back to the path ahead. He tucked the sa’angreal into his belt and kept walking. Elyndria followed, the weight of their mission settling heavily on her shoulders.

A distant roar echoed through the Blight, low and guttural, like the growl of some great beast. Elyndria stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. Rand and Moiraine both turned, pushing through the curtain of tangled vines.

Beyond the rotting foliage, the land sloped downward toward Tarwin’s Gap, a jagged scar in the earth where the Borderlands stood defiant against the darkness. The sight below made Elyndria's stomach drop. A horde of Trollocs surged forward like a black tide, their twisted forms barely distinguishable in the dim light, their weapons glinting in the gloom.

Rand gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white. “What is that?” His voice was hushed, as if speaking too loudly would draw the creatures’ attention.

Moiraine’s face was unreadable, but her fingers tightened on the folds of her cloak. “Well,” she said, her voice cool and measured, “he knows we’re coming.”

Rand took a half-step forward, his breathing uneven. “But Egwene… Perrin, Nynaeve… they’re in the city.” His eyes darted from the advancing horde back toward Fal Dara, his body tense with the instinct to turn back.

Elyndria swallowed hard, her mind racing. She knew what was coming before Moiraine even spoke.

“The only way to stop that army,” Moiraine said, “is to stop the Dark One himself.”

She turned without hesitation, resuming their trek deeper into the Blight.

Rand hesitated. Elyndria saw the turmoil in his face, the weight of responsibility battling against fear for the people he loved.

She placed a hand on his arm, her grip firm. “They’re strong, Rand,” she said softly. “Stronger than you know.”

He exhaled sharply, eyes flickering with doubt before he tore them away from the battlefield below. Then, with a reluctant nod, he turned and followed Moiraine.

Elyndria cast one last glance toward the oncoming army, a deep unease settling in her chest. She could still hear the roars, still feel the distant tremors of thousands of boots pounding against the earth. But Moiraine was right. The real fight lay ahead.

Steeling herself, she pressed forward into the darkness.

The three of them continued on until they stood at the edge of the vast, gaping pit. The ancient stone steps spiraled downward into darkness, carved by hands long forgotten. Vines and moss clung to the edges, trying to reclaim what time had left behind. The air here was thick—oppressive in a way that made Elyndria’s skin crawl. The weight of something old and powerful pressed down upon them.

Rand’s breath was unsteady as he stared into the abyss. His fingers tightened around the sa’angreal, knuckles white. “This is it, isn’t it?” His voice was barely above a whisper. He took a hesitant step toward the edge. “I know this place.”

He moved to descend but suddenly stopped, turning back to Moiraine.

“You said that whoever goes with the Dragon to the Eye of the World will die there.” His voice wavered slightly. “Does that include you?”

Moiraine didn’t answer. She only regarded him with the calm patience of someone who had long accepted the inevitable.

Rand’s jaw clenched. “Stay.” It was a plea, quiet but firm.

Moiraine gave him a small, knowing smile, then stepped past him without hesitation, descending into the darkness below.

Elyndria shifted on her feet. The fear gnawed at her, but she had made her choice.

Rand turned to her next, his expression filled with barely restrained frustration. “You should stay too,” he said. “It’s dangerous.”

Elyndria arched an eyebrow at him. “I assumed that much.”

“I mean it, Elyndria,” he pressed. “You don’t have to go down there. You don’t have to die for this.”

Something in his voice made her pause. He wasn’t just worried—he was afraid for her. She had seen that fear before, in the way he spoke of his friends, of Egwene, of Perrin and Mat. He carried the burden of responsibility for everyone around him, shouldering it as though it was his alone to bear.

Elyndria let out a slow breath. “And you think I would let you go down there alone?” she asked softly.

Rand’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He didn’t answer.

She reached out, hesitating only a moment before placing a hand on his arm. “You’re not the only one willing to fight for this world,” she said. “I’ve seen what the Dark One’s touch does. I watched what happened to Logain. I won’t let that darkness spread further. If you have to face him, then I’ll be at your side.”

Rand closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled in defeat. He nodded once. “You’re as stubborn as the rest of them.”

Elyndria smiled faintly. “It’s a requirement for surviving the White Tower.”

Rand let out a short, tired chuckle before looking at her again. He wanted to argue, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything.

So, together, they stepped forward, following Moiraine into the Eye of the World.

---

Elyndria’s breath came fast as they reached the bottom of the Eye. The space felt ancient, untouched by time yet thrumming with something far older than she could comprehend. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and decay. The walls were lined with twisting vines from the Blight, creeping along the cracks as if trying to reclaim this place.

She barely noticed any of it.

Her focus was on Rand.

His steps slowed as he took in the space, his eyes darting over the ruins, his face unreadable. But Elyndria saw the way his fingers twitched, how his breath grew shallower. He knew this place, though she doubted even he understood how.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Rand whispered. “I know this place.”

Elyndria frowned but said nothing as he stepped further in. His gaze locked onto the symbol on the floor—half black, half white, divided by a curved line. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai.

Moiraine’s voice was steady. “You said you remember this place. What do you remember?”

Rand exhaled sharply. “The pieces don’t… fit together. It’s like a puzzle. Or a dream. Every time I grab onto something, it just slips away.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine.

Rand knelt before the symbol, hesitating for just a moment before reaching out. The moment his fingers brushed the stone, his entire body seized. His eyes rolled back, and then he collapsed.

“Rand!” Elyndria was at his side before she even realized she had moved. She dropped to her knees, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, her fingers gripping him tightly. His body was rigid, his face unnaturally still.

“Rand, wake up! Rand, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Moiraine had moved to stand behind them, her presence a protective force. She did not kneel. Did not reach for him. But her eyes were sharp, her focus absolute.

Then the air in the chamber shifted.

Elyndria felt it before she saw anything—a pressure, a weight in the space around them. The hair on the back of her neck rose.

A man stood before them.

Not a creature of the Blight. Not a Fade or a twisted, monstrous thing. A man. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he studied them, his presence suffocating in its intensity.

“You came all this way,” he mused. “Did you think you were prepared for what you’d find?”

Elyndria’s pulse pounded.

Moiraine moved instantly, weaving the One Power but before the threads could form, the man flicked his wrist. A shield snapped around her, cutting her off. Moiraine gasped, her body going rigid, her face twisting in pain.

The man crouched before them, his attention settling on Rand’s unconscious form in Elyndria’s arms.

“I wonder what he’ll choose,” he murmured. “Light… or Dark?”

Elyndria clenched her jaw, her arms tightening protectively around Rand.

Then Moiraine did something that sent ice through her veins.

She drew her dagger and pressed it against Rand’s throat.

Elyndria froze.

“If he doesn’t choose the Light,” Moiraine said coldly, “I’ll choose for him.”

For a moment, Elyndria could not breathe.

Her grip on Rand tightened, her entire body going rigid with fury. “No,” she whispered. “No, Moiraine, you won’t.”

Moiraine did not even look at her. Her focus remained locked on the man before them, her hand steady, the dagger unmoving.

Elyndria’s heart pounded against her ribs. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. They were supposed to protect Rand. To fight for him. Not turn on him.

The man smiled slightly, tilting his head. “Interesting.”

Then—

A surge of power.

The sa’angreal in Rand’s pocket pulsed with light. The air in the chamber thickened, crackling with something enormous, something beyond comprehension.

A wave of energy erupted from Rand, blasting the man across the chamber. The very foundations of the Eye trembled, cracks splintering through the stone.

Rand gasped awake, his body shuddering. Elyndria kept hold of him, her fingers digging into his arms.

Moiraine was at his side in an instant, steadying him. “What happened?”

Rand swallowed, his voice hoarse. “I did it.”

Elyndria let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

But Rand’s face remained shadowed.

“We can’t go back to Fal Dara,” Moiraine said. “Not yet.”

Rand shook his head. “I’m not going back.”

Elyndria blinked. “What? Rand, you have to—”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable.

“I felt it,” he said quietly. “The madness. It’s true, isn’t it? What they say about men who can channel. That eventually, they go so mad they kill everyone they’ve ever loved.”

Moiraine didn’t hesitate. “It is.”

Elyndria felt something deep inside her twist. Rand clenched his jaw. “I have a favor to ask. Just one.”

A feeling of dread settled deep in Elyndria’s stomach, cold and heavy, as if the air had thickened around her. She already knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to say. She could see it in the way his hands curled into fists, in the rigid set of his shoulders, in the quiet resignation in his voice—as though he had already made up his mind, as though he had decided his own fate.

“Tell them I died here,” he said. “Tell them I didn’t make it back.”

The ground beneath her seemed to shift. Elyndria barely felt herself breathing, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs. No. No, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

“No.” The word tore from her throat, raw and desperate before she could stop it. “No, Rand. You can’t do this.”

He turned away, as if looking at her would break his resolve.

“You owe me that much, Moiraine,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost weary.

For a moment, Moiraine hesitated. Elyndria saw the brief flicker in her expression, the way her lips pressed together, before she nodded. She wasn’t going to fight him on this. She wasn’t going to stop him.

Rand took a step toward the darkness, toward the unknown, but Elyndria’s body reacted before her mind had fully caught up. She was on her feet in an instant, her breath unsteady but her voice unwavering.

“I’m coming with you.”

He stopped. Slowly, he turned back. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker there—a silent plea, a warning, a refusal.

“No,” he said immediately. “It’s too dangerous.”

Elyndria crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I don’t care.”

His expression tightened, frustration evident in the slight clench of his jaw. “Elyndria, you have to stay with Moiraine—”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she snapped, stepping forward. The words came sharp, fueled by something raw and unwavering inside her. “And I won’t let you go alone.”

Rand exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

“You’re not asking,” Elyndria shot back. “I’m telling you.”

She could feel the pulse of her own heartbeat in her temples, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. This wasn’t just a choice. It was a stand. A declaration. Her path had never felt clearer.

“I’ve seen what happens to men who channel,” she continued, lowering her voice. Her throat tightened as memories surfaced, of Logain, of the haunted, broken look in his eyes, of the way he had been stripped of everything he was. “Not just read about it. I saw Logain. I saw what it did to him. And I won’t let that happen to you.”

Rand’s breath hitched, his gaze searching hers. A moment of silence stretched between them, weighted with things neither of them could put into words.

“I can help you,” she said, softer now, but no less determined. “Guide you. Maybe I can help you fight against it.”

Rand’s fingers flexed at his sides. She could see the war in his expression, the battle between what he wanted and what he believed was right. He didn’t want her to do this. He didn’t want to drag her into whatever path lay ahead. But he also couldn’t find the words to deny her.

“I won’t turn my back on you,” Elyndria said, the weight of her own conviction settling into her bones. “Even if it means going against the oaths. Against the Tower. I will not go against my own morals.”

Rand swallowed. His throat worked around an unspoken thought, his hands balling into fists at his sides before finally—finally—he exhaled.

“You’re stubborn,” he muttered.

Elyndria felt a wry smile tug at the corner of her lips. “And you’re just figuring that out now?”

Rand let out a quiet, breathy chuckle, but it faded quickly, replaced by something more somber.

“Alright,” he said at last. “But if you come with me, you have to understand… there may not be a way back.”

Elyndria squared her shoulders. The decision had already been made. The path had already been chosen. She would walk it with him, no matter the cost.

“I understand.”

Rand studied her one last time, as if trying to find some crack in her resolve. He found none.

He nodded, and for the first time since this conversation began, she thought she saw something else in his eyes. Not just acceptance. Not just reluctance.

Gratitude.

“Let’s go,” he said.

As Rand turned away, his steps already leading him toward the unknown, Elyndria hesitated. The weight of her decision pressed down on her, a thousand thoughts crashing over each other like waves in a storm. Once she followed him, there would be no going back. No safety of the Tower. No certainty. Just the road ahead; dark, treacherous, and utterly without guarantees.

Her heart pounded as she turned back to Moiraine. The Aes Sedai stood stiffly, her face schooled into impassivity, but Elyndria saw the tension in her jaw, the tightness in her shoulders. Moiraine knew she couldn’t stop her. Elyndria knew it too. But that didn’t make the moment any easier.

“I have to do this,” Elyndria said quietly, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.

Moiraine studied her, the weight of experience behind her sharp gaze. A long exhale left her lips, and for the first time, Elyndria saw something close to acceptance in her expression. Not approval, no, Moiraine would never approve, but an understanding of the choice Elyndria had already made in her heart.

“She will hate me for not bringing you back,” Moiraine murmured. “Saerel.”

The name was a stone dropped into Elyndria’s chest, the ripples of guilt immediate. Saerel; her mentor, her guide, the woman who had shaped her into the Aes Sedai she had become. The one person whose trust she had never doubted, whose expectations she had always met. Until now.

“Tell her I’m sorry,” Elyndria said, her voice softer now, though no less firm. “Sorry for not coming back. But I can’t just leave Rand.” She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Moiraine’s piercing gaze. “It feels wrong. I have to help him, in any way I can.”

She expected Moiraine to argue. To insist that this path led only to pain and destruction, that Rand was already beyond saving. But Moiraine only nodded, slowly, her expression unreadable.

Then, she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“If he loses control, Elyndria, it will be up to you.”

Elyndria’s breath hitched, but she cut her off before she could say anything more.

“I know.”

And Light, she did. The weight of those words settled in her chest like lead. If Rand fell to the madness, if he became something terrible, something beyond redemption—she would be the one who had to stop him.

The thought made her stomach twist, her hands trembling at her sides. Could she do it? If it came down to it, could she truly strike him down?

A memory flickered to life—Logain in his cage, the haunted look in his eyes. The way his laughter had echoed with something broken, something lost. And now, she was placing herself at Rand’s side, knowing full well she might have to be the one to end him.

But.

“Only if it comes down to it, Moiraine,” Elyndria said, her voice firm, stronger than she felt. “I will give him the chance to live his life.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Unlike you, who would have ended it without even knowing whether he would choose the Light or the Dark.”

Moiraine did not flinch at the accusation. She only nodded. Once. A silent acknowledgment.

Elyndria turned away before she could second-guess herself.

Her feet carried her toward Rand, her steps light but sure. The darkness ahead was vast, unknown, and terrifying, but she would not let fear stop her. She would not let doubt keep her from doing what she knew in her heart was right.

Rand glanced at her as she caught up, his expression unreadable. There was a question in his eyes, unspoken but understood. Why? Why was she doing this? Why was she willing to throw away everything for him?

But Elyndria didn’t need words. And neither did he.

Not now.

Not for this.

Together, they stepped into the unknown.

Chapter 13: The Beginning of a Journey

Together, they stepped into the unknown.

As they made their way away from Fal Dara, the weight of their decision pressed down on both of them. The air around them seemed colder, and the path ahead stretched out longer than either of them wanted to acknowledge.

Rand's eyes, usually so determined, were clouded with a quiet, conflicted longing.

They walked in silence for some time, the only sound the crunch of their boots on the earth and the distant howls of the Blight. Neither of them spoke for a while, the tension between them palpable, but unspoken.

Elyndria, her mind swirling with thoughts of her time in the White Tower, broke the silence first.

Her voice, quiet but firm, held a note of resolve as she asked, “Rand... do you want to go back? Just to see if your friends are alright?”

Rand’s steps faltered, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. He paused, his gaze distant as if he could still feel the pull of the life he had left behind, the bonds of friendship and family that had shaped him. The longing was evident in the tense line of his jaw, but just as quickly, a hardened determination flickered in his eyes, like the flame of a dying fire that refused to go out.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice quiet, yet certain. “They’re strong. They’ll be okay. I have to believe in that.” He clenched his fists at his sides, the muscles in his back taut with the weight of his resolve. “If they see me, they won’t let me leave. I’ll be putting them in danger. And I can’t do that to them.” His voice trailed off, as if the words themselves were too heavy to carry.

They continued walking in silence, the earth beneath their feet hard and unyielding.

Elyndria’s thoughts, however, were far from the ground beneath her boots. She thought of the White Tower, of Saerel—the mentor who had shaped her into the Aes Sedai she was today—and Alanna, her Green sisters, and the bonds she had forged there. She would miss them deeply. They had been her family, her guide, her protection, and yet, the instinct to stay with Rand, to protect him, burned fiercely in her chest. The Green in her; the warrior, the protector, drove her forward.

She sighed softly, the sound almost lost to the wind. “I will miss my family too,” she said, her voice laced with a quiet sadness.

Rand turned to her as if to speak, but Elyndria cut him off before he could.

“They were your family, as well as your friends,” she added, her words deliberate but full of sincerity. “We may not know each other well yet, but I would like to become your friend.” Her gaze softened as she looked at him, her eyes meeting his with an openness that had never been there before.

Rand’s expression shifted, just for a moment, a brief flicker of something almost tender in his eyes before it was replaced by the familiar hardness of determination. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. He nodded, the motion slow and thoughtful, as if processing what she had said.

“I think I’d like that too,” he murmured, his voice softening just a fraction.

The silence between them grew comfortable, a delicate kind of peace settling in as they walked side by side.

After a while, Rand broke the stillness with a question. His voice was a little lighter now, the weight of their journey momentarily lifted by the simple act of speaking to her.

“Where do you think we should go? Any ideas?” he asked, a faint trace of uncertainty in his tone, as though even after everything, he was still searching for some kind of direction in the chaos of his life.

Elyndria thought for a moment, her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to focus on the road ahead, not just the physical path beneath their feet, but the one that stretched out in the distance. An uncertain future.

“Cairhien, possibly,” she said slowly. “It’ll take weeks on foot, but the more distance we put between us and the Blight, the better. People won’t recognize us there, and there are villages along the way. We can buy supplies, get new clothing. I stand out in these green robes,” she said, gesturing down at her Aes Sedai clothing, the familiar fabric of her past that now seemed so out of place in the world she was choosing to walk in. The weight of her decision to leave it behind was sharp, but necessary. She couldn’t cling to her old life now. “It will be disheartening, but we’ll have to.”

Rand frowned, his gaze flicking down at his own simple clothes, then back to her. “I carry no money on me,” he admitted, his voice rough.

Elyndria nodded, reaching into the folds of her cloak.

“I do,” she said quietly. “Enough for supplies to get us to Cairhien, but we’ll have to sleep rough in the wild. My money won’t last long if we stay in inns.” She met his gaze steadily, knowing he wouldn’t like the idea of her paying for everything. But it was the only option.

Rand hesitated, his expression torn. He glanced at her for a long moment, as if trying to measure her resolve.

“I don’t like taking your money,” he muttered. “But… I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

Elyndria offered him a soft smile, one that held no trace of judgment or expectation.

“I know you will,” she said. There was a quiet understanding between them now, a recognition of their shared burden, their shared determination.

As they continued walking, the miles ahead stretching out like an endless ribbon of uncertainty, Elyndria couldn’t help but feel a strange kind of peace settle in her heart.

There was no turning back now. She had left behind everything she had known, everything that had defined her, and now, the road was wide open, full of possibility but also fraught with danger.

Still, with Rand by her side she felt something stir deep inside her. Something she hadn’t felt since coming on this mission: hope. Hope that no matter what happened, they would face it together. And that, for the first time, felt like enough.

As the last light of the day slipped behind the horizon, they arrived at the small village nestled between rolling hills and dense thickets.

The air was thick with the scent of fresh bread and the sounds of village life, a sharp contrast to the unsettling quiet of the Blight they had left behind.

Elyndria kept her hood pulled low, her robes drawing wary glances from the locals as they passed by. She could feel their eyes on her, suspicion mingled with awe, recognising her for what she was: an Aes Sedai.

Rand kept his head down, trying to avoid drawing attention, though the tension in his posture revealed his discomfort. They made their way to the market, where they gathered supplies. Two simple canvas bags, a few changes of clothes, blankets, enough bread and cold cuts of meat to last them for a while, and dried berries to see them through the next leg of their journey.

Elyndria’s money, though limited, would be enough to get them to the next village, but beyond that... they would have to rely on their wits and whatever they could gather from the wild. Still, she couldn’t dwell on the future now; it was all she could do to focus on getting through the present.

Her eyes caught sight of a stall with plump, juicy red apples, their skin glistening in the fading sunlight. Rand’s gaze lingered on them, and without thinking, Elyndria moved toward the vendor. She exchanged a few coins for the ripest apple she could find, turning back toward him.

“You’ve been eyeing them,” she said with a small, teasing smile, holding the apple out to him.

Rand’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at the fruit, then back at her, uncertainty flashing across his face. “I—I can’t take that, Elyndria,” he stammered.

Elyndria shook her head firmly, not allowing him to insist. “It’s just an apple, Rand. You’ve earned it.”

His brows furrowed, and with a reluctant sigh, he took the apple from her. After a long pause, he drew his blade from his back, using it to slice the fruit in half with practiced ease.

He held out the other half to her, his expression firm, almost defiant. “I’m not taking charity. But... I’ll share it with you.”

Elyndria chuckled softly, the stubbornness in his voice bringing a touch of warmth to her heart. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Rand didn’t answer immediately, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes; something deeper than just stubborn pride. Gratitude, maybe. Or perhaps a quiet bond beginning to form. He took his half of the apple, biting into it with a quiet, contented satisfaction. As they finished gathering their things, the light began to fade quickly, the first hint of twilight spreading across the sky.

They didn’t linger long, knowing they had to keep moving. The village was a brief stop, just enough to get what they needed for the journey ahead.

By the time they left the village, the sky had deepened into shades of violet and indigo, the stars beginning to twinkle faintly overhead. They made their way toward a thicket of trees on the outskirts, a quiet spot that would offer shelter for the night.

The ground beneath their feet was soft with fallen leaves, and the air had a cool bite to it, though the fire they planned to start would ward off the chill. Rand moved off into the woods to gather firewood, his silhouette disappearing into the darkening trees. Elyndria’s hands paused as she watched him, a faint smile curling on her lips.

Despite all they had been through, he was still able to take charge of small, everyday tasks. It was oddly reassuring. It wasn’t long before he returned, a small bundle of dry branches in his arms. He set them down with practiced ease, then knelt by the kindling.

Elyndria watched, curious, as he began to work with his hands, setting the sticks into a neat pile.

“Do you have a flint?” she asked, her voice laced with quiet surprise. She was prepared to channel to get a fire starting since she suspected he had nothing on him to help start a fire.

Rand shook his head, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “No flint. But... I know a trick or two.”

With that, he struck his blade against the stone, sparks flying from the metal, catching the dry wood. Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat, amazed at his skill. The fire caught quickly, and soon a small flame flickered to life, casting warm shadows on their faces.

“You know how to start a fire?” she asked, her voice soft, a note of wonder lacing her words.

Rand shrugged, wiping his hands on his trousers. “My father used to take me camping when I was younger. Taught me how to hunt, how to make a fire, how to survive. It was always a good skill to have.”

Elyndria nodded, impressed. “A very good skill to have, indeed.”

The fire crackled and grew, its warmth pushing back the evening’s chill.

Rand sat back, glancing at her as he stretched his legs out in front of him. “We didn’t have much growing up, but my father always made sure I could take care of myself.”

Elyndria could hear the quiet pride in his voice, even though the memories were obviously bittersweet. She chose not to speak, giving him the space he needed to collect his thoughts.

The crackling of the fire filled the silence between them as they sat side by side, their shared silence more comforting than words.

After a few moments, Elyndria took out the cold sandwiches she’d prepared earlier, handing one to Rand.

“I know it’s not much,” she said, her tone sheepish, “but it’ll fill you up.”

Rand took it eagerly, biting into the bread with the kind of hunger that had been gnawing at him for the past few hours. His eyes closed for a moment in pure satisfaction.

“Delicious,” he said through a mouthful, his voice thick with appreciation. He looked at her then, contentment settling on his face as he continued to eat.

Elyndria smiled softly, watching him.

In that moment, despite the uncertainty of the road ahead, she felt a quiet sense of peace. For the first time in days, the weight of their journey didn’t seem so heavy. The fire crackled and popped, sending small sparks into the air as they sat quietly beside it.

The night was growing deeper, the cool air settling around them like a blanket, but the warmth from the fire and each other’s company made it bearable.

Rand stretched his legs out and leaned back slightly, his gaze flickering between the flames and Elyndria, who sat across from him, her face softened by the orange glow.

After a few moments of silence, Rand broke it with a quiet chuckle.

“I used to go fishing with my father and friends back in the Two Rivers,” he said, a faraway look in his eyes. “We’d spend hours at the riverbank, talking, joking around. It wasn’t just about catching fish, though. It was about the time spent together, you know?”

Elyndria nodded, watching him closely as his words seemed to stir up memories. “I understand,” she replied softly. “It’s about the bonds you form. I never learned to fish.”

Rand’s lips quirked upward, the warmth of the fire dancing in his eyes. “You didn’t miss much,” he said, “except for some good laughs. You ever spend time in a tavern?”

Elyndria raised an eyebrow at the question. “A tavern?”

Rand grinned, “Yeah, you know, with Perrin and Mat. We’d go there sometimes, drink, talk, listen to music. You know how it goes.” His voice dropped slightly at the mention of their names, and for a moment, Elyndria saw something flicker in his eyes; a fleeting sadness, perhaps. But it was quickly gone as he continued. “I only got drunk once,” Rand continued with a smirk. “It was a disaster. Stumbled home late one night, loud as can be. My father... well, he wasn’t happy. I ended up throwing up all over his shoes.” He chuckled at the memory, shaking his head. “Got a good hiding for that, but it was worth it.”

Elyndria laughed softly, “I can’t imagine that happening to you,” she teased. “But I’ve never gotten drunk.”

Rand blinked, surprised. “You never...?”

Elyndria smiled, shaking her head.

“I’ve never had the desire to drink. It’s actually looked down upon in the White Tower. Not that people don’t drink in private, but I’ve never tried it myself.” She met his gaze, an almost sheepish look in her eyes. “Guess it’s just not something I’m interested in.”

Rand raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Well, I’ll make it a point to get you to try it someday,” he said with a grin. “You can’t say no forever.”

Elyndria laughed, the sound light and free. “We’ll see about that, Rand. But it’s not something I need to try right now.”

Rand’s grin widened, but he didn’t push the subject any further. Instead, he leaned back and looked at the stars above them. “What about you, Elyndria? What did you enjoy doing in the White Tower?”

She looked up at the night sky for a moment, her thoughts drifting back to her life there.

“I used to love gardening,” she said after a moment, her voice soft with nostalgia. “The gardens in the Tower were beautiful, peaceful. I spent a lot of time there, tending to the plants and flowers. I found it calming, you know?”

Rand nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds nice. I didn’t think about Aes Sedai liking things like that.”

Elyndria smiled at him, her eyes warm. “We’re not all rigid and focused on power, Rand. Some of us enjoy simpler things.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way,” Rand admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“I also enjoyed reading stories,” Elyndria continued, a twinkle in her eyes. “Stories of faraway lands, people I’d never meet. It was always an escape for me. And swimming...”

Rand raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Swimming?”

“Yes.” Elyndria laughed softly. “There’s a river near the city of Tar Valon. When I was six, some of the servants showed me how to swim. I loved it from the very first moment. There’s something about being in the water that feels freeing. I still swim sometimes, when I get the chance.”

“That’s something I didn’t expect,” Rand said, his tone light. “But I think I get it. It’s nice to have something to do just for the sake of it.”

“Exactly,” Elyndria agreed, smiling. “It’s about finding those small things that bring you peace.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the fire slowly burn down to embers. The night grew colder, and the stars above twinkled like distant jewels. The world outside the small circle of firelight felt far away, distant and quiet.

Eventually, Elyndria sighed and stretched her arms above her head. “We should probably get some sleep. It’s going to be a long journey to the next village. At least a week on foot.”

Rand yawned, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. “You’re right,” he agreed, rubbing his face. “A week... It’ll be hard, but we’ll manage.”

Elyndria stood and helped put out the fire, leaving only a faint glow from the embers. The night was growing colder, and they needed rest.

As they settled down beside each other, the warmth of the fire lingered in the air. Elyndria lay down, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders, and glanced at Rand, who was already settled beside her.

They were close, but not too close, and the quiet of the forest wrapped around them like a protective blanket. The night grew even quieter as they Rand drifted off to sleep, the stars above watching over them. The fire had died to a gentle glow, and the forest around them was silent except for the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Elyndria lay on her blanket, the soft rustling of leaves in the wind the only sound that surrounded them. The fire had burned down to embers, casting a faint glow that flickered and danced in the darkness. The warmth from the fire still lingered, but it was quickly replaced by the cool night air that seeped into her cloak.

She pulled it tighter around herself, the soft wool brushing against her skin, and sighed, letting the quiet of the night settle over her.

As she lay there, her thoughts wandered; back to the White Tower, to the life she had left behind.

It felt like a lifetime ago now.

The Tower, the structure that had once been her world, was nothing but a distant memory. The familiar faces of the Aes Sedai, the bustling halls, the endless lessons and rituals, they all felt so far removed from where she was now. And yet, she had chosen this. Chosen to walk away from the life she knew, to take this uncertain journey with Rand.

There was a weight in her chest, a quiet ache that had been there ever since they’d left the Tower behind. She missed her sisters, the ones she’d trained alongside, the ones who had become family in their own way.

But there was something else, something deeper; an unspoken pull to stay by Rand’s side. She wasn’t sure what it was, exactly.

Was it the Green in her, the need to protect?

Or was it something more?

Maybe it was simply that she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone, after everything they had both endured.

She glanced over at him, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the embers. He was lying on his own blanket, though not far from her, his face relaxed in sleep. His breathing was steady, though there was a faint tension in his posture, as if he couldn’t quite relax fully.

She understood that feeling.

How could either of them fully relax, knowing what lay ahead?

The Blight, the dangers they had faced and would continue to face. It all weighed heavily on them. But for the moment, they were safe. For the moment, they had each other.

Elyndria’s heart stirred.

She had always known the power of connection, but she hadn’t expected it to feel like this; not in such a quiet, simple way. It was easy to mistake the bond between them for something born out of necessity, something formed in the heat of survival. But in the stillness of the night, as she lay there listening to the wind, she realized that it was more than that.

There was something genuine, something real between them. It was strange, really. How quickly she had come to trust him, despite knowing so little about him.

And yet, she could feel the weight of the past on his shoulders, the quiet pain that lingered in his eyes whenever he spoke of his friends or his family. She had seen it in his gaze when he mentioned Perrin and Mat, regret, perhaps, or longing. There was so much he hadn’t said, but it was clear that his past was as complicated and heavy as her own.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze softening as she watched him sleep. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same man who had faced down the horrors of the Blight, who had stood against creatures born of nightmares. Here he was, a young man—no, a boy, really—carrying burdens no one should have to bear. And yet, he did it with such quiet strength. There was something in him that reminded her of the best of the Aes Sedai; stoic, determined, willing to sacrifice for the greater good.

It made her heart swell with something she couldn’t quite name. Perhaps it was pride, or perhaps... something deeper.

She felt a sudden rush of protectiveness.

She had come to care for him, not just as a companion, not just as someone she needed to watch over for safety’s sake. There was more to it than that. She wanted him to succeed. She wanted him to find peace, to be able to carry the weight of the world without breaking. Her thoughts drifted back to their conversation earlier.

The warmth in her chest deepened at the memory of his words about his father, of the way he spoke about his childhood. Rand, the quiet farm boy turned reluctant hero. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his clumsy attempt at drinking, his first (and likely last) drunken stumble into his father’s house. She could picture it clearly; the boy, young and full of life, not yet burdened with the weight of destiny. It was an image she wanted to hold on to, the image of someone who could laugh, who could enjoy life despite the hardships.

And then, his promise.

“I’ll make sure you try it someday,” he had said, about the drinking. Elyndria hadn’t known how to respond at the time, but now, as she lay in the dark, the promise echoed in her mind. It was a strange thing to make a promise like that, especially to someone like her. An Aes Sedai, trained to be cautious, reserved, even distant. And yet, in a way, it made her feel... lighter.

It was an odd feeling, this small act of rebellion against the rules and expectations she had been taught her whole life. Maybe she would let him keep that promise someday.

Maybe she would try it, just for the sake of it, just to see what it felt like to truly let go.

She sighed softly, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as the chill of the night pressed in. The sound of Rand’s breathing was a quiet, steady rhythm beside her, a reminder that they weren’t alone in this anymore. They had each other, even if the road ahead was uncertain. She knew the path would be long, and it would be hard, but perhaps they could find some kind of solace in each other’s company.

Eventually, the weight of exhaustion settled over her. She closed her eyes, the images of the Tower, of Tar Valon, of the distant lands she had read about, fading into the quiet blackness of sleep.

Tomorrow would bring more challenges. But for now, in this moment, she allowed herself to rest, feeling the warmth of the fire's dying glow and the presence of Rand beside her. It was the first peaceful night she had had in a long time. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough for now.

"Goodnight, Rand," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible against the rustle of the trees.

No answer came, but she didn’t need one. She knew he was there, just as she was there for him.

And for tonight, that was enough.

---

The next morning came all too quickly, with the first light of dawn filtering through the trees.

Elyndria woke to the soft rustling of leaves and the sound of birds chirping in the distance. She stretched, feeling the familiar ache in her limbs from the previous day’s travel, but there was a new sense of quiet strength within her. The journey ahead might be long and uncertain, but at least they would face it together.

Rand was already awake, his back to her as he tended to the fire. She could see the way his muscles flexed as he moved, the steady, focused energy he always carried with him. His hair was still damp from the morning dew, his face calm, though she knew there were thoughts hidden beneath that quiet exterior. Thoughts about the Blight. About his friends. About his future.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes as she watched him work, a quiet moment of understanding passing between them. She didn’t have to ask how he was feeling. She could see it in the way his shoulders were tense, the way he kept his gaze fixed ahead, almost as if the world around him was something he couldn’t quite touch yet.

“Good morning,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

Rand turned, offering her a small, sleepy smile. “Morning. Sleep well?”

Elyndria nodded, though she didn’t mention the strange sense of peace she’d felt the night before. She wasn’t sure how to explain it, but maybe it was enough just to have the words between them.

“I did, thank you. How about you?”

Rand shrugged, the smile never quite leaving his face.

“As well as I can, I guess. It was nice.” He hesitated for a moment. “We’ll make it through, won’t we?”

Elyndria didn’t hesitate. “We will. One step at a time.”

After sharing a handful of dried berries, Elyndria suggested that they change into fresh clothes before continuing their journey.

The morning had settled into a quiet rhythm, and withtheir camp packed, there was no reason to stay in the same clothes for another day of travel. They needed to blend in with the rest of the world as much as possible.

“Let’s split up for a moment,” Elyndria said, nodding toward the trees. “I’ll change over there.”

Rand nodded without saying a word and moved off in the opposite direction, leaving Elyndria alone to change. She pulled off her Aes Sedai robes and set them down on the soft earth, looking at them for a moment. There was something so final in that motion. That she was leaving behind more than just the clothing. She was leaving behind the life she had known, the comfort and structure of the White Tower.

She took a deep breath and shook the thought away.

There was no room for sentiment now. The world was changing faster than she could comprehend, and she needed to be prepared to face it. The clothes she had purchased in the village were unlike anything she had ever worn. They were simple, practical; a pair of pants and a lightweight dress in soft shades of purple. It felt... strange. She had never worn purple before. It was so far removed from the deep greens of the Aes Sedai robes that it felt as though she was shedding her identity.

But what other choice did she have?

She glanced down at the Great Serpent Ring, the symbol of her connection to the Aes Sedai. Her fingers traced its curves absentmindedly as she stood there. The ring had always been a symbol of everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed. Taking it off felt like letting go of the last part of her old life.

With a sigh, she tugged the ring from her finger, her heart heavy. She stared at it for a moment before slipping it into the pocket of her dress. Hidden but safe. She wasn’t ready to be without it completely, but for now, it had to be tucked away.

She quickly gathered up the robes, folding them carefully before returning to the fire.

When she came back into view, Rand was already waiting for her. His gaze snapped to her immediately, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He simply stared, his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t quite believe the change.

Elyndria felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. She fidgeted uncomfortably, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"What?" she asked, trying to hide the uncertainty in her voice. "Do I look that awful?"

Rand stammered, clearly caught off guard by the question.

"No—no, not at all. Just... different." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "But not in a bad way. It’s nice. I mean to say, you look nice."

Elyndria smiled softly at his awkwardness, her face warming further. "Thank you," she said quietly, the words feeling heavier than they should. She hadn’t expected his compliment to settle into her chest like this, but it did. It was a small, simple thing, but it meant something.

She looked down at the Aes Sedai robes in her hands, her smile fading. The weight of the fabric, of what they represented, pressed down on her.

Slowly, she clenched the clothes tightly in her hands, her fingers digging into the material as a sharp thought flitted through her mind. She couldn’t keep these. They couldn’t travel with her. Without another word, she walked toward the fire and threw the robes into the flames. The fabric caught almost instantly, curling and blackening as it burned away.

Rand’s eyes went wide. "What are you doing?"

Elyndria didn’t look back, but her voice was firm. "There can be no evidence of me being Aes Sedai on this journey. People will talk. They’ll get curious, and they’ll wonder why an Aes Sedai is traveling so far from the White Tower by herself." She paused, the firelight flickering in her eyes. "We do not want word of me traveling reaching the White Tower."

Rand’s gaze shifted between the robes as they burned and her face. The understanding in his eyes was slow to form, but it was there.

He nodded slowly, his expression softening. "I see."

She watched the flames consume the robes, the last remnants of her former life turning to ash. When it was over, she exhaled sharply, as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. There would be no more looking back. No more hiding behind the veil of the Tower. It was just them now, nothing to hide behind but each other.

After a long moment, Rand cleared his throat and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

Elyndria nodded, her heart pounding as she turned away from the fire.

"Yes. Let’s go."

They left their camp behind, the remnants of their pasts still smoldering in the fire. They set off, side by side, into the wild unknown, with nothing but their wits and the clothes on their backs. As they made their way through the dense forest, the air was thick with the scent of pine and earth.

The path was narrow, winding between thick trunks of trees, their branches arching above to create a canopy of green that filtered the sunlight into patches of soft golden light. The journey ahead was long, and the weight of the previous days seemed to settle heavily on Elyndria’s shoulders.

It was hard to focus on the road ahead when her mind kept returning to the events of the last few days. The fire had consumed her Aes Sedai robes, the only identity she had known for so long. A part of her had died with those clothes, the comfort of the familiar slipping through her fingers like sand. And the ring was now hidden away, tucked safely in her pocket, but out of sight, out of mind.

Elyndria couldn’t help but fidget with the fabric of her dress as she walked, her fingers brushing over the pocket where the ring lay. It felt wrong. Like she was living in some other life that didn’t belong to her.

She glanced over at Rand, walking beside her, and caught the faintest glance of something softer in his expression. He had been quiet after the burning of her robes, and for a long while, they had walked in companionable silence.

Still, Elyndria felt the weight of his presence, the shared burden between them, though neither of them had spoken about it. What had happened to them in the last few days could never be erased.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Rand spoke, his voice breaking the silence. “Do you miss it?” he asked quietly, his eyes focused on the path ahead, but his question clearly directed at her.

“Miss what?” Elyndria asked, not quite sure what he meant.

“Being an Aes Sedai at the White Tower.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I know it’s all you've known, but... after everything that’s happened, do you miss it?”

Elyndria’s heart tightened at his question. She had expected him to ask something like this eventually, but hearing it now, when they were so far from everything she had ever known, made it feel more real. More raw.

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before answering.

“I don’t know how i feel,” she confessed. “There’s a part of me that does. The Tower, the training, the sisters I left behind... it gave me purpose. It gave me a place. But there’s another part of me that feels... free. For the first time in my life, I’m not defined by my title or the expectations of others. I’m not bound by the rules of the Tower.” She paused, glancing at him. “But it’s strange. I never thought I would feel this way. And yet, here I am, walking away from everything I’ve known.”

Elyndria sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on her. "I wonder if I’ll ever go back," she admitted softly, though the thought unsettled her. "To the Tower. To my sisters. To... everything I left behind." She paused, biting her lip. “I miss them. I miss the Green Ajah. I miss Saerel, my mentor. She trained me from the time I was twelve. I—" Her voice faltered, and she quickly looked away, her hand instinctively tightening around the pocket where the ring rested. "I hope they forgive me, Rand."

Rand glanced at her, his gaze softer than before, as if understanding the weight of her words. He slowed his pace just slightly, the sound of his boots crunching on the forest floor becoming quieter in the stillness between them.

"I don't think they would hold it against you," Rand said quietly, his voice steady, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper in it. "Saerel, your sisters... they know you. They know what you stand for. What you’ve given up. People like that don't just turn their backs on someone. Not when they've been through what you've been through."

Elyndria shook her head, a sad, fleeting smile touching her lips.

"You don't understand," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn’t just an Accepted. I was part of the Green Ajah. I was training to fight, to protect. I was... someone they trusted. And now, I’ve walked away from all of it. No explanation, no justification. It feels like betrayal."

Rand’s gaze softened, his footsteps slowing just slightly as he watched Elyndria with an intensity that made the weight of her words seem more profound.

“You can go back, you know,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “I just... I want you to know you have a choice. You’re not stuck with me because you have no other options. You could go back, Elyndria. The Tower’s still there. Your sisters are still there. They would welcome you back.”

Elyndria’s heart clenched at the thought, but she shook her head, almost vehemently.

“No,” she murmured, voice trembling slightly. “If I went back now, it would be like admitting that everything I’ve done, everything I’ve walked away from, was a lie. I made my oath, Rand. I swore to help you.” Her eyes locked onto his, her voice steadying with each word. “I won’t turn my back on it. I won’t.”

Rand didn’t respond right away, but the silence between them was filled with an understanding that neither of them could quite express. Elyndria felt the weight of his gaze, the pressure of his unspoken thoughts, but also a sense of quiet acceptance in the way he was watching her.

There was no judgment there, just a quiet recognition of the struggle she was facing.

Rand took a deep breath, breaking the silence, his voice quieter than usual, laden with sincerity. “Thank you for coming with me, Elyndria,” he said, his words heavier than he intended, as though each one was a burden that he didn’t know how to express. “I know how hard this has been for you... I can see it in your eyes. The way this has affected you. And yet, you’re still here. You’re still with me.”

Elyndria blinked, surprised by the weight of his words, but she said nothing, simply meeting his gaze, her heart unexpectedly swelling with emotion. It was difficult to put into words, the strange mixture of gratitude and guilt she felt, but his next words caught her off guard.

“I was... scared to make this journey alone.” Rand’s voice softened as he spoke, his gaze focused ahead, as if the confession wasn’t easy for him. “Terrified, actually. I don’t know what I’m doing, Elyndria. I didn’t even know if I could make it through. But now, with you here... I don’t feel so terrified. I don’t feel quite so daunted. I know we still have a long way to go, but having you with me, it feels like I can face whatever comes. Like... like we might actually stand a chance.”

Elyndria felt something tighten in her chest at his words, the vulnerability in his voice not lost on her. He always seemed strong, so determined, and yet here he was, admitting to his own fears. It was a rare glimpse into the man he was, and it stirred something in her.

“I’m glad I’m here, Rand,” she said softly, her voice steady but full of quiet understanding. “I can’t pretend it’s been easy, but I made my choice. And I... I believe in it. I believe in helping you, in standing by you. And I think that makes all the difference.”

He glanced at her then, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles, though there was still something intense in his expression. “I will never forget this, Elyndria. Never,” he said, his words coming out more quietly, almost as if they were too personal to say aloud

For a long moment, they simply walked side by side, the steady rhythm of their steps accompanying the sounds of the forest around them. The world felt quieter in that moment, as though the weight of their shared understanding had lifted some of the burden they both carried.

---

 

The journey to the next village had been a steady one, and by the time they reached their destination, Elyndria was beginning to feel a strange sense of accomplishment. She had found herself more at ease with the rhythm of their days, the small tasks of their survival feeling grounding in ways she hadn’t expected.

Rand had proven to be a skilled hunter. He’d set traps each night, and by the time they woke up in the morning, they would sometimes have rabbits and birds which he carefully cleaned and prepared for their meals.

Elyndria, in turn, had taken to foraging, carefully searching for edible berries and mushrooms that grew in the forest around them. When they made their camp each evening, they would combine their findings and make hearty stews over the fire, the savory scent filling the air and warming them against the cool evening chill.

The food was simple, but it was more than enough. It made them feel connected, content.

As they sat by their campfire on one such night, Elyndria stirred their pot of stew, her eyes flicking up to the stars above them. The flickering firelight illuminated their faces, and Rand was lost in his thoughts for a moment.

She could see the weariness in his features, the quiet exhaustion from the travel, but there was also something more—something lighter in him, too. The journey had not been easy, but it had done something to them, something unspoken, that made the air between them feel comfortable in ways it hadn’t before.

"I never thought I'd be doing this," Elyndria said after a while, breaking the quiet.

Rand glanced up, eyes lighting with curiosity. "Doing what?"

"Living like this," she explained with a small smile. "Out here, without all the rules, without all the... structure of the Tower. It’s different. It’s not easy, but it feels... honest."

He chuckled softly. "I suppose I never imagined myself out here either. Hunting my own meals, making my own way." He paused, looking at her more closely. "But there's something about it, isn’t there? Something that... I don't know, feels real. I guess we’re both learning as we go."

Elyndria nodded slowly, her gaze drifting back to the fire. “It’s strange, though. I never thought I’d enjoy it. I never thought I’d feel free like this." Her voice was quiet, thoughtful. "But I do. I never realized how much I was defined by the Tower until I stepped away from it."

Rand watched her, his eyes softer than before. “It sounds like you’re finding something you didn’t even know you were missing.”

“I guess I am,” Elyndria agreed, her tone thoughtful. "I’ve been so wrapped up in what I thought I should be... But here, with you, I don’t have to be anything other than... myself. No expectations, no titles. Just... me.”

Rand smiled then, his gaze thoughtful as he took a deep breath. “You’re pretty good at being yourself, Elyndria.” There was an easy warmth to his words, a sincerity that made her heart skip a beat.

She met his gaze, her heart fluttering just a bit, but she didn’t let herself look away. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”

They fell into a comfortable silence then, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the fire crackled between them. The warmth of it wrapped around them like a blanket, and for the first time in a long while, Elyndria felt content.

The next day, they continued their journey, the path winding through the countryside as the days grew steadily warmer. When they reached the village, Elyndria took the opportunity to restock their supplies. She bought bread, dried fruit, and dried meats, ensuring they would have enough to last them the remainder of the journey to Cairhien.

Rand, ever the protector, kept a watchful eye on their surroundings as Elyndria took care of their business. She didn’t need to ask him for help; she knew he would be there, as he always was. It was becoming second nature.

By the time they left the village, their supplies were heavier but their spirits lighter. The road ahead would still take two more weeks, but the end was finally within sight.

That night, after another long day of travel, they stopped to rest, finding a small clearing where the stars above twinkled brightly. Rand lit the fire, and they ate the dried meats and bread they had purchased.

The warmth of the fire, the crispness of the air, and the hum of nature around them felt comforting in a way Elyndria couldn’t quite explain. They ate in silence for a while, simply enjoying the peacefulness of the night, their quiet camaraderie filling the air between them. The crickets chirped, and the rustling of leaves was a soft backdrop to the quiet flickering of the flames.

Elyndria leaned back against a tree, her body relaxed but her mind still active, thoughts swirling around everything they had shared in the past few days. The journey had been long, and yet she could feel herself growing closer to Rand. Their bond, though still new, was deepening with each passing day, with each shared moment, each conversation.

“You ever think about what happens when we get to Cairhien?” Elyndria asked, her voice breaking the silence.

Rand glanced over at her, his expression thoughtful. “I think about it. But I try not to think too much. We’ll get there, and then we’ll figure out the next step. One day at a time.”

She smiled, feeling comforted by his words. “One day at a time,” she echoed softly.

Rand stretched out beside her, the fire casting flickering shadows over his face. “Exactly. And for tonight, we’ve got this. The stars, the fire, the quiet. It’s enough.”

The fire crackled softly, its warmth casting shadows that danced along the edges of the clearing.

Rand had already fallen asleep as Elyndria stretched out on the ground, her eyes fixed on the stars overhead, but her mind was far from the peaceful silence of the night. Her thoughts swirled with the complexities of the journey, of the strange, growing bond between her and Rand, and the quiet weight of what they were both carrying.

But her musings were interrupted by a rustling sound, faint at first, then growing louder.

Elyndria turned, her gaze narrowing in the dim light, and she noticed Rand thrashing in his sleep. His breath came in sharp gasps, his body twitching and jerking as if he were caught in some unseen struggle. Elyndria’s heart clenched, and she quickly moved over to his side, kneeling beside him.

"Rand," she called gently, her voice barely more than a whisper, but her hand hovered near his shoulder. He didn’t respond, still lost in whatever nightmare held him captive.

She reached out, placing a hand on his arm, giving it a soft shake. "Rand, wake up."

Suddenly, he jerked awake with a start, his eyes wide and filled with fear, sweat beading on his forehead. His chest rose and fell with shallow, panicked breaths, and it took him a moment to realize where he was. His gaze darted around in confusion, the terror still evident in his features.

Elyndria moved quickly, her hand gently grabbing his face to make him focus on her.

"Look at me, Rand," she said, her voice calm but firm. "It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re with me."

His eyes locked onto hers, and for a long moment, he seemed lost in the realization of where he was. His breath slowed, though his face remained pale, his expression haunted.

"I’m sorry," he muttered, voice thick with guilt. "I... I was dreaming, and—" He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare.

"You were having a nightmare," Elyndria said quietly, her voice filled with quiet understanding.

Rand let out a bitter laugh, one that lacked humor. "More like a memory," he muttered, his eyes darkening as he looked away.

Elyndria shifted, sitting back to give him space, though her gaze never left him. She felt the distance growing between them, even though she wanted nothing more than to close that gap, to make him feel safe again.

“What do you mean?" she asked softly, though she already sensed that whatever he was about to say, it was something he hadn’t shared with anyone.

Rand hesitated, running a hand through his hair, the exhaustion on his face making him look older than his years. He was quiet for a long time, as though battling something inside him, unsure if he could trust her with what he was about to reveal.

Finally, his voice broke the silence.

"You never asked what I saw when I passed out," he said, his tone more guarded than before, like the words themselves were laced with something darker.

Elyndria’s brow furrowed in confusion, though she shrugged slightly. "The Dark One can show us many things," she replied with a small, almost absent smile. "It’s not my place to ask you.”

"Moiraine would have," Rand said softly, his voice tinged with something distant, something almost lost in the darkness of his own thoughts. His gaze dropped to the fire, the flickering light casting shadows across his face, revealing the raw edges of his pain.

Elyndria’s expression shifted at his words, a small frown crossing her face. She exhaled slowly, the weight of his comment hanging in the air. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but steady, tinged with a firmness that only came when she was certain of herself.

"I am not Moiraine," Elyndria replied, her words cutting through the tension. Her gaze met his, her eyes unflinching. "I will not push you the way she would have. But I will be here for you. When you're ready to talk, when you're ready to share what’s in your heart... I will listen."

Rand’s fingers twisted in his hair, his gaze distant as if he were seeing something far beyond the flickering flames. "He showed me things," he said slowly, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Things that would tempt me. But it’s not those things that make me have the nightmares. It’s what he said to me."

Elyndria leaned in slightly, her heart aching for him. "What did he say?"

Rand finally met her gaze, and his eyes were full of something raw, something vulnerable.

"Things that a part of me wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Things I was only starting to realize after leaving the Two Rivers." His voice faltered for a moment, and Elyndria saw a flicker of pain flash across his face before he continued. "I realized that my parents weren’t my real parents."

The words hung in the air, sharp and jagged, and Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t anticipated the depths of what Rand had been through.

"My father," Rand continued, his voice low, almost broken. "He found me when I was a baby. He brought me back to the farm. I wasn’t theirs. I never was." His hands balled into fists at his sides, his eyes haunted by the revelation. "And now I... I don’t even know who I am."

Elyndria’s heart broke for him.

She didn’t know what to say, how to ease the pain she could see clearly in his eyes. She reached out, her hand gently touching his arm, offering him the only comfort she could give in this moment.

"You are who you choose to be, Rand," she said quietly, her voice filled with sincerity. "Your past doesn’t define you. You get to choose who you are, who you’ll become. It’s not the blood in your veins, but what you do with your heart that matters."

Rand was silent for a long moment, his face drawn in thought. Finally, he looked up at her and there was a flicker of something like hope in his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice rough with the emotion he didn’t quite know how to express.

Elyndria sat quietly, letting the weight of his words settle over her. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the things he was trying not to say. She knew that feeling. She understood what it was like to have parts of your past feel like it didn’t fit, like they were just pieces of a broken puzzle.

"I understand," she said softly, breaking the silence, her gaze fixed on the fire. "I know what it’s like. To not know who you really are. To feel like you were just... left behind. I was left at the Tower, Rand. No family, no explanations. Just... a child left alone."

Her fingers brushed lightly over the fabric of her dress, and the words came more easily now, as if they had been waiting to be spoken. Rand, hearing this, said nothing for a long while. But there was no need for words. He had known, of course. She had told him before, during a quiet moment shared on their journey. She had told him about how she had been abandoned as a child, left at the White Tower with no explanation, no family to call her own.

Elyndria continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "I spent years wondering why. Wondering who I was, where I came from. But over time, I realized that my past... it doesn’t define who I am." She turned her head to meet his eyes, her gaze unwavering, her expression resolute. "I’m not that girl anymore, Rand. The one searching for answers, for something to hold on to. I’m me. And I’m better for it."

Rand listened, his expression softening as she spoke, the flickering firelight illuminating his features.

“You’re right," he said after a long pause. "It doesn’t define you. But it’s part of your story. Just like my past is part of mine."

Elyndria gave a soft, rueful smile, her eyes glistening with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "It’s part of who I was, but not who I am now. And I’m not going to let it control me anymore."

Rand nodded slowly. "I think I’m starting to understand," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "How you can keep going, even with all the uncertainty, the unknowns. How you can still be... you."

Elyndria smiled, a real smile this time, and her voice was steady when she spoke. "I’m glad you’re starting to understand, Rand. Because no matter what’s happened to us, we’re still here. We’re still moving forward."

Rand’s eyes softened, and he let out a deep breath, the tension easing from his shoulders. "We’re in this together, Elyndria. We’re not alone in this."

The words felt like a promise, simple but profound, and for the first time in a long while, Elyndria felt that the weight of her past was a little lighter. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts but no longer alone with them. The world outside the fire’s glow seemed distant, almost irrelevant, as they both found a moment of peace in the company of someone who understood.

They were both still learning who they were, but now, at least, they were learning it together.

The next morning arrived with a brisk wind that carried the faint scent of rain on the horizon. Elyndria stretched her arms above her head, the warmth of the fire now just a memory in the cool air. Rand was already up, packing their belongings with efficient movements, his face still drawn with the exhaustion of the previous night’s conversation, but there was something lighter in his eyes now.

The tension that had clouded his gaze was lessened, and though neither of them spoke much that morning, the silence felt different, more comfortable.

They ate a simple breakfast; more dried fruit and bread, with the last of the rabbit stew from the night before and prepared for the day ahead. The road to Cairhien was still long, but it was no longer the daunting task it had once seemed. They’d made it this far together, and each mile, each step, had been easier than the last.
By mid-morning, the sun was bright overhead, and the wind had died down to a gentle breeze.

The landscape stretched before them—a mix of rolling hills and dense forests, with the occasional village dotting the horizon. Elyndria kept pace beside Rand, her thoughts wandering as they walked. She was used to the quiet now, to the rhythm of their journey, the way their steps synchronized without either of them having to try. It was strange how quickly they had fallen into this partnership, but it was also... comforting.

The days seemed to blend together in a peaceful monotony: they walked, they talked, and they rested by the campfire at night. Elyndria found herself looking forward to those quiet moments by the fire, where the world seemed to pause, just for them.

She enjoyed the way Rand’s words were more thoughtful now, how the unspoken bond between them was growing with every passing mile. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but there was something about this journey, this shared experience, that had a way of connecting them in ways words never could.

Chapter 14: Crossroads of Fate

As the days passed, their provisions slowly began to dwindle. They had already passed through several small villages, each time restocking what they could. Elyndria had learned to be resourceful, foraging for wild herbs and berries while Rand used his skills to hunt.

He had grown proficient at setting traps and catching small game, and his confidence had started to show in the way he moved through the forests. He wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was thriving.

On the sixth day, they reached a small village where Elyndria purchased more bread, dried fruit, and some dried meats for the journey. The villagers, though curious about their arrival, had little to offer beyond the basics.

As they left the village behind, Elyndria couldn’t help but feel the weight of the journey pressing on her. It wasn’t just the physical distance that was wearing her down; it was the knowledge that they were nearing Cairhien; the city of politics, intrigue, and power.

By the time the sun began to set on the eighth day, they were nearing the last stretch of their journey. They had entered the foothills that led toward the great city, and the air seemed to grow colder as they climbed higher. Rand and Elyndria had fallen into a comfortable silence, their pace steady as they hiked the winding path through the hills.

When they set camp that night, Rand went about lighting the fire with his usual quiet efficiency, and Elyndria found herself preparing their meal with a sense of purpose. As the flames flickered to life and the scent of their simple meal filled the air, there was a sense of finality to the moment.

They were almost there.

Sitting by the fire, Elyndria looked up at the stars once again. They seemed clearer than usual, sharper in the crisp night air. It wasn’t the first time she’d gazed at the stars in silence, but tonight, the sight held a new weight. They were so close to Cairhien now, to whatever lay ahead. The journey had been long, yes, but it had also been... transformative in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

She glanced over at Rand, who was staring into the fire, the flames dancing across his face. There was a new depth in his eyes now, a quiet acceptance that hadn’t been there when they first started. It wasn’t just the world they were about to face that weighed on them. It was the path they had taken to get here, the journey of self-discovery that had begun to unfold between them.

Elyndria leaned back, resting against a rock, her eyes closing briefly as she let the cool night air wash over her.

“We’ll be there soon,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Rand turned to look at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded.

“Yeah. Just a couple more days.”

The fire crackled, and the chirping of crickets filled the air, a peaceful background to their quiet conversation. As the night wore on, the weariness from the day began to settle into their bones, but there was something else there too, an unspoken sense of readiness, of anticipation. Whatever lay ahead in Cairhien, they would face it together.

And that, Elyndria realized as she stared into the fire, was enough.

---

After days of steady travel, Elyndria and Rand finally arrived at Foregate, the sprawling secondary city that lay outside the walls of Cairhien. The town had a different energy than the quiet forests they had passed through. It was bustling with activity, the sound of merchants calling out their wares and the chatter of people filling the air. The buildings were a mix of wooden structures and multi-story homes, each one vying for space in the crowded streets. It felt raw and alive, a sharp contrast to the formality of Cairhien itself.

They made their way through the narrow streets, the scent of fresh bread and spices drifting from the bakeries and shops they passed. The roads were muddy from the recent rain, but there was a vibrancy in the air that made Elyndria feel, if only for a moment, as if they had reached a new chapter in their journey.

The inn they stopped at was modest but inviting. The sign hanging outside swung gently in the breeze, and the warm light spilling from the windows hinted at a cozy interior. The innkeeper, an elderly man with a wide smile and a twinkle in his eye, greeted them warmly as they entered.

“Well, well! Two travelers in need of rest, I assume?” he asked in a cheerful voice, his hands dusted with flour. “Come in, come in, out of the cold! Let me find you a room for you two.”

Elyndria stepped inside, glancing around.

The common room was cozy, the crackling fire in the hearth sending waves of warmth into the room. The smell of stew and bread mingled in the air, making her stomach rumble with hunger. The inn was small but comfortable, with a few tables occupied by locals enjoying their meals or drinks.

It was a far cry from the pristine, polished nature of Cairhien’s nobility, but Elyndria found herself at ease here. It was familiar in a way that reminded her of simpler days.

“Just one room please.” Elyndria requested.

She kept a tight grip on the pouch of coins at her hip. Only a few weeks. That was how long they could last before the silver ran dry, and she wasn’t about to waste it on unnecessary luxuries like a second room.

“I’ll take a room for you,” the innkeeper replied, bustling behind the counter. The innkeeper led them up the creaking wooden stairs to their room, cheerfully whistling as he swung the keys of the inn around his finger.

She had never met someone so cheerful. The old man pushed open the door at the end of the hall and stepped aside to let them in. The room was small but warm, lit by the glow of a modest hearth in the corner. A single bed, neatly made with thick blankets, stood against one wall. A small table and chair sat beneath the only window, and the scent of fresh wood and old parchment lingered in the air.

“This’ll do you well,” the innkeeper said, nodding with approval. “Quiet enough, warm enough. Bathhouse is just down the hall if you need it. Meals in the morning and evening.” He gave them a knowing glance, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And don’t you worry, I don’t ask questions about traveling pairs.”

Elyndria rolled her eyes but smiled. “Thank you,” she said, pressing four silvers into his palm. “We plan to stay for awhile. We will give you payment every night we stay here.”

He nodded and left with a beaming smile, shutting the door behind him.

Rand, who had been quiet since they entered, finally exhaled. “One bed?” He turned to her, an eyebrow raised.

Elyndria dropped her pack by the foot of the bed and turned to face him. “We’ve been sleeping beside each other by the fire every night for weeks. How is this different?”

Rand hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just... a bed.”

“Yes,” she said dryly, kicking off her boots. “A bed. Softer than the ground, warmer than a blanket over dirt, and better than sleeping in the common room with drunkards stumbling over us.” She threw him a pointed look. “Unless you’d rather take the floor?”

Rand sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then stop acting like I just asked you to share my soul, Rand. It’s a bed. Get over it.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.“Fine, fine.” He sat down at the edge of the bed, shifting slightly as if testing the feel of it. “At least it’s not straw.”

Elyndria smirked as she pulled off her outer layers, settling into something more comfortable for sleep. She wasn’t sure why he was making such a fuss about it now. Out on the road, their only warmth had been fire and each other. She had woken up more than once with his arm slung over her or his back pressed against hers.

Still, she supposed there was something different about it now. A closed room. A real bed. The walls of an inn around them instead of the open sky. But none of that changed the fact that she trusted Rand, and she wasn’t about to waste time arguing over space when comfort was so rare to come by.

She slipped beneath the covers, turning onto her side as Rand settled in beside her. For a moment, he lay stiffly on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Relax,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

Rand let out another breath, then finally shifted onto his side, facing away from her.

“Goodnight, Elyndria.”

She smirked at the formality in his voice but didn’t comment. “Goodnight, Rand.”

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warmth filling the space between them. Outside, Foregate hummed with life, the distant sounds of taverns and street performers carrying through the window. But inside their small room, there was only quiet.

And for the first time in weeks, Elyndria let herself rest.

---

The days in Foregate passed in a steady rhythm. Each morning, Elyndria and Rand would wake to the distant sounds of the bustling streets below; merchants shouting their wares, musicians playing lively tunes, and the constant murmur of common folk going about their lives.

They spent their days weaving through the crowds, gathering what information they could, searching for ways to earn coin. Elyndria was wary of drawing too much attention, especially in a city so close to Cairhien proper. Rand, with his height and striking presence, was already difficult enough to keep inconspicuous.

Their coin was thinning faster than Elyndria had hoped. She counted it out one evening, the small pile of coppers and silvers looking pitifully small in the candlelight.

“We can last another two weeks if we're careful," she murmured, rolling a coin between her fingers. "Maybe less."

Rand leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out. "Then we find work."

She sighed. "You say that like it's simple."

"There’s plenty to do in a city this size." He replied

She scoffed, tucking the coins away. "Plenty to do, yes. Plenty of honest work that won’t draw the wrong kind of attention? That’s another matter."

The next morning, Elyndria and Rand set out in different directions, both determined to secure work that would keep them afloat in the city.

But as the hours passed, Elyndria found herself hesitating at every doorway, every opportunity. Taverns, merchants, street stalls. She would step forward, then stop, excuses running through her mind. Too many eyes. Too many questions. Too much risk.

By midday, she found herself lingering outside The Silver Horn, a bustling tavern near the heart of Foregate. The smell of ale and roasting meat drifted out, mixed with the sound of raucous laughter. Her stomach twisted. A tavern meant drunk men. Drunk men meant hands grabbing where they shouldn’t. She was not used to it, and she did not have her sisters to terrorize the man away

She turned on her heel.

By the time she returned to the inn that evening, Rand was already there, waiting for her at their usual table.

He raised an eyebrow as she sat down, eyeing her empty hands. "No luck?"

"No," she said shortly, tearing a piece of bread from the plate between them.

Rand was silent for a moment, watching her. "Or no trying?"

Her grip on the bread tightened. "I tried at a tavern."

"Did you?"

She glared at him, but he only met her gaze evenly. The worst part was, he wasn’t accusing her. He was just... asking. Like he already knew the answer.

She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "It’s not as easy for me as it is for you. You walk into a place, and they see someone strong, someone useful. I walk in, and I have to convince them I’m worth more than the way I look. And then if I do get the job, I have to deal with... other things."

Rand’s expression softened. "I get it. I do. But we have to eat, Elyndria. And we can’t afford to wait much longer."

She stared down at the table, then gave a short nod. "Tomorrow. I’ll try again."

The next morning, she stood in front of The Silver Horn once more. The thought of walking inside still made her skin crawl, but Rand’s words echoed in her head. We have to eat.

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped inside.

The owner, a stout woman named Liera, eyed her up and down as she asked if there was any positions open. "You’re quick on your feet? Don’t spill drinks? And you don’t mind a bit of rough company?"

Elyndria hesitated before answering. "I... I think I can handle it."

Liera gave her a long look before nodding. "Fine. You start now."

And so, by midday, she was weaving between tables, balancing trays of ale and plates of food, dodging grasping hands, and listening to gossip. It was exhausting but simple work, and it kept her ears open to the whispers of Foregate. She overheard plenty; merchants grumbling about trade routes, travelers speaking of conflicts in the south, and even drunken nobles slumming it in the outer city, letting loose tongues spill secrets they would never utter within Cairhien’s walls.

When she returned to the inn that night, Rand was already there. His grey robe was neatly folded beside him, his expression weary but calm.

He glanced up as she stepped inside. "Well?"

She let out a tired sigh, dropping onto the bed. "I didn’t get thrown out, so that’s something."

Rand smirked, pulling off his boots. "Sounds like a successful day."

Elyndria groaned, rolling onto her side. "If I have to dodge one more drunken hand, I swear I’ll dump a whole tray of ale on someone’s head."

Rand chuckled, lying back against the pillows. "And here I thought you’d enjoy charming the patrons."

She shot him a glare. "Not when they think they can grope me as part of their payment."

His amusement faded. "Do I need to come by?"

She snorted. "And do what? Scowl at them until they behave?"

"If it helps."

She studied him for a moment before shaking her head. "I can handle it, Rand."

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop. "I found work too. At the sanitarium."

Her brows furrowed. "A sanitarium?"

"The House of Blue Mercy. It’s... different. The patients, they—" He hesitated, then sighed. "It’s not just tending to the sick. It’s seeing people who have lost everything, even themselves. It’s... hard."

Elyndria’s expression softened. "But you’re helping them."

"Am I?" he murmured. "Or am I just keeping them in a place where they can no longer hurt themselves—or be hurt by the world?"

She reached out, placing a hand over his. "Maybe both. But that doesn’t make it meaningless, Rand. You’re giving them dignity, care. That matters."

He looked at her then, searching her face for something. Whatever he found there must have reassured him, because he let out a slow breath and nodded. "Maybe you’re right."

---

The weeks in Foregate passed in a blur of motion, with Elyndria and Rand carving out their new lives, each day marked by the hum of routine and the slow but steady growth of a bond that neither had anticipated. Elyndria continued her work at The Silver Horn, her once-guarded demeanor softening with each passing day.

She grew accustomed to dodging drunken hands and keeping a steady pace between the tavern's crowded tables, but it wasn’t the work itself that kept her coming back. It was the familiarity. There were faces now, regulars who nodded at her when they entered, who trusted her to remember their usual orders. There was Liera, the stout tavern owner who gruffly tolerated her but never let her feel like a stranger. And then there were the whispers she overheard, snippets of gossip and secrets from the shadows of Foregate, small things that might one day prove useful.

Rand, too, settled into his role at the House of Blue Mercy. At first, the sight of the patients, broken in body and mind, had unsettled him. Elyndria could see the toll it took on him, the quiet weight of it all pressing down on his broad shoulders. But as the days passed, she noticed a change; he was more at peace with it. He came home less burdened, though there was always a quiet somberness to his eyes. She could sense the care he gave to those who had nothing left, how deeply it affected him, how deeply he cared. It was that compassion that made her trust him more than she had trusted anyone in a long time.

There was something comforting about the steady rhythm of their days; working, sharing a meal, the quiet evenings spent together, talking about everything and nothing. Slowly, their bond strengthened. There were moments of laughter, of shared amusement, of quiet support. It was a connection that felt solid, dependable, the kind she had only shared with her sisters in the Green Ajah, the ones who had been there for her when she needed them most.

But even as she grew closer to Rand, even as the weight of the world lightened just a little with his presence, Elyndria’s thoughts still lingered on the White Tower.

They were still out there, weren’t they?

The Aes Sedai, the Warders, the Tower’s eyes and ears. Were they looking for her?

Did Saerel feel betrayed by her disappearance?

Would she be angry, upset, or worse, worried?

Elyndria pushed these thoughts away as best she could, but guilt always followed, silent and insistent.

She had abandoned everything she had known, her sisters, her place in the Green Ajah.

Yet as much as that guilt gnawed at her, Elyndria couldn’t help but notice something else: a feeling of freedom she hadn’t known she was missing. Being away from the White Tower, from the rigid rules, from the ever-watchful eyes, felt like a weight she hadn’t realized she had been carrying. She had been so focused on duty, on service, on the demands of the Tower, that she had forgotten what it felt like to simply... live.

And then there was Rand. He had become a constant in her life, someone she could count on in ways she never expected. He had pulled her out of her shell bit by bit, coaxing her into new experiences. He had insisted she try mead one night after a particularly long shift at the tavern.

At first, Elyndria had been reluctant. Alcohol, even something as simple as mead, always seemed like a foolish indulgence. But Rand’s bright grin and his easy confidence had been hard to resist.

"Come on, just one sip," he had urged, holding up the mug with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "You can’t just avoid it forever."

Elyndria, with a roll of her eyes, had taken the mug from him, feeling the weight of his gaze. She brought it to her lips and took a small sip, barely tasting the honeyed sweetness before the harsh burn hit her throat. Her eyes watered immediately, and she choked, nearly spilling the drink all over herself.

Rand burst out laughing, the sound rich and joyful, echoing around their tiny room.

"That was priceless!" he laughed, unable to stop himself. "You should see your face!"

Elyndria scowled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I don’t know how you drink that stuff," she muttered, still feeling the burn in her throat. "I’ll never do that again."

Rand, still chuckling, handed her a glass of water. "You never know until you try, right?" he said, a warm smile still tugging at his lips.

Elyndria took a long gulp of water, her lips twitching in reluctant amusement.

"Maybe," she said, leaning back against the bed with a sigh. "But I’ll be sticking to water from now on."

Their laughter filled the room, easy and light. And for a moment, Elyndria allowed herself to forget the guilt that lingered at the edges of her thoughts, the worries about the White Tower, the fears about what might be waiting for her when or if she ever returned. For now, she was here, in this moment, with Rand, and that was enough.

---

Days turned into weeks, and with each passing one, their connection grew stronger.

Elyndria found herself relying on Rand more than she ever thought she would. She trusted him with things she hadn’t shared with anyone in years, little snippets of her past, of her fears, of what the Tower had been like before everything changed. He listened, never pressing for more than she was willing to give, always patient, always understanding.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments before sleep claimed her, she thought about what might come next.

What would happen when they had no more coin to stretch, when the work grew harder, when the time would come to move on?

But for now, for this moment, she let herself forget the uncertainties of the future, and simply enjoyed the steady, comforting presence of Rand by her side.

He wasn’t just a companion now.

He was someone she had come to care for deeply, in a way she hadn’t expected. She had never thought she would feel this way again, especially after everything she had left behind. But with Rand, she found herself opening up to something new. Something that felt like trust, like the quiet bond she had shared with her sisters in the Green Ajah, but different. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it, how much she needed it, until now.

And so, each day, as they worked side by side, she continued to let herself trust him a little more, to care a little deeper, knowing that this bond, whatever it was, was something worth holding onto.

And then came the night that made their bond even more stronger. A night that she didn't like to think about to much. A night of instead of having peaceful dreams she had landed herself into a nightmare. The heat of the fire was suffocating. Elyndria could feel it on her skin, the way it stung and burned, creeping up the walls of the tower as she stumbled through the halls.

The smoke choked her, stinging her eyes, and the smell of burning wood hung in the air, thick and oppressive. But above all, it was the screams. Hundreds of voices, crying out in pain, in fear, in desperation. Their voices were all around her, echoing in the narrow, familiar halls.

She didn’t know why, but there was something deeply urgent in her body. Something that made her heart race faster, her breath quicken with every step. The walls, the doors, the windows. They were all so familiar, but now they were consumed by fire.

As she stumbled through the smoke-filled corridors, the screams seemed to grow louder. There were no faces, no figures to see, just the overwhelming sound of people crying for help, lost in the chaos. Then, above the din, she heard voices calling out to her. Muffled, distant, but undeniably there. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, but something about the tone sent a sharp spike of panic through her chest.

She had to move.

Had to find them.

The fear clawed at her, tearing through her thoughts like the fire licking at the walls. She ran. Her feet pounded against the floor, her body pumping with adrenaline as she rushed toward the large double doors at the end of the hallway. She could feel the heat at her back, the flames licking the edges of the walls, but she couldn’t stop.

The voices were growing louder. Desperate. She had to open the doors.

Her hand reached for the door handles, but as her fingers brushed the cold metal, she was yanked back sharply.

Elyndria gasped, a sharp, terrified breath leaving her chest, but the heat and the screams vanished. She was no longer in the building. The fire was gone. The voices had faded.

The darkness of the room around her felt cool against her heated skin, and as she blinked, struggling to adjust to the shift, she saw Rand above her, his face full of concern. His eyes were wide, his brow furrowed.

"Elyndria? Are you okay?" His voice was soft but urgent, filled with concern.

She tried to steady herself, pushing up from the bed, her heart still fluttering in her chest.

"I—I'm sorry," she croaked, her voice rough from the tears she hadn’t even realized she’d been shedding. Her fingers went to her face, wiping away the wetness that had gathered there. "Did I wake you?" Her breath was still shallow, and her mind was reeling from the vivid nightmare.

"It doesn’t matter," Rand replied quietly, his tone reassuring. He reached out, his hand gentle as he wiped the last traces of tears from her cheeks, his fingers warm against her skin. "You’re safe here, okay? Whatever you saw in your dreams, they can’t hurt you."

Elyndria nodded, her head still spinning, her pulse slow but heavy in her chest. She leaned into him slightly, trying to steady herself, but there was still a lingering unease.

"I don’t even know what it was about," she murmured, her voice small in the quiet of the room. She shook her head slightly, as though trying to shake the lingering fear. "When we were in the Ways… the whispers I heard, they didn’t make sense to me. And then I saw things… quick flashes. People screaming. Old, young… they felt so familiar, but I don’t know who they are."

Rand pulled her gently into his chest, and she curled tightly against him, her body still trembling slightly from the remnants of the nightmare.

"It was trying to poison your mind," he said softly, his voice calm and steady. "Make you feel scared, make you doubt. It might not mean anything, Elyndria. Sometimes, dreams are just that—dreams."

She nodded shakily, but a part of her—deep down, where the fire of the nightmare still smoldered—felt doubtful. There was something missing in the flashes. Something that felt important yet remained out of reach. She couldn’t explain it, but she could feel the weight of it, an unspoken truth buried beneath the fragments of the dream.

But for now, as she lay curled in Rand’s arms, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, she didn’t want to think about it anymore. She didn’t want to dwell on the screams, the burning tower, or the voices that haunted her dreams. All she wanted was the comfort of the warmth beside her, the steady presence of Rand, who made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t known she needed.

Rand’s fingers gently stroked through her hair, his warmth a steady presence against the chill of her fear.

"You’re okay," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Whatever it was, it’s gone now. You’re here with me, and you’re safe."

Elyndria let out a quiet breath, her heart still racing but slowly settling, the nightmare fading into the quiet comfort of Rand’s embrace.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to let go, just for a little while. "I’m here," she murmured, curling deeper into him. "I’m here."

And for the first time in a long while, she let herself believe it.

The silence that followed was a balm, settling over Elyndria like a soft blanket. She let herself melt into the comfort of Rand's arms, the steady rhythm of his breathing anchoring her in the present. The nightmare felt distant now, a fleeting thing that was slowly being washed away by the warmth of the moment.

But there was still a weight in her chest, a lingering unease that couldn’t be easily shaken off.

Rand’s fingers continued to gently trace patterns on her back, the motion soothing, and his presence—steady, unyielding—gave her a sense of peace she hadn’t known she needed. She wasn’t alone. In this strange city, with all its chaos and uncertainty, she wasn’t alone. And for the first time in months, that thought didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like a promise.

"I’m sorry," she whispered again, her voice muffled against his chest. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

"You didn’t," Rand replied softly, his voice steady. "You’re not a burden, Elyndria. Don’t apologize."

She sighed, the sound tinged with exhaustion. "I know, I just… I didn’t expect it to be so vivid. It felt real, Rand. Too real. Like I could feel the heat, hear the screams."

His hand stilled for a moment, and she felt him shift slightly, his chin resting atop her head.

"Nightmares can do that," he said quietly. "Make everything feel like it’s right there, in front of you. But it’s not. You’re not there anymore. You’re here, with me, in this moment."

She nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. There was something still gnawing at her, something about the whispers in the Ways, the people in her dream, the overwhelming sense of familiarity. But she couldn’t put it together. It felt like a puzzle with pieces just out of reach.

For a long while, they simply stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world outside momentarily forgotten. Elyndria could feel the warmth of Rand’s body, the comforting strength of his embrace. It grounded her, made her feel safe, even as her mind struggled to make sense of the lingering discomfort.

Eventually, Rand shifted again, pulling her a little closer. "You’re strong, Elyndria. Stronger than you give yourself credit for," he murmured.

Elyndria stayed silent for a moment, absorbing his words, letting them settle in. He was right, of course. She was strong. She’d had to be, for so long.

But sometimes, even strength had its breaking points, and the weight of the past of the White Tower, of her responsibilities, of the guilt she still carried was a burden she could only carry alone. Or so she’d thought.

But now, as she lay here with Rand, she realized that maybe it didn’t have to be that way. Maybe she didn’t have to shoulder everything alone. Maybe—just maybe—there was room in her life for someone else to help carry the weight.

The thought was both comforting and terrifying, but as she rested against him, she knew it was something she’d have to face eventually.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice soft, barely audible.

"For what?" Rand asked, his voice gentle.

"For being here. For letting me be… me."

He didn’t answer immediately, and Elyndria could feel the warmth of his hand on her back, the steady pressure as he held her close. Then, with a soft chuckle, he spoke again. "I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else."

Elyndria smiled faintly, the edges of her worries dulling just a little more. For now, in this moment, there was only the present. The fire, the screams, and the nightmare they were all distant echoes, fading with each passing second.

As she closed her eyes, allowing the warmth of Rand’s presence to lull her back into a gentle, if uneasy, sleep, she realized that despite the confusion, the fear, and the questions still swirling in her mind, she had something now that she hadn’t had before.
She had someone she could trust.

And that, for now, was enough.

Chapter 15: First Steps

The day seemed to stretch on forever as Elyndria navigated the bustling tavern. The heat of the kitchen, the clinking of tankards, and the loud voices from the tables made it hard to focus on anything but the rhythm of her work. But even amidst the chaos, her thoughts kept circling back to her dream. The faces, the screams, the overwhelming sense of urgency. It all felt too real, too familiar, yet distant.

A part of her wished she could shake it, but something told her that she wasn’t meant to forget it.

Rand had been a steady presence in her life since they had arrived in Foregate, a constant that she found herself relying on more than she realized. Each day, he would visit the sanitarium, caring for the patients, offering comfort in ways that only he could. It was a job that, though difficult, seemed to give him purpose.

Elyndria admired that in him. There was an ease to his presence, a calmness that brought a sense of peace to those around him, and it made her realize just how deeply she had come to care for him.

That evening, as she finished her shift and was about to head back to the inn, she found herself looking for him in the crowded tavern. When she spotted him standing near the entrance, his eyes scanning the room, she felt an unexpected surge of relief.

There he was.

Rand caught her gaze and gave her a small nod, moving towards her through the crowd. As he neared, she gave him a weary smile.

“You’re late,” she teased lightly, her voice dry from the hours of talking and serving drinks.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk. I thought you were never going to leave.”

Elyndria chuckled softly, relieved to be near him. “Well, the customers kept me busy. And the tips are better when they think you’re really listening to them.”

Rand smirked, then grew more serious. “Are you alright?”

Elyndria hesitated, looking up at him, feeling the weight of the day and the weight of her dreams still pressing on her chest. “I don’t know. I’ve just been... thinking. About the dreams. And the people I saw. I don’t know who they are, but they feel... important. I keep hearing the same screams. And the voices. But I can’t make sense of it.”

Rand’s gaze softened. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, a grounding touch. “Whatever it is, you’re not facing it alone. You’ve got me. You always will.”

The warmth in his voice steadied her, but the unease in her chest still lingered. She felt his hand linger for a moment before it slipped away, but his presence still felt like a balm, soothing and steadying her.

“Thanks, Rand. I just... I don’t know what it all means. I keep thinking I’m missing something, but it’s like I can’t grab onto it.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “The Ways... they do that to people. They mess with your head. Make you see things that aren’t really there. It’s not your fault.”

Elyndria took a deep breath, releasing some of the tension in her body. “I know. But that doesn’t stop it from feeling real.”

He tilted his head, his eyes soft with concern. “What if it’s not real? What if it’s just your mind playing tricks?”

Elyndria didn’t respond immediately.

The thought settled in her mind, but the feeling of urgency and fear from the dream still clung to her.

What if Rand was right?

What if she was overthinking it?

“Maybe you're right,” she said quietly, “but I don’t know if I can just ignore it. It feels too important. Too urgent.”

Rand gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t fully reach his eyes. “We’ll figure it out. But you don’t have to carry it all on your own. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

His words, simple as they were, brought her a measure of peace. There was strength in them, and she found herself leaning into it, just as she had done over the past weeks since they had been together. There was a sense of trust between them now, a bond that had grown steadily and quietly as they worked side by side, sharing their burdens, sharing their silences.

The door to the tavern creaked open, and a gust of cool evening air swept inside, bringing with it the scent of fresh rain. Elyndria looked toward the door, her gaze distant for a moment, before she turned back to Rand.

“You’re right,” she said with a small smile. “I’m not alone. And I don’t have to figure this all out by myself.”

He returned her smile, that quiet strength in his eyes never wavering. “No, you don’t.”

---

Elyndria and Rand left the tavern, the cool night air immediately washing over them as they stepped out into the pitch-black streets. The darkness was thick, broken only by the faint glow of lanterns hanging from the walls of nearby buildings.

She sighed, the weight of the day finally easing off her shoulders as they walked side by side. A sense of relief settled in her chest.

The dream still loomed in the back of her mind, but for now, being with Rand felt like a small escape from it all.

"I think I'm ready for a rest," Elyndria murmured, her voice soft but tired. "And maybe some dinner too. The food in the tavern didn’t really help."

Rand nodded in agreement. "Sounds good. I’m with you."

The streets were quiet as they made their way through the darkened city, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the cobblestone roads. Elyndria could hear the distant sounds of the city; the occasional shout, the clink of metal as someone worked late into the night but it all felt far away, like a separate world.

The only thing she could focus on was Rand at her side. His presence, steady and unwavering, was like a fortress she didn’t even know she needed until now.

And then, just as they neared a narrow alley, a voice cut through the stillness of the night.

“Well, well... what have we here?” A drunken slur.

Elyndria tensed, instinctively pulling closer to Rand.

The man stumbling toward them was clearly inebriated, his clothes hanging loosely on his frame, his face flushed and his eyes glazed.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he continued, his gaze sliding over Elyndria with a look that made her skin crawl. “Haven’t seen blond hair so pale before. Pretty little thing, aren’t you? Pretty pink lips too.”

Rand’s jaw clenched at the man’s words, his muscles tensing. He stepped forward slightly, his hand instinctively moving toward his side. But Elyndria reached out, her voice low and firm.

“Don’t,” she whispered urgently. “Ignore him, Rand. Let’s just keep walking.”

But the drunk man wasn’t done. With a slow, deliberate movement, he grabbed Elyndria’s wrist, his grip tight and possessive.

“Didn’t you hear me, sweetheart?” he sneered. “Think you’re better than me? I can put you on your knees, make you beg.”

Her heart thundered in her chest, and for a moment, Elyndria could feel the familiar heat of the One Power swirling inside her, ready to react. But she fought the urge, clenched her fists, and forced herself to stay calm.

She couldn’t show him what she could do. Not here. Not like this.

Rand’s eyes flared with a mixture of anger and protectiveness, his fist shot forward, landing a punch square in the man’s face. The drunk stumbled back, groaning in pain.

Elyndria felt the sudden crackle of Rand’s power, like a storm brewing beneath his skin. The air between them seemed to hum, charged with his barely contained fury. It was unmistakable, the danger of it. She could feel the rawness of his power, the anger twisting inside him, the urge to unleash it all.

“Rand, no!” she said urgently, stepping toward him, hands outstretched. He was looking down at the man, his hands balled into fists, ready to strike again. Before he could take another step, Elyndria surged forward, her arms wrapped around him, pulling him away from the drunk.

“Let it go, Rand. Don’t do this. We’re not here for that.”

Rand muttered under his breath, his anger still smoldering. He shook his head, trying to shake off her touch, but Elyndria held fast. She could feel his energy pulsing, dangerous and wild.

“You need to calm down,” she whispered. “You can’t let him make you lose control.”

“I won’t—” He clenched his jaw, muttering darkly. “I can’t—”

Elyndria moved quickly, pulling him further into the empty alley. She knew she had to get him away from the situation before it escalated even more. She didn’t want him to do something he’d regret.

“Rand,” she said softly, taking his hands in hers, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Feel my heartbeat. My heartbeat, Rand. Let it calm you.”

She placed his hand on her chest, where her heart pounded fast from the adrenaline of the encounter. His fingers flexed against her skin as he felt the rhythm of her pulse, the steady beat grounding him. He closed his eyes, his breath steadying, and for a few moments, they stood in silence.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice low, almost a whisper. “You have to calm down. This is just one man. He’s not worth your power.”

Rand’s breath slowed, his anger receding into the background, though the tension still lingered. His fingers curled slightly on her chest, the warmth of his touch seeping into her skin. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, calmer now, but the annoyance was still there.

He looked down at her, his gaze softer now, but the weight of what had just happened still hung between them. He took a deep breath, his voice quieter, but no less intense.

“He shouldn’t have said those things to you. He shouldn’t have touched you like that,” he muttered, anger creeping into his voice.

Elyndria nodded, though her chest tightened. “No, he shouldn’t have. But... it’s not the end of the world. Let’s just move past it.”

Rand stared at her face for a moment, his eyes tracing the lines of her features. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest as she met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them. The air around them felt charged again, and she realized just how close they were standing. She felt his breath on her skin, the heat from his body so near to hers. It was as if time had slowed, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Rand—” she began, her voice barely a whisper.

He cut her off, his other hand reaching for her arm gently, his fingers brushing against her skin. His gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw something else in his eyes—something deeper. “Never again,” he promised quietly. “No one will touch you again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Elyndria sighed, a shaky exhale, but the words stuck in her chest. She couldn’t say anything in return, but the weight of his promise hung heavy between them.

They stood there for a few seconds, inches apart, before Rand pulled away, his hand still resting on hers. He reached for her other hand, taking it gently in his. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, they walked together, more closely than before, the distance between them now smaller than it had ever been. Elyndria didn’t know what the future held, but for now, she felt more connected to Rand than she ever had. And in the strange intimacy of their walk back to the inn, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of quiet hope.

---

The night seemed to wrap around them as they walked, the soft sounds of their footsteps echoing through the darkened streets. Elyndria could feel the warmth of Rand’s hand in hers, the closeness between them more pronounced than ever before. There was a gentle tension in the air, a quiet understanding that had settled between them. It wasn’t just the aftermath of the altercation; they were both more aware of each other now, in a way that felt different, more intimate.

Elyndria couldn’t help but think back to the promise Rand had made. Never again. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted in that moment, something between them, and maybe even something within herself. She had always prided herself on being independent, on not needing anyone. But now, standing here beside Rand, she felt the weight of his presence, not as a burden, but as something she could lean on. And that terrified her in a way she hadn’t expected.

They finally reached the inn, its warm light spilling from the windows, beckoning them inside. The moment they stepped through the door, the familiar hum of the tavern hit them; the chatter, the clink of glasses, the comforting smell of cooked food. It felt like a different world from the quiet, tense walk they’d just shared.

Elyndria looked up at Rand, his jaw still set, his eyes a little distant, but his grip on her hand never faltering. She wasn’t sure what to say, or if anything needed to be said at all. He had already done so much for her, had already been her rock in so many ways. And yet, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she wasn’t completely honest with him, not about the dreams, not about the whispers from the Ways, not about everything that still lingered in her heart.

“I’ll go get us food,” Rand said, his voice a little quieter than usual, as if he too were lost in his own thoughts. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go, stepping toward the crowded section of the tavern.

Elyndria stood still for a moment, watching him walk away. Her heart still felt tight in her chest, unsure of what to do next. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on him until now, and that realization was as overwhelming as it was comforting.

Taking a deep breath, she chose a table in a quiet corner in the back of the room where they could sit without too much disturbance. She pulled out a chair and sat down, trying to push the unsettling thoughts out of her mind. Rand returned with two plates of food, his smile a little more genuine now, though there was still a guarded look in his eyes. He set the food down in front of her and took a seat across from her.

The weight of the evening hung in the air as they continued to sit across from one another, the silence between them heavy with unspoken thoughts. Elyndria's mind circled back to the incident with the drunk man, to the way Rand had nearly lost control of his power, a reflexive response to someone touching her.

She could still feel the tension in the air, the energy that had sparked between them. Rand hadn't meant for it to happen, of that she was certain. He had only wanted the man to leave them alone, to protect her, but the power had reacted without thought, just as it had done in the past. Elyndria reached across the table, her fingers brushing his lightly.

"Rand," she said softly, "It's okay. You didn’t hurt him. You didn’t lose control."

He looked up at her, his face conflicted, the weight of his actions still hanging over him. "I didn’t mean to... it just... happened." His voice was strained, his frustration evident. "I just wanted him to leave us alone, but now I feel like I can't trust myself. Like if I keep using this power, I’ll lose control. I could hurt someone."

Elyndria's heart ached for him.

She understood what he was feeling all too well. The One Power was as much a part of you as your own breath, and when you couldn’t control it, it could be terrifying.

"You’re not going to lose yourself, Rand," she said, her voice steady and reassuring. "You’ve got to learn to live with the power. It’s a part of you, and it reacts to your emotions, but that’s not something you have to fight against. It’s about learning control, but also accepting it, accepting that it’s a part of who you are."

Rand looked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I don’t understand. I’m just trying to keep control, but the more I use it, the more it feels like I’m losing myself."

Elyndria nodded, her gaze softening with understanding. "I know. I struggled with it too, when I first started. It took me months to really understand how to use the power, to be one with it instead of fighting against it. I was surprised I didn’t give Saerel grey hairs from how many times my training failed."

Rand’s eyes widened slightly. "You? You struggled?"

Elyndria chuckled softly, a bittersweet smile on her lips. "Yes. It wasn’t easy. Some novices never even learn to properly channel the One Power. They leave, or stay for many years, before they learn to use it right. It took me six years before I was ready to join the Green Ajah. And even then, I wasn’t perfect. It was a long journey."

Rand stared at her, the surprise clear in his eyes. "I would have thought it would come easily to you, being in the White Tower and all."

Elyndria shook her head, her expression growing more serious. "It’s not easy. The One Power isn’t something that comes naturally to everyone, even to those who are trained from a young age. There’s so much to learn, and it’s as much about your emotions as it is about technique. That’s what makes it so difficult."

She could see Rand wrestling with his own thoughts, his own doubts.

He sighed deeply, looking down at his food as if the weight of the conversation had settled on his shoulders.

"I’ll never learn it properly, will I?" he muttered, almost to himself. "The more I use this power, the more chance I have of losing control. Hurting someone. I can’t let that happen."

Elyndria reached across the table, her hand gently covering his. "And you won’t, Rand. I know you won’t." Her voice was filled with certainty. "You’re a protector, not someone who looks to hurt people who get in your way. You’re not that kind of person. And when there are times when the power is humming under your skin, when it’s threatening to take over, I’ll be here. I’ll help guide you through it. You’re not alone."

Rand looked at her, his gaze softer now, his features still troubled but not as dark. He nodded slowly, his hand squeezing hers gently.

"I hope so," he muttered, looking down at his food again. "I just don’t know how to control it sometimes."

Elyndria gave him a reassuring smile. "We’ll figure it out. Together. Just like we always do."

He hummed in response, a quiet acknowledgment, before he pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his chair. "I think I’m ready to head to bed. I’m exhausted."

Elyndria nodded, a small yawn escaping her. "Yeah, me too."

The two of them stood, and the walk back to their room felt different this time. There was a quieter understanding between them, an unspoken connection that had deepened in the course of their conversation. The usual awkwardness was gone, replaced by a sense of comfort and closeness that neither had anticipated but both welcomed.

Once they reached the room, they each changed quickly into their nightclothes, the silence between them now a peaceful one. Elyndria lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind still racing but her body beginning to relax. She could feel the steady rhythm of Rand’s breathing beside her, the warmth of his presence a comforting anchor in the stillness of the room.

Minutes passed, and she thought that perhaps he had fallen asleep. But then, without warning, Rand shifted, rolling over and curling into her body, his arms wrapping around her in a gentle embrace. Elyndria froze for a moment, surprised by the suddenness of it, but then slowly, cautiously, she rolled toward him, tucking her head under his chin, her body instinctively seeking the comfort of his warmth.

She let her leg slip between his, the two of them entwined in an intimate embrace that felt both familiar and new.

Neither of them said a word. There was no need for words. The connection they shared in that moment spoke for itself.

Her heart raced, nerves fluttering in her chest, but as she lay there in his arms, the world outside the room seemed to disappear. It was just them, together in the quiet of the night. Slowly, Elyndria’s breathing evened out, her body relaxing, her mind settling. She was safe, here, with him. And despite the uncertainty that had plagued her in the past, in this moment, she felt something more; contentment, peace.

Rand’s grip on her tightened slightly, as if sensing her stillness, and she nestled closer into him, letting the warmth of his presence lull her into sleep. The last thought she had before drifting off was simple: Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to be after all.

---

Two weeks passed, and the quiet tension between Elyndria and Rand seemed to have evolved into something else; something palpable, something that fluttered in her chest every time he was near. Every touch, no matter how innocent, seemed to linger longer now. A hand on her waist to steady her when she stumbled on the uneven path, his fingers brushing against hers as he handed her a mug, or the soft, fleeting touch of his fingers as he tucked her hair behind her ear. Each moment left her breathless, her heart racing in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

The connection between them had deepened, and she could feel it in the way he looked at her with those soft glances that seemed to carry unspoken words, a glint in his eyes that she couldn’t quite decipher, but that made her pulse quicken every time she caught him staring at her.

Elyndria had tried to dismiss the effect Rand had on her, but the more time they spent together, the harder it became to ignore. He wasn’t just a protector now. He was something more, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to fully understand. But every time he touched her, every time he looked at her with that softness in his eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a growing warmth in her chest.

One morning, as she was about to leave for work, Elyndria descended the stairs of the inn, her footsteps echoing in the quiet space. The familiar scent of the tavern filled the air, and as she approached the counter, she noticed Rand standing there, laughing softly with a woman.

She paused mid-step, her gaze flickering between the two of them.

The woman was striking; dark-haired, with a confident aura about her, her posture relaxed as she leaned casually against the counter. Elyndria felt a strange tightening in her chest, a sudden unease she couldn’t quite place. It was a feeling that felt unfamiliar, something she quickly brushed off as she continued to walk toward them.

The woman was still talking, a low, melodic voice that seemed to captivate Rand’s attention as they shared a laugh. Elyndria’s steps faltered just slightly, her gaze flicking between them before she forced herself to continue walking. She didn’t know why, but something about the sight of them together stirred a strange feeling deep within her; something akin to jealousy, though she didn’t want to acknowledge it.

As she neared the counter, the woman turned her gaze toward her, still smiling, and Rand’s eyes shifted too, catching the sound of Elyndria’s footsteps. His chuckle died in his throat as he looked at her, his expression shifting into something softer.

“Elyndria, this is Selene,” he said, his voice warm. “Selene, this is Elyndria.”

Elyndria offered a polite nod, trying to push past the sudden unease that had settled over her.

"Hello," she said, her voice steady, but there was a strange knot in her chest that she couldn’t shake.

Selene’s smile widened into a slow, almost catlike grin, and she leaned in slightly, her gaze lingering on Elyndria before she turned to Rand with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Elyndria,” she said, her tone playful. “My father’s gotten ill recently, so I’ll be taking over the inn now. Looks like I’ll be seeing more of you around.”

Elyndria forced herself to smile, her eyes narrowing just slightly at Selene’s words. It was clear that Selene was taking this new role in stride, but Elyndria couldn’t help but notice the way she spoke to Rand; like they shared an inside joke, something familiar between them.

"Father's getting older, and I've been helping him for a while, but now it's official," Selene continued, her eyes shifting back to Rand. "It’s nice having some company around while I get settled in. I was struggling with a tray of glasses this morning , and Rand came over to help me." She gave him a cheeky grin, one that was far too knowing.

Elyndria felt her heart tighten, she glanced at Rand, but his expression was neutral, a faint smile still on his lips, as though he hadn’t thought much of the exchange.

“I was just helping,” Rand said quickly, with an easygoing undertone. "It wasn’t a big deal.”

Selene laughed lightly, her gaze flicking back to Elyndria as she leaned against the counter. “Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t. But it’s nice, isn’t it? Having someone there to lend a hand?”

Elyndria wasn’t sure how to respond, her mind buzzing with conflicting thoughts. It was nothing, she told herself. Just two people talking. But the way Selene looked at Rand, the way she teased him with that playful smile, sent a ripple of unease through her.

“I should get going,” Elyndria said, her voice a little sharper than she meant. She didn’t want to feel like this. She didn’t want to feel jealous, but the feeling was there, insistent. She offered a quick smile to Selene, trying to push the tension aside. “Nice to meet you, Selene. Take care.”

Selene’s smile never wavered, but there was something in her eyes that Elyndria couldn’t quite read, something almost predatory, as though she was watching Elyndria closely.

"I’m sure we’ll see more of each other soon," she said, her voice smooth and knowing.

Elyndria nodded once more, then quickly turned toward the door. She tried to push the unease out of her mind, but as she stepped into the cool morning air, her chest felt heavy again. Why did it bother her so much to see Rand laughing with Selene? Why did the easy camaraderie between them stir up that strange feeling?

The walk to work was slow, her thoughts a jumble, but one thing was certain; something was changing, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it. The connection she shared with Rand had been growing stronger each day, but this new complication, this new dynamic with Selene, had stirred something she didn’t understand.

By the time Elyndria arrived at the tavern, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her relationship with Rand was shifting into something neither of them could control. Something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she could walk away from.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Elyndria. She went through the motions of her work of serving drinks, cleaning tables, engaging with customers but her mind kept drifting back to the morning. Selene’s teasing smile, the way she had looked at Rand with those glinting eyes. It all felt off, like something was out of place, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

The knot in her chest grew tighter, her thoughts returning to the way Selene had looked at Rand. There was something in her eyes; interest, curiosity, something that made Elyndria’s heart flutter uncomfortably. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly, but it was close. It was as if there was something more between them, something that Elyndria wasn’t part of.

She tried to focus on her work, but it felt like the unease was gnawing at her, making everything seem distant and hollow. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe insecurity but whatever it was, it wouldn’t go away. Every time her thoughts turned to Selene and Rand, she felt a wave of discomfort.

By the time her shift ended, the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the streets. Elyndria walked back to the inn, hoping the fresh air would help clear her head, but the weight in her chest only seemed to grow heavier. Her heart raced as she thought of seeing Rand again. What would it be like? Would things be different now?

When she walked through the door, the sounds of the tavern hit her; laughter, the clink of glasses, the smell of roasted meat but the familiar comfort was missing.

She spotted Rand near the counter, talking with Selene. They were huddled together, a map of the inn between them, their voices low and friendly. Selene’s laughter was light, almost musical, and Rand’s smile was easy and warm.

Elyndria’s stomach twisted at the sight.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching them, the knot in her chest tightening until it almost felt like it might choke her. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to feel like an outsider, like something was slipping away from her.

She tried to walk past them, to retreat to their room, to escape the emotions threatening to spill over, but before she could, Rand looked up. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. His smile softened, and it was like the weight of everything else faded into the background.

“Elyndria,” he said, his voice warm and inviting, pulling her from her thoughts. “I was just talking with Selene about some changes to the inn. She’s taking over, and we were discussing a few things.”

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She forced herself to smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice felt small, strained.

“No interruption at all,” Selene said smoothly, her smile sharp as she glanced between them. “We were just talking about the new ownership. I’ll be settling in soon, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on the changes. A fresh perspective is always useful.”

Elyndria nodded stiffly, unsure of what to say.

She wanted to leave, wanted to be anywhere but here, feeling like the air between them was thick with unspoken words.

Rand, oblivious to the tension settling around them, turned back to her with that soft smile.

“I was thinking of going for a walk after dinner,” he said, his tone gentle, almost as if he was trying to reach her. “Would you like to join me?”

Elyndria hesitated.

Her heart was racing, the tension in her chest unbearable. She wanted to say no, to retreat, to avoid whatever this was that was brewing between her and him. But she couldn’t. The way he was looking at her, soft and earnest, made it impossible to turn him down.

“I’d like that,” she said, her voice quieter now, though she could still hear the tremor of uncertainty in it. The tightness in her chest didn’t ease, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

Selene gave a little laugh, and her gaze lingered on Rand for a moment longer than Elyndria was comfortable with. Then, with a smile that was both sweet and knowing, she turned to Elyndria.

“Well, I suppose I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, her tone almost too sugary. “I’ve got some things to take care of around here. Don’t let me keep you.”

Elyndria nodded, the smile on her lips tight and forced. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being dismissed, as if she was the one on the outside now. The weight of Selene’s words lingered in the air long after she had walked away, leaving Elyndria with a sinking feeling she couldn’t explain.

Rand turned back to her, his eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice warm, though there was an edge of concern in it.

Elyndria nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she was convincing him or herself.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” she said, but the words felt hollow. “Just... a lot on my mind.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he didn’t press her further. Instead, he reached out and gently brushed his hand against hers, a simple touch, but it sent a spark of warmth through her skin.

“If you ever need to talk, you know I’m here,” he said quietly.

Elyndria’s heart skipped, and she managed a faint smile.

“I know,” she whispered, and for a moment, the world felt a little less heavy. But the knot in her chest remained, as persistent as ever.

As they walked out into the cool evening air, Elyndria’s thoughts swirled with everything she had seen and felt that day. But one thing was clear, nothing would be the same anymore.

The cool evening air wrapped around them as Rand and Elyndria walked through the city, their steps in sync, their arms brushing against each other every now and then, sending a soft, warm spark through her. It was a quiet walk, filled with easy conversation about their days.

They talked of the work they'd done, the residents Rand helped, the oddities of the tavern, and the way the hours seemed to stretch endlessly at times. But beneath it all, Elyndria felt a strange energy, an unspoken connection that lingered in the air between them.

They strolled into the bustling marketplace, the vibrant colors of the stalls and the hum of voices making the evening feel alive. They paused at a food stand, buying simple but satisfying meals and mugs of mead. Finding an empty table in the middle of the square, they sat, the sounds of the marketplace swirling around them.

Elyndria couldn’t help but notice the way people glanced at Rand, the attention his red hair seemed to draw. She chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair.

"Can't take you anywhere without people staring at your hair," she teased, her tone light but affectionate.

Rand, feeling the stares, touched his hair thoughtfully.

"It does make me stand out, doesn't it?" he said quietly, his voice almost pensive. "Not many people in my village had red like me either."

Elyndria smiled softly, looking at him with a newfound fondness. "It's a beautiful color," she said, her voice warm and sincere.

The words seemed to take Rand by surprise. His cheeks flushed pink, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He glanced down at the table, his hand reaching for his mug of mead as if to hide the slight embarrassment creeping up on him.

Elyndria couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was rare to see him shy, especially over something as small as a compliment. But there was something about it, something that made her heart flutter, to know it was her words that had caused that blush.

The music from a nearby group of musicians began to pick up, lively and upbeat, filling the air with rhythm. People around them started to rise, joining in the dance, their movements full of energy and joy. Elyndria swayed slightly in her chair, letting the music wash over her.

It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time—such freedom, such energy. It was nothing like the calm, disciplined atmosphere of the White Tower.

This was different. This was alive.

She glanced up and caught Rand watching her with a soft expression. Her heart skipped a beat, and her face flushed as she looked down, suddenly aware of his gaze.

"You're staring," she murmured shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rand hummed, the corners of his mouth lifting into a larger smile. Without another word, he stood up and extended his hand to her, his tone light and teasing.

“A dance, my lady?" he said, his voice soft but carrying a hint of playful mockery.

Elyndria froze for a moment, uncertainty flooding her. She stared at his hand, then back at his hopeful face. "Oh, I don’t know," she stuttered, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "I’ve never... danced before. I’ll be horrible." She bit her lip, not wanting to embarrass herself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable either.

Rand’s eyes softened as he smiled reassuringly. "I haven’t danced much either," he said, his voice gentle, trying to make her feel at ease. "We’ll learn together."

Elyndria hesitated, glancing around the marketplace, her gaze landing on the dancing bodies. The thought of making a fool of herself in front of so many people made her stomach churn. But there was something about Rand, something in his eyes, that made her heart ache with longing.

She didn’t want to say no, not to him.

Rand sighed lightly, his eyes widening with that soft, pleading look she couldn’t resist.

"Come on," he said, his voice soft but persuasive. "The music and dancing remind me of home. Let me enjoy it, yeah?"

Elyndria sighed in defeat, her heart racing as she placed her hand in his. The moment her fingers touched his, a jolt of warmth shot through her, and Rand grinned cheekily, pulling her up with ease. He took her into the crowd, his grip gentle but firm, almost as if she weighed nothing at all.

As they moved into the midst of the dancers, Rand let go of her hand and stepped back, a mischievous glint in his eye. They shared a moment, just standing there, before Elyndria awkwardly glanced at her feet, unsure of what to do next.

"What do we do now?" she asked, her voice small.

Rand grinned wider. "We have fun," he said with a wink, before starting to move in front of her, his feet shifting in strange, goofy movements that had her trying hard not to laugh.

She glanced around, feeling a little self-conscious, but Rand grabbed her hands, pulling her into the dance. She couldn’t hold back her laughter as she followed his lead, the sound of her laughter blending with the music around them. Her hair tickled her face as it swirled with her, the free-flowing motions of the dance filling her with joy she hadn’t felt in so long.

They moved together, laughing and swaying with the music. Rand spun her, and with a playful dip, she clung to him, laughing loudly. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers, his steady hands guiding her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt completely carefree. As the music slowed, the tempo turning soft and gentle, Elyndria’s breath came out in little bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She looked at Rand, who seemed just as out of breath, his face confused as he looked around, unsure of what to do next.
The music was slow now, and the energy in the air had shifted, leaving them both standing there, uncertain. Elyndria felt a wave of courage rise within her. Slowly, she stepped closer to Rand, her hands going around his shoulders, her chest brushing against his.

She felt his breath catch, his gaze dropping to her face as if he hadn’t expected it. His expression softened, a small, shaky smile forming on his lips as he held her, both of them swaying gently to the rhythm of the slow music.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Elyndria could feel the weight of the moment, the closeness between them, the soft press of his hands on her back. Her heart raced, but it was no longer from nerves. It was from something else; something tender, something real. They held each other, lost in the slow rhythm of the dance, and for once, everything else seemed to fade away.

The slow music wrapped around them, and the world outside of their shared space seemed to disappear entirely. Elyndria’s breath felt shallow, her pulse quick, but not from nervousness anymore. The steady rhythm of the music seemed to draw her closer to Rand, his presence grounding her as they swayed together. Her head was tucked just beneath his chin, and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek felt like a comforting rhythm that matched her own.

Rand's arms were strong around her, but there was a tenderness in his touch, a quiet reverence that made her heart swell. His hand gently rested on the small of her back, pulling her just a little bit closer, and she could feel the heat of his body against hers. Every small movement, every shift in position felt so intimate, so right.

She didn’t know how long they swayed like that, but the passage of time felt irrelevant. All that mattered was the feeling of being close to him, of having him here with her like this.

Rand’s voice, soft and low, broke the silence between them. "I never thought I’d be here, you know," he said, his breath warm against her hair. "Never imagined I'd be... dancing like this."

Elyndria smiled softly, raising her head just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were focused on hers, his expression open, his vulnerability laid bare in that moment. She could feel his uncertainty, his hesitation, but it only made her want to stay in this moment even more.

"I never imagined it either," she replied quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "But... I’m glad it’s with you."

The words hung in the air between them, simple but full of meaning. A warmth spread through her chest, and she was certain she could feel his heart beating faster now, mirroring her own. Rand’s grip on her tightened ever so slightly, pulling her even closer, as though he was afraid to let go, afraid of breaking the moment.

He leaned his forehead gently against hers, his breath slow and steady. "I’m glad it’s with you too, Elyndria."

Elyndria closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sincerity in his words wash over her. She felt a soft smile tug at her lips as she nestled deeper into his embrace. She could feel the pulse of the One Power, faint but present, humming underneath their skin. Their connection, both emotional and something deeper, seemed to fill the space between them.

---

The next morning, Elyndria was pulled from her dreams by a gentle shake on her shoulder. She blinked her eyes open, groggy and disoriented, the room still dim with the early light filtering through the curtains.

"Rand?" she murmured, rubbing her eyes and pushing herself up on her elbows. "What’s going on?"

Rand was standing beside the bed, a mischievous grin on his face. His eyes twinkled with excitement. "Get up, Elyndria. We’re going on a small adventure today."

She frowned, confused, her mind still foggy from sleep. "An adventure? What kind of adventure?" She threw the blanket off her and sat up, raising an eyebrow. "It’s early, Rand. What’s going on?"

He chuckled softly, walking toward the window and drawing the curtains open to reveal the sun just starting to rise. "A secret one," he said with a playful grin, his tone full of mystery. "You’ll find out soon enough. But for now, get dressed. We leave in an hour."

Elyndria stared at him for a moment, then sighed and shook her head, unable to suppress a small smile. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"Maybe," Rand said, leaning down to tug on her braid. "But you’ll enjoy it, I promise." He straightened up and gave her a wink before heading toward the door. "I’ll be downstairs. Don’t take too long." And with that, he was gone.

Elyndria sat there for a moment, the weight of the situation finally sinking in. A secret adventure, early in the morning... What in the world was he planning? Despite her confusion, there was a flutter of excitement in her chest. The unpredictability of it all, the mystery; something in her felt eager to see where this would lead.

She shook her head, laughing softly to herself as she pulled herself out of bed. Whatever it was, she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist Rand’s charm and his sense of adventure. And with that thought, she quickly began to get ready, her mind already buzzing with anticipation. It didn’t take her long to be ready before Rand was dragging her out of the inn and out of the city.

Elyndria walked beside Rand, the morning air crisp against her skin as they made their way farther from the city. Her steps were light, but the sense of curiosity gnawed at her. She kept glancing over at Rand, who seemed unusually evasive, avoiding her gaze and offering little explanation whenever she asked where they were going. His lips twitched with that same mischievous grin, but he remained silent.

"Come on, Rand," she said, nudging him playfully. "Where are we going? You’re being awfully mysterious."

He only shrugged, his grin growing wider. "You’ll see when we get there."

Elyndria frowned slightly, feeling both frustrated and intrigued. She had learned by now that Rand could be stubborn when it came to surprises, and she couldn’t help but feel an odd mix of excitement and suspicion rising in her chest. Why was he being so secretive?

The mystery only deepened when he moved the basket he was carrying further from her reach as they continued walking, his arm swinging protectively around it. She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You’re not letting me peek, are you?"

"Not this time," Rand replied, the mischievous glint in his eyes making her heart flutter despite herself.

Elyndria huffed in mock annoyance, but she couldn’t deny how much she loved these little moments with him and of how they made her feel closer to him, and how she couldn’t help but be swept up in the energy of it all.

They walked for nearly an hour, the city behind them now just a memory. But as they continued, Elyndria began to hear something that struck a chord within her. The faintest sound, the gentle, rhythmic rush of water. Her heart skipped a beat, and she glanced at Rand, who was staring ahead with that same mysterious smile.

Her pulse quickened, and before she could stop herself, she reached out and gave him a light shove on his shoulder, a laugh escaping her lips. "You’ve got to be kidding me!"

Rand chuckled softly, but didn’t answer her, the twinkle in his eyes betraying a hint of excitement. Elyndria took off running, her feet carrying her faster than she could think, eager to see if her hunch was right.

When she rounded the corner, her breath caught in her throat. There it was; just ahead of her, a large river winding through the landscape. The water was so clear, the sunlight sparkling across the surface in a dazzling display. It reminded her of the river near the White Tower, the place where she had often gone to reflect, to find peace in the rhythm of the current.

For a moment, Elyndria stood frozen, taking it all in. The gentle flow of the water, the quiet beauty of the landscape, the sense of calm that washed over her. It was breathtaking. She had never imagined that something so simple could stir so much inside her, but here it was. She felt at home in its presence, a sense of tranquility settling over her.

"I thought you’d like it."

Elyndria startled at the sound of Rand’s voice behind her. She turned, and her heart melted as she saw him, his expression unexpectedly nervous as he fumbled with various plates and food in the basket. He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly as he set everything up. "I thought you’d like a swim... and a picnic," he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with uncertainty. "A rest, after everything we’ve been through."

Elyndria’s eyes widened in disbelief, her hand instinctively going to her chest as warmth bloomed inside her. She felt a rush of emotion—surprise, joy, gratitude—all mixing together in a heady blend. Rand had thought of all of this. He had planned this day for her, a day to escape, to breathe, to be free. It was more than she could have ever hoped for. And the thought that he had gone out of his way to do this, just for her, made her heart swell with something deeper than affection.

She smiled softly, her voice barely a whisper, "Rand... I can’t believe you did this."

He looked up at her, his expression still uncertain, as though waiting for her to say more. For a moment, she simply stood there, looking at him. The fluttering in her chest seemed to grow stronger, and she realized that the sense of awe wasn’t just for the river or the picnic—it was for him.
For the kindness he had shown her, for the way he always found a way to make her feel special, even when she didn’t expect it.

"You didn’t have to do all this," Elyndria said softly, stepping closer to him. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, overwhelmed by the depth of what he had given her. "But I’m so glad you did."

Rand smiled at her, a soft, relieved smile. "I wanted to," he said quietly. "You deserve it."

Her heart ached with how simple and sincere his words were. Elyndria stepped forward, reaching out and brushing her fingers against his arm, grounding herself in the moment. She had never imagined she could feel this way. This connected, this cared for by someone who weren’t the Green Ajah.

Elyndria’s fingers lingered on Rand’s arm for just a moment longer, her heart beating in time with the rhythm of the river behind her. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her touch, the solid strength of him that always seemed to make her feel anchored, even in moments of uncertainty.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "This... this is more than I could’ve asked for."

Rand looked at her, his eyes soft and searching, as if he were trying to read her in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and the only sound that filled the space between them was the gentle flow of the river.

Elyndria’s gaze drifted back to the water, its surface reflecting the clear sky above. She could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the trees nearby, the peaceful hum of the world around them. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and demands of the city, to the weight of everything she had left behind. Here, everything felt still, at peace.

Rand’s voice broke the silence once more, quieter this time, as if he were carefully choosing his words. "I just... I wanted to do something for you. After everything. You’ve done so much for me."

Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat, and she looked back at him, her heart swelling once more. "I haven’t done anything that anyone wouldn’t do for the people they care about," she replied softly.

Rand shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him.

"You don’t get it, do you?" His gaze was unwavering, his smile warm but filled with an honesty that made her chest tighten. "You’ve made more of a difference than you realize. You’ve changed things for me. For the better."

Elyndria swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the weight of his words. She had never expected to hear something like that. She had always tried to keep her emotions in check, to stay focused on the task at hand, but now, standing here with him, everything felt so... real. So raw.

"I’m just... trying to do what feels right," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a step back. "I didn't think you cared about it this much."

Rand took a step forward, closing the distance between them until there was barely any space left. His eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, it felt as if the world around them had ceased to exist.

There was no noise, no distractions, just the two of them.

His hand reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against hers before closing around her hand in a soft, tender grip.

“I care," he said, his voice low and sincere. "More than I ever thought I could. And I think you care too, even when you try to hide it."

Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat, and she found herself unable to look away from him. It was as if everything she had been feeling; everything she had been holding back was coming to the surface, but in this moment, she felt safe enough to let it all out.

She gave him a small, unsure smile, and then, with more courage than she’d felt in a long time, she stepped closer to him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Maybe I do," she whispered.

Rand’s smile softened, and he leaned down slightly, brushing his lips across her forehead in the gentlest of gestures. Elyndria closed her eyes at the touch, the warmth of it seeping into her very soul, filling her with something both unfamiliar and deeply comforting.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. The world around them—the river, the trees, the sky above—faded into the background, leaving only the two of them, connected in this quiet, intimate moment.

When Rand pulled back, he kept his hand around hers, his thumb gently rubbing the back of her hand. "Food or swim first?" he asked with a quiet smile.

An idea suddenly came to her, a ridiculous and risky thought, one that made her glance between the river and Rand’s waiting gaze. She had never felt this kind of raw freedom before, and the quiet space between her and Rand, the way his eyes followed her every movement, made the air crackle with something unspoken.

Elyndria stood for a moment, her breath shallow, feeling a wave of anticipation rush over her. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of her dress again, and she hesitated, the weight of her past life at the White Tower pressing against her for just a moment. But then, something inside her shifted, like a long-locked door opening for the first time.

She glanced at Rand, standing there so still, his patience almost palpable, his presence a steady anchor she didn’t even realize she needed. There was no pressure, only space for her to breathe. To be.

The thought crept in softly, unbidden but growing stronger with each passing second.

What would it feel like to just be?

To be free?

It had been years since she had allowed herself the space to do something for herself. She had never felt the freedom to act without thinking of the consequences, but in this moment, here by the river, with Rand beside her, the weight of those expectations seemed to lift just enough for her to take a deep breath.

Maybe it’s time, she thought, her heart pounding as the moment felt more and more like a lifeline. Maybe it’s time to let go of all the rules I’ve set for myself, and just be in this moment.

There was a quiet courage in her decision, a quiet power in the simple act of shedding the weight of her past. She didn’t want to overthink it, didn’t want to feel burdened by the past any longer.

She simply wanted to live.

To be present in this place, with Rand, with the freedom of the river and the earth beneath her.

Her hands trembled slightly as she began to pull the cords of her dress, her breath quickening in anticipation. The action wasn’t one of recklessness, but one of release. Slowly, the fabric of her dress fell, pooling around her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but a thin slip that reached just above her knees. Her hands shook, but it wasn’t from fear. It was from the exhilaration of doing something for herself. Something that had been locked away for far too long.

Rand didn’t immediately understand what was happening, his expression one of quiet confusion at first. But as the realization dawned, his eyes widened, his body tense as though struggling to keep himself grounded. He didn’t speak, but his gaze didn’t leave her. There was no judgment there, no leer just quiet reverence, as if he was witnessing something deeply personal, something raw and real.

In that moment, Elyndria didn’t feel exposed or vulnerable in the way she thought she might. She felt seen, admired in a way that filled her with warmth and strength.

The power of the moment washed over her. This wasn’t about him looking at her; it was about her standing there, free from the burdens she had carried for so long. And as she stepped backward, her breath catching in her chest, she could feel his gaze, but it wasn’t objectifying. It made her feel more alive, more powerful, more herself than she ever had before.

Without looking back, Elyndria turned away, stepping into the river.

The cool water surged around her ankles, washing over her with a sense of calm she hadn’t known she’d needed. Her heart beat faster as she waded deeper, the weight of the world dissolving with each step into the flow of the river. She smiled, the tension that had gripped her body for so long slowly melting away.

Then, with a swift movement, she dove into the river, the cold water enveloping her in an instant. She kicked her legs, propelling herself forward, the coolness of the river a balm to her soul. When she surfaced again, she pushed her wet hair from her face, her eyes glancing back toward Rand.

He was standing on the shore, watching her, his gaze fixed on her every movement with an intensity that made her chest tighten in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it felt like a silent affirmation, a wordless understanding.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Elyndria didn’t feel watched in a way that made her nervous. She didn’t feel like an object to be scrutinized or measured. She felt seen, not just as a woman or someone with a title, but as Elyndria; whole and free. She let herself drift for a moment, floating on her back, staring up at the sky. The sun warmed her face while the chill of the water kept her grounded, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Elyndria felt completely at peace. It was the kind of peace she hadn’t known she was missing. Free from expectations, free from responsibilities, just existing in the moment.

She could still feel Rand’s gaze on her, even though she had her back to him now. But instead of making her feel exposed or uncomfortable, it grounded her. His presence was a comfort, an unspoken promise that she wasn’t alone in this newfound freedom.

After a few moments, Elyndria finally turned, swimming back toward the shore. Her movements were slow and measured, her body light with the energy of liberation, of being present for the first time in so long. When she reached the edge of the river, she saw Rand still standing there, his figure rooted in place as if waiting for her, unsure of what to do next but respecting her space. His eyes were filled with a mix of admiration and something softer, something warmer.

She smiled softly, her body still dripping, but feeling lighter than she had in ages.

“You coming in?” she asked, her voice playful but tinged with an undercurrent of something deeper. There was a softness to her tone that hadn’t been there before, a willingness to share this moment with him—not as a duty, but because she wanted to.

Elyndria watched with amusement as Rand looked down at himself and chuckled breathlessly, the soft sound of it making her smile.

He nodded, and she could see the shift in his energy, the way he was deciding to let go of whatever hesitation he had. Slowly, he began to undress, each movement deliberate, as if he was testing the waters of the vulnerability she had so easily embraced. First, he slipped off his shoes, then pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a muscular chest, taut with strength. His arms, lean yet defined, were the mark of someone who worked hard, someone who carried a quiet, powerful presence.

Finally, he slipped off his pants, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He stood there for a moment, his body slightly tense, his gaze shifting nervously to the ground. It was an expression Elyndria rarely saw on him, shyness.

There was something endearing about it, and it made her appreciate him even more. She admired his tall, lean frame, the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin as he moved. But what really captured her attention was his face; his intense blue eyes, the furrowed brow, and the slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Elyndria smiled softly at him, her gaze warm and unguarded. She saw the way he hesitated, unsure, before his eyes met hers again. The small gesture of reassurance from her was enough to calm him, and she could see the tension in his body start to ease.

But she wasn’t finished with her mischief just yet. With a flash of amusement in her eyes, Elyndria used the One Power, channeling the water around them. The stream of water rushed toward Rand, dousing him in an instant. He gasped, his eyes widening, before he shouted out in surprise.

Elyndria couldn’t contain her laughter, swimming away quickly to avoid the splashback of water. The coolness of the river hit her skin, but she was too caught up in the exhilaration of the moment to mind. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Rand shaking his head, water dripping from his hair, before he shouted after her.

“You’re so going to pay for that!” he called, his voice laced with mock indignation.

Without waiting for her to respond, Rand jumped into the water, sending a spray of droplets in all directions. Elyndria yelped with laughter, dodging his splashes, and the two of them were lost in the water. They splashed each other playfully, the sound of their laughter mixing with the rhythm of the river’s current, sometimes Elyndria was balanced on Rand’s shoulders, laughing all the while as he waded through the water beneath her, his strong arms supporting her effortlessly.

The warmth of the sun above them made the whole world feel alive, and time seemed to stretch endlessly as they enjoyed the simple joy of each other’s company.

---

They stayed in the water until their fingers wrinkled and their skin started to prickle from the cold. Eventually, they waded back to the shore, their bodies slick with water, breathless from the fun. Rand helped Elyndria out of the river, and they spread out the blanket for their picnic.

As they ate, Elyndria noticed the way Rand’s eyes would occasionally wander to her chest. Her slip, still damp from the water, clung to her skin like a second layer, and while she tried to ignore it, a small part of her wanted to blush and shrink away. But she pushed that feeling aside, trying to remain confident in the face of his gaze.

After all, this wasn’t about being self-conscious. It was about enjoying the moment, about feeling free.

As they ate, they spoke casually, laughing and teasing each other about their splashing contest. Elyndria pretended not to notice the way Rand’s eyes sometimes flickered back to her, but she couldn’t help the way her heart beat a little faster when she caught him staring. Even though his gaze wasn’t intrusive or disrespectful, it made her feel exposed in a way she didn’t quite know how to handle.

Still, she kept her posture relaxed, smiling as though nothing bothered her, even if she felt a small blush creep up her neck.

Once they finished eating, they relaxed on the blanket, the sun’s warmth drying their bodies. The air was quiet, save for the gentle rustling of the trees and the distant sound of the river’s current. Elyndria closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the sun soothe her, and felt Rand shift beside her. She could feel the subtle pressure of his body near hers, the comfort of his presence grounding her in this moment of peacefulness.

The world felt so far away in this bubble of serenity, and she let herself drift, the soft scent of the earth and the quiet rhythm of Rand’s breathing lulling her into a calm, almost meditative state.

As Elyndria lay there, eyes closed, letting the warmth of the sun soak into her skin, a strange sensation ghosted across her hand; something featherlight, almost ticklish. Her brows furrowed slightly, and she blinked her eyes open, adjusting to the golden light filtering through the trees.

Rand was lying on his side beside her, his elbow propped against the blanket, a small wildflower between his fingers. It was a simple thing, one of the tiny blossoms that dotted the grass around them. He must have plucked it absentmindedly.

Her breath hitched slightly as she watched him, as his fingers traced the flower along the back of her hand, gliding so gently that it barely felt real. He must have sensed her eyes on him because he glanced up, his gaze locking onto hers for a moment—steady, searching. There was something unreadable in his expression, something quiet yet intense, as though he were trying to understand something even he hadn’t put into words yet.

Then, slowly, his gaze dropped back down, and he returned his focus to the flower. He let it drift over her skin, skimming along the sensitive curve of her wrist, trailing up the length of her forearm in a slow, languid motion. Elyndria shivered. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch, heat blooming beneath her skin despite the cool air.

The flower continued its path, grazing over her shoulder, brushing along the delicate line of her collarbone. Her pulse quickened, her breath shallowed, and she knew Rand could see it and could feel the shift in the air between them. He didn’t rush. His movements were careful, deliberate, as though he was exploring something fragile, something precious.

Then the petals grazed the side of her neck. Elyndria exhaled sharply, her lips parting as warmth pooled deep in her stomach. The flower’s path was unbearably slow as it traveled upward, up, up until it hovered just over her lips.

Her breath caught.

The delicate petals barely touched her mouth, but she felt them all the same, a soft whisper against her skin. Her lips instinctively puckered slightly, brushing against the flower as Rand held it there, lingering in that heated, silent moment.

She heard him swallow.

The tension coiled between them, thick and heavy like the air before a storm. Elyndria’s fingers twitched at her side, uncertain, her heart pounding against her ribs. Then, as if acting on instinct, she reached forward, her hand closing gently around his wrist, halting his movements.

Rand stilled.

Their eyes met; locked, unblinking. She could see the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, the slight parting of his lips as he breathed her in. And then, before she could even think, before either of them could rationalize what was happening, her gaze flickered to his lips. Something in Rand shifted. Without hesitation, without overthinking, he moved. In one swift motion, he leaned forward, closing the space between them, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss.

It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t uncertain.

It was warm and insistent, filled with the tension that had been simmering between them for too long. Elyndria gasped softly against his lips, her fingers tightening around his wrist as heat surged through her. She felt the roughness of his palm against her skin, the way his free hand came up to cup her face, anchoring her to this moment. And then she melted. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she kissed him back, letting herself get lost in the sensation, in the way Rand's breath mingled with hers, in the way his lips moved against hers. Slow at first, as though savoring the feel of her, then deeper, more urgent.

The world around them faded. The river, the trees, the warmth of the sun—none of it mattered. There was only this, only them, and the feeling of finally stepping into something inevitable.

Rand’s kiss deepened, his fingers sliding into her hair, threading through the damp strands. Elyndria let out a soft sigh, tilting her head to meet him fully, to press closer. The world felt smaller in that moment, like everything had narrowed down to the warmth of his lips, the press of his hand against her cheek, the slow, deliberate way he was learning her.

She could feel his restraint, the way he held himself back even as his grip tightened ever so slightly. Rand was always careful, always measured. Even now, when everything between them was unraveling, he was still holding onto the last thread of control.

Elyndria wasn’t sure if she wanted him to.

Her free hand lifted, pressing lightly against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her fingertips, strong and steady, but quick. His skin was still warm from the sun, his muscles tensed beneath her touch. The realization sent a shiver through her. He was nervous. The thought was oddly endearing, considering Rand was usually the composed one. She smiled slightly against his lips, then pulled back just enough to look at him.

Rand’s eyes were dark, his breathing uneven. His gaze flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, as if he were memorizing this moment, committing it to memory like something precious.

She swallowed, her own breath catching as she reached up to trace a single finger along his jawline. He leaned into her touch almost imperceptibly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them crackled with something unspoken, something raw and fragile.

Then Rand exhaled, a shaky, breathless sound, and let out a quiet chuckle. He dropped his forehead against hers, shaking his head slightly as if laughing at himself.

“Well,” he murmured, voice rough, “I didn’t plan on that happening.”

Elyndria arched a brow, amusement flickering in her gaze. “You make it sound like a mistake.”

Rand pulled back just enough to look at her properly, his lips twitching. “Not a mistake,” he admitted. “Just... unexpected.”

Elyndria smirked, tilting her head playfully. “You didn’t see this coming?”

Rand huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe I did,” he admitted. “But if I had thought about it too much, I might have talked myself out of it.”

She raised a brow. “And why would you do that?”

Rand’s gaze softened, his fingers still resting lightly against her cheek. He searched her face for a moment, his expression unreadable, before murmuring, “Because I’ve never wanted to risk losing you.”

Something in Elyndria’s chest clenched, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the sun. She held his gaze, letting the weight of his words settle over her.

“You’re not going to lose me,” she whispered.

Rand didn’t answer right away. Instead, his thumb brushed gently over her cheekbone, as if trying to convince himself of that truth.

The silence stretched between them, not awkward, but full.

Then, finally, Rand let out a breath and sat back slightly, giving them both space to breathe. He ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking his head with a lopsided grin. “So... are you going to use the One Power to drench me again, or was that a one-time thing?”

Elyndria laughed, the tension breaking like a wave receding from shore. She propped herself up on her elbows, smirking. “I don’t know... I did enjoy watching you squeal like a startled cat.”

Rand scoffed, eyes narrowing playfully. “I did not squeal.”

“You definitely did.”

Rand shook his head, but there was amusement in his eyes. “Careful, Elyndria. If you start a war, you better be ready for retaliation.”

Elyndria grinned, leaning in slightly. “Oh? And what exactly do you plan to do?”

Rand didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze flickered downward for the briefest second just enough for Elyndria to realize her slip was still clinging to her like a second skin. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but she refused to let it shake her confidence. She tilted her chin up defiantly, daring him to say something.

Rand only smirked, reaching for a piece of fruit from their picnic and taking a slow, deliberate bite. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Elyndria rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile as she lay back down, letting the warmth of the afternoon settle over them once more.

The golden afternoon melted into a lazy twilight, the sky painted in strokes of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent.

The river still hummed its quiet song, and the air had cooled just enough to be comfortable. Elyndria stretched, feeling the pull of her muscles, the lingering dampness of her slip against her skin, and the warmth of Rand beside her. He hadn’t moved much since their teasing exchange, though she could sense the way his body remained attuned to hers—like a string drawn taut, waiting to be plucked.

She turned her head, watching him from beneath her lashes. He was staring up at the sky, lost in thought, though the flicker of a smirk still played at the corner of his lips.

“Regretting your choices yet?” she murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

Rand turned his head toward her, eyebrows lifting. “Which choices?”

Elyndria smirked. “Letting me drag you into the river. Letting me kiss you.” She paused, her tone playful but laced with something softer. “Or maybe just letting me win.”

Rand exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “You didn’t win.”

She arched a brow. “Oh? You’re still wet, aren’t you?”

“I seem to recall tackling you into the water.”

She grinned. “A desperate attempt to reclaim your dignity. I’m not convinced.”

Rand rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and something deeper. “You always do this, don’t you?”

Elyndria tilted her head. “Do what?”

He reached out, trailing his fingers lightly over the back of her hand. It was a soft touch, almost absentminded, but it sent warmth curling through her all the same. “You push, you tease, but when you look at me like that…” His fingers curled slightly, capturing her hand in his. “It makes me forget how to breathe.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, at the quiet honesty in them. She swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to say.

Rand must have noticed her hesitation because his smirk returned, though this time, it was gentler.

“Careful, Elyndria,” he murmured. “You might actually lose this time.”

She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the way her pulse betrayed her. “Lose what?”

Rand leaned in slightly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Control.”

Elyndria inhaled sharply, and before she could think of a retort, he was already shifting, his fingers tightening around hers as he pulled her closer. The air between them thickened, charged with something that neither of them had the words for. Rand’s free hand ghosted over her arm, trailing up to her shoulder before settling lightly against the damp fabric of her slip.

His touch wasn’t demanding, wasn’t rushed. Just deliberate. Testing. Waiting.

Elyndria could barely breathe. She was so used to control; to keeping people at a distance, to playing with words and teasing with intent. But with Rand, the game felt different.

He wasn’t chasing her.

He was waiting for her to meet him halfway.

And for once, she didn’t want to run.

Slowly, she reached up, her fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair. Rand exhaled shakily at the touch, and it sent a thrill through her.

“Rand,” she murmured, his name feeling different on her lips now—softer, weighted with something she wasn’t quite ready to name.

He didn’t respond with words.

He closed the distance instead, his lips capturing hers once more but this time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was slow, deep, unhurried, like the river itself. Pulling her in, surrounding her, swallowing her whole.

Elyndria sighed against his mouth, her body pressing instinctively closer, her hands sliding over his shoulders, feeling the strength there, the warmth of his sun-kissed skin. Rand groaned softly, his grip tightening on her waist, his fingers splaying across the small of her back. His body was solid against hers, grounding her even as he made her feel weightless.

She had never felt like this before. Not just wanted, but cherished. The thought sent a shiver through her, and Rand must have felt it because he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.

His breathing was unsteady, matching hers. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “And I will.”

Elyndria swallowed, her fingers still tangled in his hair. She met his gaze, the flickering light of dusk casting shadows across his face. She could stop this. She could tease him, deflect, make some playful remark and put distance between them again.

But she didn’t want to.

Instead, she smiled; small, but certain.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

And Rand didn’t.

Chapter 16: Walking on a tightrope

It had been two months since their kiss by the river, and everything between them had changed.

Rand and Elyndria were closer now. Not just in body, but in the way that truly mattered. There was a trust between them, a deep, unshakable connection that had grown with every whispered conversation, every lingering touch, every moment spent in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

They had carved out a life for themselves here, in the ever-moving, ever-changing heartbeat of Foregate. It wasn’t the kind of life either of them had planned, but it was theirs. They worked when they needed to, took odd jobs where they could, blending into the chaos of the city, making themselves just another thread in the great, sprawling tapestry of its people. They had begun to treat Foregate like home because, in many ways, it had become just that.

They had rituals now.

Every Thursday night, they wandered the markets, picking through the wares, trading smiles with merchants who were starting to recognize them. They rarely bought much, but the act of weaving through the crowded stalls together had become something of a game. Elyndria would steal little bites of street food from Rand’s hands, and he would pretend to scold her, only to hand over the rest with a shake of his head and an indulgent smile.

On sunny days, when work didn’t call them away, they visited the riverbank where everything had first shifted between them. They would lie in the grass, staring at the sky, talking about nothing and everything. Sometimes they swam, sometimes they merely sat, their hands brushing idly as they lost themselves in the easy rhythm of each other’s company.

And then, there was their favorite ritual; the one that neither of them spoke of, but both of them craved the most.

The nights when they stayed in bed, limbs tangled beneath the sheets, fingers tracing slow, wandering paths over warm skin. They would whisper to each other for hours, sharing secrets, murmuring dreams that felt safe in the dark. Their hands never stopped moving, always exploring, always learning, as if memorizing each other was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Elyndria had never known such closeness. Such quiet, unshaken intimacy.

But tonight, something was different.

She had come home late, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavy on her shoulders, only to find Rand sitting at the edge of their shared bed, his back to her. The dim candlelight flickered across his bare skin, casting long shadows across the lean muscle of his back.

At first, she had smiled, ready to greet him as she always did until she noticed it.

His hair.

Gone.

She froze in the doorway, her stomach twisting painfully. “What did you do?”

Rand turned slightly at the sound of her voice, his blue eyes meeting hers, cautious but steady. He ran a hand over his now-bare scalp, as if testing the feeling of it. “It was too recognizable,” he said simply. “Too eye-catching.”

Elyndria stared at him, searching for the familiar flame-colored strands that had once fallen across his forehead, that she had twined around her fingers as they lay tangled together in bed. She loved his hair. She had loved the way it caught the light, the way it was his, fiery and untamed, like everything else about him.

And now, it was gone.

She swallowed, trying to ignore the sting of unexpected grief curling inside her. “You did this to protect us.” It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer.

Rand nodded. “If someone comes looking… if they remember a man with bright red hair, it’s one less thing to tie us to what we were before.” His voice was calm, practical. But there was something else in his expression; something uncertain, hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how she would react.

Elyndria exhaled slowly, stepping closer. She reached out, her fingers ghosting over his scalp, feeling the strange unfamiliarity of it beneath her touch.

“I just… I liked your hair,” she admitted, her voice softer now.

Rand’s lips twitched in the barest hint of amusement. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d be gutted about it.”

She huffed, smacking his shoulder lightly. “You had beautiful hair, Rand. I had plans for that hair.”

His laughter was quiet, warm, and some of the tightness in her chest eased at the sound of it. He caught her hand before she could pull away, bringing it to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to her palm. “It’ll grow back,” he murmured against her skin.

Elyndria sighed, shaking her head, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. “You’re lucky you’re handsome no matter what.”

Rand grinned, tugging her down onto the bed beside him. She let herself be pulled into his embrace, her fingers tracing absent patterns against his bare shoulder. “I’ll miss it,” she admitted, quieter this time.

His arms tightened around her, his breath warm against her hair. “I know.”

For a moment, they just lay there, pressed together in the candlelit quiet.

---

The tavern was as loud as ever, the heat of the kitchen and the chatter of patrons mixing in a heady cacophony. Elyndria moved between tables, offering smiles to the regulars, but all the while her mind was elsewhere; tired, her feet sore, and her thoughts weighed down by the heaviness of her shift.

Then, as she passed a table near the fire, she heard it.

“…Logain Albar, they say he’s in the sanitarium now. Gone mad, poor bastard.”

The words slipped into the air like a quiet thread, but to Elyndria, they struck with the force of a lightning bolt. She froze, her heart stuttering in her chest. The name. Logain Albar. The False Dragon. It reverberated through her like a cruel echo from the past, dragging her back to a time she’d desperately tried to bury. A sense of dread and familiarity swept over her, suffocating her with its weight.

Logain Albar...

Her breath caught, and for a moment, the noise of the tavern faded into a distant murmur. The patrons, the clinking mugs, the laughter. All of it became secondary as she felt the memories surge to the forefront of her mind. Logain Albar, the man who had killed Kerene, the war-general of Aes Sedai. Her Green Ajah sister. She wanted to run, to leave this place, but her feet were frozen to the ground. She moved closer to the men at the table, trying to listen without drawing attention to herself, her pulse quickening with every word.

“… they say he’s at the sanitarium,” one man murmured, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Gone mad. The Aes Sedai sent him there.”

Elyndria’s heart hammered in her chest as she leaned in just slightly, not daring to move too much. The sanitarium. The place where the broken and the lost were sent. Where Rand worked. She felt the cold grip of fear tighten around her chest as she heard more.

“Logain’s the last person I’d expect to crack under pressure,” the second man replied, shaking his head. “But they say he’s raving now, talking about glory and destruction.”

A sickening chill ran down Elyndria’s spine. She had always known Logain was dangerous, but hearing that he was now completely broken—mad—struck a raw nerve inside her. He had once been a symbol of power, a force that had threatened to tear the world apart. Now, he was nothing more than a broken man, raving in a sanitarium, trapped in his own madness. But the more she thought about it, the more the realization hit her.

He was here. In Foregate.

Her mind raced, panic flooding her thoughts. What if they come for me? Her stomach churned at the thought of the Aes Sedai finding her, of her sisters coming to investigate Logain. What if they were already here, watching? What if they had already noticed her, waiting for the right moment to strike?

Elyndria's breath hitched, and she fought to calm herself, pulling away from the table before anyone noticed her presence. But even as she moved away, the weight of the conversation clung to her like a shadow. The rest of her shift passed in a blur, her body moving on autopilot as she served patrons and cleaned tables. But her mind never stopped churning, her thoughts constantly returning to Logain Albar. The False Dragon. He was here, in Foregate, and it was only a matter of time before her past caught up with her.

When her shift finally ended, Elyndria’s feet felt like lead, and her exhaustion was overwhelming. But it wasn’t just the physical strain that drained her. It was the dread that gnawed at her insides, that unease that had settled into her bones. She needed to get out of this place, away from the noise, away from the memories.

She hurried through the streets of Foregate, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders as if it could protect her from the weight of her thoughts. The city, once so familiar, now felt foreign, oppressive. Every shadow seemed to hide danger, every corner held a secret. Logain’s presence was a dark cloud hanging over her, and she couldn’t escape it. She needed to reach the inn, to find some semblance of comfort in the familiar.

When she stepped through the door, the flickering light from the hearth greeted her, but it was the sight of Rand and Selene sitting together that made her stomach twist. Selene’s laughter was like a knife in her chest, the easy way she leaned toward Rand, the way she smiled at him. Elyndria’s skin prickled with jealousy, a bitter taste rising in her throat. Selene was everything Elyndria wasn’t—tall, dark features and air of easy confidence—and she had no qualms about flirting with Rand.

Elyndria forced herself to move closer, her eyes lingering for a moment too long on the pair before she cleared her throat and spoke up.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her. “But I need to steal Rand for a moment.”

Selene’s gaze flicked to her, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, but she smiled nonetheless, a slow, knowing grin that made Elyndria’s heart race with something she couldn’t quite name.

“Of course,” Selene said, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Don’t let me be in your way.”

Elyndria’s skin tingled with the urge to say something sharp, something biting. But she held it in, turning quickly to sit in the chair where Selene had just been. Rand looked up at her, his expression immediately softening with concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low, his brow furrowing.

Elyndria exhaled, forcing herself to stay calm. “I overheard something at the tavern,” she began, her eyes flicking to the door as if expecting someone to burst through it. “Logain Albar. They say he’s here, in the city. At the sanitarium.”

Rand’s face darkened immediately, his posture shifting as he absorbed her words. “The False Dragon?” His voice was barely a whisper, and Elyndria could see the understanding flash across his face.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “He’s gone mad. The Aes Sedai sent him there.”

For a long moment, Rand said nothing, his mind clearly working through the implications of her words. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. “That’s bad.”

Elyndria nodded, her heart heavy with dread. Bad didn’t even begin to cover it. Logain’s presence in Foregate meant that the Aes Sedai were close, and if they were looking for him, they might come for her, too. She couldn’t outrun her past, no matter how far she tried to run.

“I heard them talking about it,” Elyndria continued. “They said he was spouting nonsense about glory and destruction. He’s broken. Completely.”

Rand’s eyes darkened, and he leaned forward, taking her hand in his. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly, but there was an edge of concern in his voice that made her stomach tighten further. Elyndria nodded, though the words didn’t soothe her. The truth was, she wasn’t sure what they could do. If the Aes Sedai were visiting Logain, what would stop them from coming for her or Rand?

And as if on cue, she felt a cold prickling along her spine. She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Selene’s across the room. The other woman was standing by the bar, her gaze fixed on them. The smile that curled at the edges of her lips seemed almost knowing, too perfect to be genuine. Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling that Selene was watching them more closely than she should have been.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, and Elyndria felt a chill run through her. She didn’t trust Selene, not one bit. There was something off about her. Something... dangerous.

Selene tilted her head slightly, as if acknowledging Elyndria’s suspicion, before turning away, moving to another table with a grace that only seemed to add to the coldness in Elyndria’s gut. She swallowed hard, focusing back on Rand, who was watching her closely. His expression had darkened, but his concern for her was clear. The storm was coming, and it was closing in on them faster than they could prepare.

---

The night stretched on, silent and heavy, as Elyndria lay in bed, her thoughts racing in a whirlwind that refused to be calmed. She could feel Rand’s presence beside her, his warmth seeping into her skin as he held her close, but there was no comfort in it tonight.

No lingering, no playful touches. Tonight, it was only the weight of his arms around her, holding her tightly. As if he let go, she might slip away, lost into the chaos of the world once again.

Elyndria curled into him, her body tense with the same restless energy that had gripped her since the moment she had overheard Logain's name in the tavern. She didn't dare pull away, didn’t dare let go of the fragile sense of safety his embrace offered, even though her mind was a storm of doubt and fear.

What were they supposed to do now?

She couldn’t shake the feeling that the world was closing in around them. Foregate, the place they had come to think of as their home, suddenly felt like a cage. There was no place that hadn’t been touched by the Aes Sedai, the White Cloaks, or dark creatures lurking just out of sight. No place to run to where they might be safe.

Elyndria's heart pounded in her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to escape the overwhelming sense of helplessness gnawing at her. Should they leave? Where would they go? Every thought about the future felt like an endless loop of hopelessness, spiraling into an abyss.
She turned her face into the crook of Rand’s neck, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. She didn’t know how to answer the questions swirling inside her. The fear of the possible Aes Sedai’s pursuit was still fresh, like a shadow clinging to her every step.

The thought of which Aes Sedai might come for them, if they found her and Rand, made her shudder. She hoped it wasn’t someone she knew, someone who would look at her with that cold, calculating stare. She couldn’t bear it. Not Saerel. Not Alanna. She couldn’t stand the thought of them finding her, of them treating her like a stray dog, or worse someone who had abandoned the Tower.

And what if they did come for her? What if they tried to take her back? She didn’t know if she could fight them, especially not if it came to that. The thought of being forced to choose between loyalty to them and to Rand, between the life she had left behind and the one she had tried to build with him, made her stomach twist with dread. She didn’t want to fight them. But if it came to it, if it meant losing him—no.

She couldn’t bear it. Not after everything they had been through.

Her thoughts drifted to Rand. What about him? What would happen if they found out who he was? Liandrin would be all too eager to have him in her grasp. Elyndria shuddered again, burying her face deeper into his chest. The Red Ajah had no mercy. They wouldn’t hesitate to use him, to break him, just like they had done to so many before. And the idea of them touching him, hurting him, was too much. She wouldn’t let them.

She held him tighter, as though the force of her grip could shield him from the inevitable storm that loomed. The world was coming for them, and there was no escaping it. But as long as she had him, as long as they were together, she would fight. She would keep him safe.

And yet, even as she held him close, uncertainty gnawed at her. How long could they stay like this? How long could they outrun the tide that was sure to break over them? It felt like they were standing on the edge of a cliff, and with every breath, the ground beneath them was eroding, crumbling away.

“I don’t want to leave,” she whispered into the darkness, the words barely a breath.

Rand’s arms tightened around her, pulling her closer still, as though he could absorb some of her fear, carry some of the weight for her. His presence was a quiet comfort, but Elyndria knew there were no easy answers, no perfect safety to be found. Her body ached with the weight of everything she feared. The Aes Sedai. The White Cloaks. Logain’s shadow. The past she had hoped to outrun was pressing in on her again, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it at bay.

“I won’t let them take us, if they visit Logain and notice who we are.” Rand’s voice broke through the silence, low and resolute.

Elyndria’s chest tightened. She nodded against him, though the fear still gripped her tightly. She didn’t know what would come next. She didn’t know what the future held, and it terrified her. But one thing she knew for certain was that she wouldn’t let them take him. Not while she had breath in her body. And perhaps, in the end, that was the only thing that mattered. Together. They would fight, whatever came.

Eventually, exhaustion settled in, and Elyndria felt her muscles grow heavy, the storm of her thoughts slowing, though they didn’t stop entirely. She lay there, in Rand’s arms, restless but somehow more tethered than she had felt in hours.

It was the only thing she could hold onto tonight—the only thing that kept her grounded as the darkness of the world threatened to swallow them whole. And even as the night stretched long, she whispered to herself—we’ll figure this out. They had to. They had to. But tonight, sleep was a distant hope, and her heart would never stop racing.

---

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the window shutters, casting soft shadows across the room. Elyndria awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside, but her mind was far from the peaceful morning routine she had once enjoyed. The events of the previous night still lingered, like the scent of a storm that hadn’t quite passed.

Rand was still asleep beside her, his body pressed against hers, his grip still tight as though he couldn’t let go, even in his sleep. For a moment, she closed her eyes and simply listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing. There was comfort in it, something constant amidst the chaos. But that comfort was fleeting, replaced by the cold knot of worry in her chest.

She carefully shifted, trying not to disturb him, and sat up on the edge of the bed. The warmth of his body seemed to leave her as she stood, and the cool morning air bit at her skin. Her mind was already turning, running through the possibilities of the day and how they would navigate this new, growing threat. How much longer could they hide from the forces closing in around them? How long before someone—an Aes Sedai, a White Cloak, or worse, a Dark One’s agent—came looking for them?

She took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time to fall into despair. She had to focus, to stay grounded in the here and now. She had a plan, and she would make it work. But even as she tried to steel herself, the weight of the unknown pressed against her, suffocating her thoughts.

The day ahead would be hard, that much was certain. She could feel it in her bones. The storm that had started the night before wasn’t over. It was only just beginning.

Elyndria made her way over to the small window and peeked out, trying to gather some semblance of control. The city of Foregate was waking up around her. The people moving through the narrow streets, the soft rumble of wagons and carts as merchants began to set up for the day. There was life in the city, life that seemed so far removed from the dangers they faced.

She was startled by a soft groan from the bed. Rand was stirring, shifting beneath the blanket before he slowly opened his eyes. His gaze met hers, and there was a moment of quiet understanding between them, as if they both knew the weight of the world was already pressing in on them, even at the start of this new day.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but still tinged with the same quiet strength that had gotten them through so much already.

"Morning," Elyndria replied softly, giving him a faint smile. It was all she could muster, the smile not quite reaching her eyes as the weight of the situation remained heavy on her chest.

Rand sat up, running a hand over his head, and looked at her. “You didn’t sleep well last night.”

She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. They both knew why. “I keep thinking about what I heard,” she said finally, her voice low, almost a whisper.

“Logain,” Rand said, his tone grave. “I can’t believe he’s here.”

Elyndria closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “It doesn’t feel real. But it is. And if the other Aes Sedai are already here… they’ll find us eventually, won’t they?”
Rand didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at her, his expression darkening.

She could see the wheels turning in his mind, the same worries and fears that kept her awake the night before. But she also saw the determination, the drive that had kept him going through everything. That made him the man he was. “We’ll have to leave, won’t we? If they come.” she said, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

Rand nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as he thought of their options. “If we stay here, they’ll find us. It’s only a matter of time.” He paused, looking out the window as if searching for answers in the streets below. “But where would we go? The world is a big place, but it feels smaller every day. Every place has something dangerous—White Cloaks, Aes Sedai, Shadowspawn, Darkfriends. There’s no safety anymore.”

Elyndria felt the words weigh heavy on her heart. She’d known it before, but hearing Rand say it out loud made it feel more real. There was nowhere they could hide for long. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t keep running, keep searching for somewhere, anywhere, that might offer a sliver of peace.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said softly, even though the certainty she once had felt fragile now. “We have to.”

Rand met her gaze again, his eyes steady but filled with an understanding of the weight they both carried. “Together,” he said simply.

Elyndria nodded, the corner of her lips lifting slightly, but it wasn’t a smile. It was more of a shared agreement—a silent pact that no matter how bad things got, they would face it side by side.

She could hear the sounds of the city beginning to stir outside their small room; the chatter of people, the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchens, the scuffle of feet on cobblestone. The noise seemed to grow louder as the day moved forward, but inside the room, a quiet stillness remained. For a few moments, the world outside could wait. But only for a moment.

Rand stood up, his frame filling the space, and walked over to where Elyndria stood by the window. He stood behind her for a moment, his presence solid and steady.

Without a word, he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, a silent gesture of reassurance, of strength. “We’ll make it through this,” he said, his voice low but filled with conviction. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Elyndria didn’t respond immediately, but she leaned back into him, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace. The world outside may have been closing in on them, but for this moment, at least, she had him. And that was enough. Together, they would figure it out. Together, they would keep moving forward, no matter how uncertain the path.

The weight of the world loomed just beyond their door, waiting for them to make their next move.

---

The days stretched on, each one passing slowly but steadily, like the current of the river beside them. The tension that had hung in the air since Logain's arrival began to fade, though never completely. They had become more accustomed to the quiet wariness that lingered in their every movement.

There was still a habit of looking over their shoulders as they walked through the crowded streets of Foregate, as if the shadows might be hiding eyes that watched their every step. But as the days passed, the visits to Logain at the sanitarium remained absent of Aes Sedai, and for the first time in a while, Elyndria and Rand felt a measure of relief.

They found solace by the river. It had become their refuge, a place where they could lay on the grass, side by side, and pretend that the world beyond their small patch of calm was not closing in on them. It was peaceful there, the sound of the water rushing over rocks almost like a lullaby.

Here, the threat of Logain and the forces of the White Tower seemed distant, and for a brief time, they could breathe. Today, like many others, they sat together by the river. Elyndria lay with her head in Rand’s lap, her eyes closed as the sun warmed her skin. She felt his fingers weave gently through her hair, his touch tender but distracted. There was a weight in the air today, something unspoken that lingered between them, heavy and thick.

Rand finally broke the silence. His voice was quiet, but there was a seriousness in his tone that made Elyndria’s heart beat a little faster.

“I want you to help me learn how to channel.”

Elyndria’s eyes fluttered open, blinking in surprise. She had expected many things from him—questions, doubts, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders—but this was not what she had anticipated.

“You… want me to help you?” she asked, still processing the words.

Rand sighed heavily, the sound carrying the weight of frustration. He didn’t meet her gaze immediately but instead stared out at the flowing water in front of them. The river was both calming and constant, yet in it, he saw the same tumult of emotions that churned within him.

“I didn’t want to risk it,” he admitted quietly. “But after these days of constantly looking over our shoulders, I realized… I won’t be strong enough to protect us if someone finds us. Not with just a sword. Not with just my fists.”

Elyndria’s hand instinctively found its way to his knee, her fingers resting gently there. She could feel the tightness of his muscles beneath her touch, the tension that had gripped him for so long. Her heart ached, knowing the weight of the burden he carried.

“I will protect us,” she said softly, her voice steady, but there was a quiet desperation beneath it, as if she were trying to reassure both him and herself.

Rand’s eyes flickered to her, but his expression remained pained. “And if something happens to you? If you’re trapped or surrounded?” His voice broke slightly, the vulnerability he rarely showed coming through. “I won’t be strong enough to save you. There’s only so much my blade can do against the kind of enemies we might face. And even then, I’m not a sword master.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened at his words, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say. The idea that he might not be able to protect her, that the one thing he was usually so certain about, his strength, might fail them, was a bitter thought to swallow. But she knew, deep down, that he was right. He couldn’t do it alone.

She sat up, turning to face him, her eyes searching his. The weight of what he was asking for sank in. Elyndria took a deep breath, her thoughts swirling. She had always known Rand’s strength, his fierce will to protect those he loved. But for him to channel was a risk. One that they couldn’t take lightly. But in the silence that followed, Elyndria realized something. She had always been by his side, hadn’t she? From the beginning. In the darkest moments, she had never left. She had fought for him, protected him when she could, and now… maybe it was her turn to help him in a way she had never imagined.

“I’ll help you,” she said finally, her voice steady, even if her heart still trembled at the thought of what this could mean. “But we’ll take it slow. We’ll be careful. And we’ll learn together.”

Rand’s expression softened at her words, and for a brief moment, Elyndria saw the man beneath the weight of the world—a man who wasn’t just fighting for survival, but for something far more precious: their future.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his hand reaching for hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. Elyndria squeezed his hand in return, her heart a mixture of resolve and fear. They had no idea what lay ahead, but they had each other. And that was a start.

The days that followed were filled with the quiet weight of unspoken decisions. The river continued its constant flow, never pausing, never faltering, much like their lives had come to be. There was an underlying tension in the air that neither of them could shake. It wasn’t just the lingering fear of Logain or the threat of the White Tower that weighed on them, but the new path they had chosen to walk down.

Elyndria couldn’t help but wonder if she was making the right choice in teaching Rand to channel. Every fiber of her being screamed that it was dangerous, reckless, even but her heart ached at the thought of him being powerless, especially with what they had already faced.

Rand was not one to sit idle when there was something he could do, something he could control. He was determined to learn, to find a way to protect both of them, and that determination was something Elyndria could never have the heart to deny. Each time they spoke about it, his resolve only grew stronger, and her own hesitance began to melt away.

They were in this together, after all. And in the quiet moments when she looked at him, she saw something more than a man who was learning to channel. She saw the same man she had begun to care for, one who would do anything to keep them safe.

The lessons began gradually, much slower than Elyndria would have liked. They spent time by the river, where Rand could practice drawing on the One Power without the distractions of the city. Elyndria guided him with quiet patience, showing him how to reach for the source, how to feel the ebb and flow of the Power without letting it consume him.

It was not easy. Every time he attempted, there was a tension in his body as he tried to control the raw energy within him, an energy he had no real understanding of. The first few times, Elyndria had to pull him back when the Power nearly overwhelmed him, a reminder of just how dangerous the path they were walking truly was.

“Feel it, Rand,” she whispered softly one day as they sat beside the river, the sounds of the water crashing over the rocks echoing in the stillness. “Don’t force it. Just reach for it, let it come to you.”

Rand’s brow furrowed, his hands twitching slightly as if unsure of the next step. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He could feel something there, a presence deep within him, but every time he reached for it, it seemed to slip just out of his grasp.

“I can feel it,” he said, his voice strained. “But it’s… it’s not like what I thought it would be.”

Elyndria nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. “The One Power isn’t something you can control by force. It’s like the river—sometimes it’s calm, other times it’s fierce. But it’s always there. You have to learn to work with it, not against it.” She moved closer to him, her hand resting gently on his arm. The connection between them was strong—stronger than anything else in that moment. It was a reminder that no matter how difficult the path ahead might be, they would face it together. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she added quietly. “I’ll be here, every step of the way.”

Rand opened his eyes and turned to her, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. “I know. I just wish I didn’t have to ask you for help. I should be the one protecting you.”

Elyndria shook her head, her fingers lightly brushing his cheek. “We protect each other, Rand. That’s what this is about.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension that had plagued him for so long seemed to dissipate. His resolve was still there, but it had shifted somehow, from desperation to something quieter, more grounded.

---

 

As the days turned into weeks, their routine began to shift. Rand’s lessons in the One Power continued, slow but steady, while they kept their distance from the city’s dangers. But even in the safety of their small haven by the river, Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. They had no way of knowing when someone might find them, when the threat would come crashing down on them once more. She could feel the pull of fear in her gut, but she pushed it aside. She had to be strong for Rand, for them both.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky above turned a brilliant shade of pink and purple, Elyndria and Rand sat together by the river once more. Rand had made progress in his lessons, though not yet fully in control of the Power. He had learned to touch it, to hold it briefly, but there were still moments where it seemed to overwhelm him, and Elyndria could feel the tension in his body when that happened. She was proud of him for his determination, but she also knew how dangerous it was. She had to remind herself that they were doing this because there was no other choice.

The sky darkened into deep shades of violet and indigo, stars beginning to pierce through the fading light. The river reflected the dim glow of the moon, casting silver ripples across the water’s surface. Elyndria and Rand remained sitting by the bank, the air between them thick with unspoken thoughts.

Rand exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "It’s still not enough," he muttered, staring down at his hands. "I can touch it, I can hold it for a moment, but then it slips away like sand through my fingers."

Elyndria reached out, placing her hand over his. "That’s how it always is in the beginning," she reassured him. "You’re not meant to hold on to it too tightly, Rand. Saidin is a raging current—you don’t grip it, you guide it."

He glanced at her, skepticism and doubt flickering in his stormy gaze. "And what happens when I can’t guide it? When it guides me instead?"

Elyndria hesitated. She didn’t have an answer for that, not one that would ease his fear. She had been trained in the use of the One Power, raised in the Tower, and even she had seen how quickly power could consume those who wielded it. Rand was walking a knife’s edge, and she was leading him down it.

She squeezed his hand. "That’s why we do this together. You won’t be alone, Rand. I won’t let you lose yourself."

Rand held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. He turned his attention back to the river, watching the water move in a slow, steady rhythm. The sound was soothing, constant. He took a deep breath and let the tension in his shoulders ease slightly.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the night sounds; the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze, the distant hoot of an owl, the soft lapping of water against the shore. The night air was cool against Elyndria’s skin, the rhythmic sounds of the river a steady presence beside them.
Rand traced idle patterns in the dirt beside him.

After a long moment, he glanced at Elyndria. “What was it like?” he asked.

She tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “What was what like?”

“The Tower.” He hesitated, then added, “Learning to channel.”

She let out a slow breath. “What was the Tower like?” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “It was… relentless. They push you until there’s nothing left but the Power. At first, I fought it. I thought I could force it into submission, shape it to my will. But that’s not how saidar works.” She turned to look at him, the firelight catching in her eyes. “Saerel used to tell me I had strength. That my power was obvious from the moment I stepped into the Tower. But strength meant nothing if I couldn’t become one with it.”

Rand’s brow furrowed, his hand tensing slightly beneath hers. “Become one with it?”

Elyndria nodded. “It’s not about control, not in the way you think. Saidar isn’t something you seize—it’s something you embrace. If you reach for it too aggressively, it slips away. It’s like…” She paused, searching for the right words. “Like a current in the river. If you fight it, it pulls you under. But if you move with it, let it guide you, you can shape it into something beautiful.” Her voice grew softer. “When I finally stopped fighting and let it in, it was like greeting an old friend. A part of me that had been waiting, always there, just out of reach.”

She let her fingers drift idly over the grass, the memory settling deep in her chest. “Since then, I’ve never felt alone. The One Power is always with me, like a whisper in my blood, a presence that moves with me. It’s strange, feeling something so familiar and knowing you’ll never truly be without it.”

Rand’s expression darkened. “That’s not how it is for me.”

She turned to him, her breath catching at the sharpness in his voice.

“Saidin is nothing like that,” he continued, his fingers curling into the dirt. “You speak of letting the Power in, of moving with it. But when I reach for saidin, it fights me. Every time.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “It’s a raging storm, wild and untamed. If I don’t seize it, it will rip me apart.” His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. “I have to force it into submission, Elyndria. Every time.”

She watched him, the firelight casting shadows across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his features.

She had known, in theory, that the male half of the Power was different. That saidin was something raw and violent, a force that resisted control. But hearing him speak of it like this, seeing the strain it placed on him—it hurt.

She reached out, placing her hand over his, her voice gentle. “Then why do it, Rand?”

His laugh was bitter, short. “Because I have no choice.” He turned to her, something almost desperate in his eyes. “If I don’t learn, it will destroy me. But if I don’t use it, I won’t be strong enough to protect us.”

Her heart ached. She had always known that he would never let himself be powerless, but hearing the weight of it in his voice made her wish, just for a moment, that things could be different.

She squeezed his hand, grounding him. “I wish I could see what you see,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I imagine your weaves would be beautiful.”

Rand blinked, caught off guard. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wish I could see yours as well,” he muttered, almost shyly. “When you channel, it’s like… like watching you dance. Like an artist shaping something unseen.”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever described it like that before. She turned slightly, studying him, her fingers tracing small circles against his skin. “Rand…”

He didn’t meet her gaze, but she could see the faint flush in his cheeks. “It’s just… I don’t know. The way you move when you use the Power—it’s like it belongs to you completely. It’s effortless.” His voice was softer now. “It’s nothing like what I feel when I touch saidin. I feel like I’m wrestling something that wants to break me.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened. She wanted to tell him that he was strong enough, that she would never let him fall to it, but the words felt hollow. Instead, she held his hand tighter, anchoring him. “Then you’ll just have to be stronger than the storm.”

Rand finally looked at her, and for the first time that night, some of the tension in his shoulders eased. She didn’t know if they had found the right words, if anything she had said had helped. But in that moment, with their hands intertwined and the river whispering beside them, she knew that they weren’t alone. And maybe, for now, that was enough.

For three long weeks, Elyndria and Rand trained relentlessly. Every day, he wrestled with the raging force of saidin, fighting to bring it under control. It was a slow process, painfully slow, but he was learning. His grip on the Power no longer slipped as quickly, and sometimes, just sometimes, he could hold onto it long enough to weave something crude before it tried to consume him.

Elyndria guided him as best she could, but the truth gnawed at her. She couldn't see his weaves. Couldn't teach him in the way a man could. She could only offer guidance, grounding him when the power threatened to overtake him. And Rand knew it, too.

One afternoon, after a particularly difficult session by the river, he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his damp hair. "Maybe we should go to Logain," he said suddenly, staring out over the water.

Elyndria's stomach twisted. "What?"

"He's still at the sanitarium. He might be willing to help me," Rand continued, his tone cautious.

Elyndria's entire body tensed, her hands clenching at her sides. "No," she said, her voice sharper than she'd intended.

Rand turned to her, brow furrowing. "Elyndria—"

"No," she repeated, shaking her head. "I don't want you anywhere near him."

She could still remember the last time she had seen Logain—his hollow, haunted eyes, the weight of madness pressing in around him like a suffocating cloak. A man once brimming with arrogance and power, now broken, reduced to little more than a whisper of what he had been.

Rand sighed. "You think I’m going to end up like him?"

She met his gaze, feeling something twist in her chest. "I think you don’t need to see that right now," she admitted. "Not when you’re still learning to control it."

Rand held her stare for a long moment before nodding. "Alright," he said simply.

She let out a slow breath, relief washing over her. For now, at least, he would stay away from that darkness.

Chapter 17: The past has a way of coming back

By the end of the third week, Elyndria decided they needed a break.

"Tonight, we stop thinking about saidin," she told Rand firmly as they stood by the inn's small window. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of roasting meats and fresh bread from the marketplace. "Let’s rest, enjoy ourselves. We can eat something warm, listen to music. Just breathe."

Rand gave her a wry smile, leaning against the wooden frame. "You mean I get to buy you something sweet and pretend it's for me?"

She smirked. "Exactly."

With that, they made their way downstairs, stepping into the warm glow of lantern light. The common room was alive with quiet conversation, the occasional clink of mugs and laughter weaving through the air. They had almost reached the door when a voice called from behind the bar.

"Where are you two off to?"

Elyndria tensed before she even turned. Selene. She forced her expression to remain neutral as she looked over her shoulder.

Selene leaned lazily against the bar, her midnight black hair almost luminous in the candlelight, her pale eyes fixed on Rand, as always. Elyndria doubted the woman had ever truly cared about her presence. No, Selene's interest lay solely in Rand; where he was and what he was doing.

Rand, ever polite, gave a small smile.

"We've just been enjoying some swimming before the weather changes," he said easily. "But tonight, we're heading to the markets."

Selene's lips curved into a slow smile. "Oh, I do love the markets. It's been so long since I've been with good company."

Elyndria already knew what was coming before Rand spoke.

"Maybe you can come with us next time," he said with a shrug.

She barely managed to keep her irritation in check. Rand al’Thor, you utter fool.

Selene chuckled, tilting her head. "Yes, next time. I would love it."

Elyndria's jaw tightened as she turned back toward the door, pushing outside before she said something truly ungracious. The night air was cool against her skin, but it did little to temper the flickering annoyance curling in her chest.

They walked in silence for several steps before Rand nudged her shoulder lightly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said curtly, keeping her eyes on the path ahead.

Rand made a soft humming sound, his amusement barely concealed. "You're not jealous, are you?"

Elyndria stiffened, her stride quickening. "Be quiet."

Rand laughed. The deep, warm sound of it made her stomach twist, half in frustration, half in something she didn’t want to name.

"You have nothing to be jealous of," he said, voice still full of that insufferable amusement.

"Do not make me hit you Rand al’Thor," she snapped.

Before she could walk faster, Rand moved smoothly behind her. She barely had a moment to react before he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close against him as they continued forward in an awkward shuffle.

Her breath caught. His warmth enveloped her, his heartbeat steady against her back. His hands rested over her stomach, his arms locking her in place as if he had no intention of letting go.

"Rand," she said, her voice almost a warning.

He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling deeply, before his lips brushed against the crown of her head.

"You have nothing to worry about," he murmured against her hair.

Her heart pounded. She swallowed, feeling her pulse race, but before she could find the words to respond, he spoke again—so quietly, she almost thought she imagined it. "I love you."

Elyndria stumbled. Rand caught her effortlessly, his arms steady around her. She barely registered the way her breath came in uneven gasps, or the way her fingers had instinctively curled around his forearms, anchoring herself.

She had thought about those words. Wanted to say them before. But the fear of rejection had always held her back. Now, those three simple words unraveled something inside her, something she hadn't realized she'd been holding so tightly.

She let out a slow breath, resting her hands over his arms, her fingers tracing the fabric of his sleeves.

Finally, she whispered, "I love you too."

Rand exhaled softly against her hair, his body relaxing against hers as if he'd been waiting to hear those words for a long time.

They walked on like that, their movements slower, quieter. His arms remained around her, holding her close as the lantern-lit streets stretched before them, the world around them humming with quiet life.

For once, there were no battles to fight. No Power to wrestle into control. Just this. Just them.

The sounds of the marketplace grew louder as they neared, the scent of roasted meats and fresh bread mingling with the crisp night air. Stalls lined the narrow streets, their colorful banners swaying in the breeze, flickering lanterns casting golden pools of light on the cobblestone paths. Musicians played near the center of the square, the lilting sound of a flute dancing through the air, blending seamlessly with the rhythmic strumming of a lute.

Elyndria had always loved the market at night. It was alive in a way that daylight could never capture, humming with laughter, music, and the gentle murmur of voices bartering for goods. It was a world away from the harsh realities of their training, of the One Power and the weight it placed on both of them.

But tonight it felt different.

She was acutely aware of Rand beside her, of the warmth of his hand lingering close to hers as they moved through the crowd. Of the way his fingers occasionally brushed against hers; soft, fleeting touches that sent shivers up her spine.

She glanced up at him, finding his gaze already on her. Rand smiled, a small, quiet thing, but his eyes were soft. Her heart stumbled. It was still strange, hearing those words from him. I love you. She had never allowed herself to hope for them, not truly. Rand was a man burdened with something too great, too terrifying. And yet, here he was, looking at her as if she were the only thing in this crowded marketplace that mattered.

She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on something else.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him toward a nearby stall with steaming meat pies. “I’m starving.”

Rand chuckled, shaking his head as he let her drag him forward.

They purchased two meat pies, the rich, savory scent making Elyndria’s stomach growl in anticipation. She took a bite, sighing contentedly as the warmth of it spread through her. Rand grinned at her reaction, biting into his own with equal enthusiasm.

For a while, they simply wandered, letting the music guide them from one part of the market to another. They stopped at a stall selling sweet honeyed almonds, Rand buying a small pouch and handing it to her with a knowing look. She rolled her eyes but accepted them anyway, popping one into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

"You act like I don’t know all your weaknesses by now," he teased.

She arched a brow. "And what are your weaknesses, Rand al’Thor?"

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing over his expression before he answered. "You," he murmured.

Elyndria nearly choked on her almond.

Rand laughed, his shoulders shaking as he reached out, brushing a stray crumb from her lips with his thumb. She stilled, her breath catching at the gentle touch.

Light, how did he do this to her?

She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck. “You really have gotten insufferable.”

Rand grinned. "You love it."

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

---

 

They spent the next morning lingering in bed, hands grazing over each other's bodies as if they had never touched each other before. It felt different now, knowing their intimate touches now had the words, i love you, connected to each and every touch they made. It had taken a good amount of pleading from Elyndria to get Rand out of bed later on so they could visit the river again so they could practise their channeling.

He had been more interested in mapping her neck with his lips then getting out of bed. But she didn't regret it, not now as she channeled, just focusing on herself and her weaves, instead of hovering over Rand as he practiced using his saidin. It had been a long time since she let herself be one with her powers.

She inhaled deeply, letting the calm settle into her bones as she wove intricate strands of saidar, watching as glowing threads of air and fire wove together in delicate patterns before dissolving into the air. She had missed this. The freedom to use her power, to shape the world around her without restraint.

Rand was a short distance away, standing near the water’s edge, his focus entirely on saidin. She could feel the raw, burning intensity of it even if she couldn’t see his weaves; the sharp, unrelenting storm of male power. It was so different from her own. Where saidar was something to be embraced, to be guided like a river flowing through her, saidin was chaos, a force that had to be seized and put into submission. Rand was learning, slowly, but she knew he still struggled to control it.

She stole a glance at him, watching as he raised a hand, channeling. A rock near the river exploded into dust, the sheer force of the blast sending ripples across the water. Rand exhaled sharply, shaking his head in frustration.

Elyndria smiled faintly to herself before returning to her own work. The air around her hummed with power as she experimented, weaving threads of fire into intricate designs, then adding water and air to make them shimmer. She let herself become lost in the motion, in the steady rhythm of channeling, her thoughts growing distant.

That was her mistake.

A shadow fell over her, and before she could react, something huge reached for her. Her body moved before her mind caught up. Years of training, of battle instincts honed to a razor’s edge, had her twisting away just as something massive swiped at the space where she had been sitting.

But the ground was uneven. Her balance wavered. She stumbled, feet tangling beneath her as she hit the earth hard, her breath punched from her lungs. And then she looked up.

A Trolloc.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, a sickening wave of fear clawing up her spine. The beast loomed over her, massive and grotesque, its twisted blend of human and animal features illuminated in the fading light. Pig-like tusks jutted from its snarling mouth, and its yellowed eyes burned with mindless hunger. Elyndria's mind stuttered. It had been so long since she’d seen one up close. Too long. She had gotten used to the safety of life with Rand, the illusion of normalcy. But the Shadow had found them.

The Trolloc raised its weapon.

Before she could even think to move, a voice roared across the riverbank.

"Elyndria!"

A shockwave of raw power burst through the air.

The Trolloc didn’t just die; it disintegrated, its massive form blasted into nothing but ash and dust in the space of a heartbeat. The force of it sent a gust of hot wind rushing over Elyndria, her hair whipping around her face. The silence that followed was deafening. Her breath came in short, shaky gasps, her limbs still frozen in the moment of terror.

Then hands were on her; strong, urgent.

"Elyndria!" Rand was suddenly kneeling beside her, dragging her to her feet with barely contained desperation. His hands roamed over her arms, her shoulders, her waist, searching for wounds, his eyes wild with panic. "Light, are you hurt?"

She could only shake her head, her body trembling as the shock settled in.

Rand’s hands tightened on her arms. "Are you sure?"

"I—I'm fine," she managed, her voice unsteady.

Rand exhaled, his forehead pressing against hers for a fleeting second as if he needed to feel that she was really there. His grip was still firm, his body thrumming with tension.

Elyndria swallowed hard, trying to shake the lingering fear.

"Rand… that was a Trolloc," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

His expression darkened instantly. He knew.

"We haven’t seen dark creatures anywhere near the city since we arrived," she continued. "Why is there one here?"

Rand's jaw tightened. "Do you think dark creatures know I’m here?"

Elyndria hesitated, her mind racing. She had no answer.

A lone Trolloc?

That wasn’t normal. They traveled in packs. They didn’t hunt alone.

"I don’t know," she admitted. "It’s strange for a Trolloc to be by itself."

Rand cursed under his breath, glancing back toward the river, his grip on her arm tightening for just a second before he forced himself to release her. "We need to leave," he said, voice grim.

She nodded. "Now."

They didn’t waste time.

Gathering their things quickly, they set off toward the city, their relaxed evening shattered. But even as they moved, Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling creeping up her spine. One Trolloc was bad enough. But one was never alone.

---

The moonlight cast a pale glow over the silent common room, stretching long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The inn was deserted, the kind of stillness that pressed against Elyndria’s chest, suffocating in its quiet intensity. The calm was deceptive, a lull before a storm. Her instincts screamed, a warning whispered deep in her gut. The danger they had been running from was closing in, the edges of the city creeping toward them like a tide too swift to escape.

Elyndria’s mind raced with the urgency of their plans. The Trolloc had been a warning; too close, too soon. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer. But as they reached the foot of the stairs, a voice broke through the stillness, smooth and syrupy, with an edge that unsettled Elyndria's every nerve.

“You two seem to be in a rush,” Selene’s voice echoed, too sweet, too knowing.

Elyndria stiffened, her gaze snapping to the shadowed corner of the room. Selene, poised and graceful, as if she had been waiting for them all along. Her beauty, once charming, now seemed to carry something darker, something Elyndria couldn’t place. Her instincts flared to life, warning her of a threat she couldn’t yet see.

Rand was the first to respond, his smile easy, disarming. “Yes,” he said casually, as though nothing were wrong. “We’ve decided to go camping by the river tonight. It’s beautiful.”

Elyndria’s stomach twisted with the lie, but she held her composure. She couldn’t afford to expose their true plans. Her Oaths would not let her lie outright, but she could bend the truth just enough.

“A decision made quite suddenly,” she added, her voice trying to sound casual. But the tension that threaded through her words betrayed the unease she felt.

Selene’s eyes glinted, her smile widening ever so slightly, an expression that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So late at night?” she purred, her voice dripping with curiosity. “How sudden.”

Elyndria felt the weight of Selene’s gaze, like a spider weaving its web around them.

She forced a smile, the strain of it tightening her chest. “We’re just going to our room to gather a few things,” she said, hoping to push the conversation forward, away from the unsettling suspicion Selene was weaving around them.

But Selene wasn’t in a hurry. She tilted her head, studying them both, her gaze lingering too long, too carefully. Elyndria could feel it, the pressure building in the air, and her skin prickled with the sense that Selene could see through their facade.

“Let me help you,” Selene’s voice was soft, like a command, the sweetness of it concealing the force beneath.

“No, I—” Elyndria began, but Selene didn’t let her finish.

“I insist,” Selene interrupted smoothly, her smile stretching. “I couldn’t let my favorite residents starve in the wilds, could I?”

Elyndria’s pulse quickened, but she swallowed her discomfort, nodding along with Rand’s easy acceptance. He hadn’t sensed it—didn’t feel the shifting tension in the room. He had already accepted, and Elyndria knew it wasn’t worth arguing. There was too much at stake.

Her thoughts, heavy with suspicion, pressed on her, urging her to act before it was too late.

“Thank you,” Rand said, oblivious, his smile warm and sincere.

Elyndria’s chest tightened.

Something wasn’t right. A subtle shift in the air, a presence she couldn’t place but knew was there, watching them. Her instincts were screaming at her—something dark was approaching.

As Selene moved toward the counter to gather the supplies, Elyndria could feel the weight of impending danger, heavy and suffocating. It wasn’t the kind of dread that would fade with time. It whispered of something far worse, something that had been waiting for this moment to unfold.

And then the sound came.

A sharp, wet gasp split the silence, the desperate exhale of air followed by a sickening thud.

Elyndria froze, heart slamming in her chest. Her eyes snapped to the source of the noise. A shadow loomed over Selene; tall, menacing. The gleam of a sword flashed in the dim light, red with fresh blood.

Selene crumpled, her body falling to the floor with a sickening thud. The pool of blood spread beneath her, staining the wooden planks. Elyndria’s stomach turned, revulsion and shock flooding her senses. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The woman who had lingered around Rand was now nothing but a lifeless form on the floor.

Moiraine. Elyndria’s mind snapped to attention, her thoughts whirling as the Aes Sedai stepped from the shadows. Her sword, her presence, it was unmistakable. Elyndria’s blood ran cold as realization hit her like a blow to the chest.

“We must leave,” Moiraine’s voice was calm, urgent, but her eyes burned with a fierce warning. “We don’t have much time.”

Rand was the first to react, fury flooding his voice. “You killed her.”

The words struck the room like lightning, crackling with raw power. Elyndria could feel the air shift, thickening with the energy Rand was channeling. His fury surged through him, an uncontrollable force that swirled around them. He lashed out, a burst of air sending Moiraine crashing into the wall.

The room trembled under the force, windows rattling with the impact.

“Rand!” Elyndria shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Her feet moved faster than her mind, her heart pounding in her chest. She darted toward him, her hand reaching for his arm. He stood frozen, the power still crackling in the air around him, his eyes wild, consumed by the fury that threatened to tear him apart. Elyndria knew what he was capable of when the One Power was driven by emotion. It could destroy them all.

“Stop,” she pleaded, her voice sharp, desperate. She gripped his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Please. You can’t keep doing this.”

Moiraine didn’t flinch, didn’t react to the anger in Rand’s eyes. She met his fury with quiet resolve.

“I haven’t,” she said, her voice almost dismissive. “I couldn’t. Because that is Lanfear. Daughter of the Night. The most dangerous of the Forsaken.”

The words hit Elyndria like a physical blow.

Lanfear. The Forsaken.

The pieces snapped into place with a cold clarity—Selene had never been who she appeared to be. The way she had watched Rand, manipulated the situation, the way she had always seemed to know just a little too much.

Elyndria had never trusted her. Now, she understood why.

Rand’s hand still hovered in the air, his grip on the One Power trembling. His voice wavered with disbelief. “Her name is Selene. She owns the inn in Foregate.”

Moiraine’s gaze didn’t waver. “She’s been lying to you. Which I never can.”

Elyndria felt the floor shift beneath her, the weight of the truth settling on her shoulders. She had known something was wrong, but to realize who Selene truly was… The reality of it hit like a punch.

Rand stood there, his body tense, the fury in him receding as the flows of saidin slipped away, dissipating into the air like mist. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his jaw tight with the weight of betrayal.

Moiraine was already moving, urgency in her every step.

“We need to run,” she said sharply, her voice cold but full of an urgency that left no room for hesitation. “Hurry!”

The weight of everything hung heavy in the air, and Elyndria knew there was no time to waste. The truth was out, and with it, their lives had changed forever.

The danger was real, and it was closing in faster than they could outrun it.

---

The forest whipped past Elyndria as they ran, the cold air biting at her skin, the shadows of trees stretching long and dark beneath the moonlight. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, each breath coming in sharp gasps as they pushed forward, the urgency of their escape pressing against her ribs. But it was not just the pounding of her heart that made her chest tighten. It was the knowledge that they were running from something far more dangerous than anything she had ever faced.

Behind her, Rand’s voice cut through the silence, raw with confusion and anger. “Why are we running? You killed her.”

Elyndria's eyes darted to Rand, his face tense with disbelief. It was a question she too struggled with, the truth of it too shocking to fully grasp.

How could Selene—Lanfear, as Moiraine had said—have been among them all this time?

She had been so close, so manipulative.

Moiraine’s voice was calm, but her words only fueled Elyndria’s unease. “That wound will barely slow her down. Hurry.”

Lanfear—Selene—wouldn’t stay dead for long. Elyndria’s chest tightened as she thought of the Forsaken’s power, how they had slipped through time, untouchable.

How had she escaped her prison?

Elyndria’s thoughts were a whirlwind, questions without answers. She had known something was wrong with Selene, but this—this was worse than she could have imagined.

Rand’s voice broke through again, urgent and strained. “I don’t understand. She’s a Forsaken. How did she… she was trapped with the other Forsaken. How is she walking among us now?”

Elyndria’s eyes locked with Moiraine’s, but the Aes Sedai’s gaze was distant, focused.

“If we survive tonight,” Moiraine said with grim determination, “I’ll explain everything. There.”

Elyndria didn’t know whether to feel comforted by Moiraine’s promise or even more lost. She couldn’t think about it now. The only thing that mattered was getting out of there, away from Lanfear, away from the shadows that had been closing in. Her thoughts were jumbled, a storm of confusion and fear, but one thing remained clear: They couldn’t stop. Not until they were safe.

They reached the stables in a blur of motion, the familiar scent of hay and sweat filling Elyndria’s nostrils as they scrambled to untether the horses. The stablemaster’s voice rang out, harsh and demanding.

“Oi! Oi! Payment first!”

Moiraine’s response was immediate, sharp, commanding. “I’m commandeering your fastest horses on behalf of the Amyrlin Seat and the White Tower.”

Elyndria turned sharply, her eyes flicking to the stablemaster, who had taken a step forward, her arms crossed in disbelief. “There’s no way I’ll let you just take my horses.”

Moiraine’s presence seemed to grow colder, more dangerous in that moment. Elyndria could feel the shift in the air as the Aes Sedai moved closer, her voice like ice. “You’re coming with us. We will be making our way to Tar Valon. And if they are not saddled in two minutes, I swear you will regret this night for however much longer your life lasts.”

Elyndria could hear the tremor in the stablemaster’s breath as she gasped, her eyes wide with fear. She wasted no time after that, scrambling to saddle the horses with hurried, clumsy motions.

Elyndria stepped forward hoping to gain Moiraine’s attention, her heart beating loudly in her chest as she spoke, “Tar Valon? Are we going back to…”

Before she could finish, Moiraine moved with cold precision. Elyndria’s eyes widened as she watched Moiraine unsheathe Rand’s sword, her hand swift and sure.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Rand protested, stepping back, his confusion turning to alarm.

Moiraine didn’t answer. She just stepped forward, her eyes steady as she approached one of the horses. With one swift motion, she sliced the creature’s throat.

Elyndria’s stomach twisted in horror, her breath catching in her throat as the horse let out a sharp, desperate squeal, collapsing to the ground with a thud. The blood pooled quickly, staining the earth beneath it.

Rand’s face mirrored her own disbelief, his body stiffening in horror. Elyndria felt the same repulsion. She could hardly look at the bloodied animal, her heart aching for the life lost so quickly. But Moiraine was already moving, unfazed by the death she had caused, as though it were nothing more than a necessary sacrifice.

Rand’s voice shook with disbelief. “Why… Why did you kill it?”

Moiraine’s gaze remained steady, her expression hardening with purpose. “There are five horses. I cannot give her a way to follow us.”

Elyndria’s eyes widened as she understood. Moiraine had killed the horse to ensure that no one could track them. Lanfear, or whoever else might be hunting them, would need one single horse to follow their trail.

Killing this horse would hinder her pursuit, buying them precious moments to escape. Still, the image of the bloodied horse haunted Elyndria. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, getting away. They didn’t have time to dwell on the sacrifice of the animal. Not yet. Moiraine moved with precision, her eyes sharp as she checked the saddles. Rand stood, his hand still shaking from the intensity of the moment, but he didn’t argue. They needed to leave.

“Get on,” Moiraine said sharply, as they mounted their horses.

The stablemaster was already at the gate, holding the reins of the remaining horses, the urgency in her movements showing that she understood the gravity of the situation.

---

 

The sound of the hooves pounding down the road seemed to echo in Elyndria’s mind as they galloped away, the shadows of the night closing in on them. Elyndria’s thoughts raced. The death of the horse, the weight of Moiraine’s explanation, the fear still clawing at her heart. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was still ahead of them.

They were running, yes.

But from what?

And for how long?

Elyndria could only hope they had enough time. Enough time before the darkness caught up with them.

As the horses thundered down the road, the night air tearing at Elyndria’s face, she couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. They were racing toward Tar Valon, the very heart of the White Tower, the idea of going there caused her anxiety to rise even more. She turned toward Moiraine, her voice cutting through the pounding hooves and wind.

"Moiraine, we cannot go to the Tower," Elyndria said, her tone urgent and low. "You know that. What they'll do to us... I broke away from them. Rand is the Dragon Reborn. If they get their hands on him... they will use him as a tool."

Moiraine’s gaze flicked to her, her expression hard but understanding. "You’re right," she said softly, her voice carrying over the wind. "That is why we are not going to the White Tower."

Elyndria's heart skipped a beat, her thoughts racing even faster now. She had never doubted Moiraine’s wisdom, but this was different. She had never seen the Aes Sedai look so resolute, so determined. As they pushed forward, Moiraine’s next words came with quiet authority.

She turned toward the stablemaster, her voice cold and commanding. "When we reach the stone markers up ahead, you will go by yourself to Tar Valon with the horses." The stablemaster, her face pale in the moonlight, nodded quickly, urging her horse on faster. Moiraine's eyes flicked back to Rand and Elyndria, her face hardening. "We will stay by the stones and wait for Lanfear to pass us, to make sure she follows."

The wind seemed to howl louder, the forest flashing by in a blur as they continued their breakneck pace. Elyndria could feel the tension building in her chest. The urgency of their flight, the fear of the Forsaken... It all felt suffocating.

But there was no turning back now.

The stone markers loomed ahead, ancient and weathered, their jagged surfaces casting long shadows across the road. Moiraine slowed her horse, guiding it to a stop next to one of the large stones, and Elyndria followed suit, her heart pounding as she slid off her mount.

Rand was already dismounting, his face tight with a mixture of exhaustion and wariness. The stablemaster took the horses from them and veered off, spurring the horses onward to Tar Valon, the sound of hooves receding into the night.

The three of them crept behind the stone, hiding in its shadow, their breathing shallow as they listened.

The sound of hooves soon came closer to the stones, and Elyndria felt the tension rise in her chest, her body pressing closer to Rand as they huddled together. She could hear the unmistakable sound of Lanfear’s horse—galloping with unnatural speed, chasing them without hesitation.

Rand’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tighter against him, his breath warm against her hair. Elyndria’s fingers dug into his shirt, and she could feel his heartbeat, strong and fast, just like hers.

They waited in silence, the only sound the thundering of hooves drawing closer and closer, until at last the sound passed them. Lanfear had ridden by, unaware that the three of them were hidden just behind the stone.

When they were certain she was far enough ahead, Moiraine signaled them to move. They stepped out from their hiding place, and the night seemed to shift, the silence broken only by the sound of their horses shifting uneasily nearby. Moiraine spoke first, her voice low but steady. "It’ll be a day or two before she discovers the truth. If we’re lucky."

Rand let out a deep, exhausted sigh. "I knew. Somehow, I knew you’d be back." His voice was thick with frustration, with a sense of betrayal that Elyndria could feel in her bones. "Tell me the truth. All of it."

Moiraine met his gaze, her expression hardening as she took a step toward him, her voice low and serious. "You did not defeat the Dark One at the Eye of the World. You set his strongest lieutenant free— Ishamael, the leader of the Forsaken."

Rand’s eyes widened in disbelief. "But the Forsaken... they were trapped."

Moiraine’s voice was quiet but intense. "By you... in your last life. And now Ishamael is loose, and he has released Lanfear."

A cold chill passed over Elyndria as she absorbed Moiraine’s words. It was a truth she had suspected but hearing it from Moiraine made it feel all the more real. The Forsaken were free. And they were only the beginning.

Rand’s voice trembled with confusion and fear. "And the rest of them?"

Moiraine’s gaze turned grave, her voice hard as iron. "If he releases them all, well then, we have no hope of winning the Last Battle."

The weight of her words settled over them all like a suffocating blanket. Elyndria felt the immense pressure of it, the impossible odds they now faced. If the Forsaken were truly free, the Last Battle— the struggle for the fate of the world— had just become far more dangerous. Moiraine turned without another word, signaling for them to follow. Elyndria stayed close to Rand, her thoughts still whirling with the enormity of what had just been revealed.

The world had shifted beneath their feet, and the road ahead was uncertain, dark with peril. But one thing was certain: there was no turning back.

Chapter 18: Faced with uncertainty

The snow began to fall as they made their way back to Cairhien, the cold air biting at their faces and the ground beginning to dust with white. Elyndria’s boots crunched against the frozen earth, her thoughts swirling. The reality of their situation was settling in, thickening the air around them like the growing snowflakes. The Forsaken were free, and Rand was the Dragon Reborn. The last hope of the Light, but also the most sought-after target for every dark creature that roamed the earth.

Elyndria glanced at Rand, his face set in a grim line, and couldn’t help but voice the question that had been gnawing at her. "Where will we go?" she asked, her voice tight. "All the dark creatures will be on the lookout for Rand now, especially with the Forsaken walking among us again."

Moiraine’s voice was steady, a calm amidst the storm of thoughts swirling in Elyndria's mind. "We will go back to Cairhien."

Elyndria shook her head, a knot forming in her chest. "We can't. A Trolloc attacked us there. More could be coming." Her eyes flicked to Rand, his expression reflecting her own unease.

"I have to go back," Moiraine said. "We need more horses to travel, and I know people who will help us."

"Who?" Elyndria asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

Moiraine didn’t answer immediately, her gaze fixed ahead, focused on the path leading back to Cairhien. Elyndria could feel the tension in the air, but she didn’t press further. Whatever Moiraine’s plans were, she had to trust the Aes Sedai. For now. The snowflakes began to fall heavier, the landscape around them turning a soft, almost ghostly white. Elyndria, deep in thought, finally broke the silence, her voice curious.

"Do you know what happened in the White Tower after my disappearance?" she asked. The question hung in the air, heavier than the snow. She wanted to know how her Green sisters had reacted, and what had become of them after her departure. What was Saerel doing now?

Moiraine shook her head, her long, dark hair flying around her face. "I have not been permitted back. I’m still in exile."

Elyndria's heart sank. The White Tower had been her home, the place where she had learned to wield the One Power, where she had once belonged. And now, it seemed, that part of her life was lost forever. Disappointment washed over her, but she said nothing more. They continued walking, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the growing snow.

It was Rand who broke the silence next, his voice filled with disbelief. "I can’t believe Selene has been Lanfear this whole time. She seemed so genuine. Nothing like I would have expected from a Forsaken."

Elyndria stiffened at the mention of the name. Selene. The woman who had always been so close to Rand, the one who had ingratiated herself into his life. "Genuine with you" Elyndria’s stated, her words clipped. "She liked you, Rand, and the Forsaken are known to be quite good manipulators."

Rand sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. "How did I not see it?"

Elyndria could see the pain in his eyes, the shock of betrayal cutting deeper than any wound. She couldn’t imagine how he felt, realizing that someone he had trusted, was one of the Dark One’s most powerful servants. "I didn’t see it either," Elyndria murmured. "The Forsaken have been around for a long time, Rand. They are the Dark One’s top soldiers for a reason."

There was a silence between them, thick and heavy, as the world seemed to quiet around them. Rand's footsteps slowed, and Elyndria noticed the shift in him. His posture slumped slightly, his expression distant. "I really thought we could make a life in Foregate," Rand said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You and me, together. We were happy, weren’t we?"

Elyndria’s heart tightened in her chest. She wanted so badly to believe that they could have that life, that they could find peace together. But the world wasn’t that simple. The weight of their destinies—Rand’s as the Dragon Reborn, hers as someone caught in the storm—was a burden neither of them could escape.

Still, she squeezed his hand, her fingers tight around his. "And I am still happy, Rand. No matter what... we still have each other."

For a moment, they walked in silence, the falling snow the only sound between them. The world around them had changed, but in that small, quiet gesture—her hand in his—it felt as though something, at least, remained the same. It took them only an hour to get back to Cairhien, snowflakes clinging to Elyndria’s lashes as she hurried through the streets of Cairhien, her boots crunching softly against the frost-laden cobblestones. The bell tolling in the distance sent an eerie shiver through her, a reminder that time was slipping away from them.

She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, glancing at Rand. His face was tight with worry, his shoulders tense as he strode beside her. She could feel the weight of his thoughts, the way he wrestled with the truth they had learned.

"Lanfear will know we're here," Rand muttered, voice edged with frustration.

Moiraine’s replied, her voice was as steady as the snowfall. "We need food, clothing, and fast horses. Then we’ll ride for a few days, put some distance between us."

Rand exhaled sharply. "Sleep. We'll need sleep eventually."

"No. That is the most dangerous thing we could possibly do." Moiraine shook her head with a stern glint in her eyes.

Elyndria frowned, stepping closer. "Why?" she asked, glancing between them.

Moiraine’s sharp gaze met hers. "Lanfear was famous for two things among the Forsaken, her casual cruelty and her mastery of Tel'aran'rhiod."

Elyndria’s stomach twisted. "The world of dreams," she murmured, understanding dawning.

Moiraine gave a slight nod. "She can hurt you just as easily there as here. And the moment you fall asleep, she will have you."

Rand’s eyes widened, his voice tinged with hope. "You can keep us awake with the One Power, right?"

Moiraine hesitated just outside the door of a grand house, a sigil displayed above its entrance. Her silence stretched for a breath too long. "No," she said finally.

Elyndria let out a slow breath, forcing down the rising fear. Of course not. Even Moiraine had limits. As they stepped inside, the warmth of manor enveloped her, the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine filling the air. A servant rushed toward them, eyes wide with alarm.

"My lady, you're—you’re injured!" he stammered.

Moiraine waved him off. "Where’s my sister?"

"In the kitchen, but... but, uh, your nephew’s with her."

Elyndria caught the flicker of surprise on Rand’s face. "Nephew?" he asked, looking toward Moiraine.

She said nothing, simply leading them forward. Elyndria followed, her thoughts still tangled in the conversation outside. Sleep was a dangerous thing now. The Forsaken were walking the world again. And Rand had been fooled by one of them. The thought of him in Lanfear’s grasp made something tighten in her chest. They stepped into the kitchen, where warmth and light spilled over a long wooden table covered in food. A woman and a young man sat at its center, speaking softly with a cook.

The woman—Moiraine’s sister, Elyndria realized, they had the same eyes and chin—looked up. "Oh, good, you’re back. And you’ve brought a friend."

The young man’s face lit up with disbelief. "Aunt Moiraine," he said, half-laughing. "I—I could hardly believe it when Mother said you were here. It’s... it’s been twenty years."

Moiraine studied him for a moment, then offered the smallest of smiles. "I think you were as high as this table the last time I saw you."

Her nephew grinned. "You... you look almost exactly the same."

Moiraine’s sister smirked. "If somewhat bedraggled. I’m imagining you didn’t come back for the royal wedding tasting?"

Moiraine’s nephew laughed, then turned his gaze to Rand and Elyndria. "You must be my aunt’s Warder. And another Aes Sedai?"

Elyndria stiffened slightly at the assumption, glancing at Rand.

"I’m not a Warder," Rand said quickly.

Moiraine stepped in smoothly. "This is Rand. And Elyndria, a Green Ajah."

Elyndria inclined her head, keeping her posture composed. "It’s an honor to meet Moiraine’s family," she said politely, It was strange meeting a sister’s family. Most people from the White Tower kept their families separate from their Aes Sedai lives. She had never imagined she would meet Moiraine’s family.

The nephew grinned seemed pleased, flashing a charming smile. "A pleasure, Rand. And you, Elyndria. I’m Barthanes Damodred. And this is my mother, Anvaere."

Moiraine’s expression turned businesslike. "We need horses, three. Coursers, if you have them."

Anvaere lifted an eyebrow but nodded. "I’ll have them brought to the house. We have a whole stable of the very best. A gift from the queen."

Barthanes chuckled. "And you must come to the wedding. It’s just a few weeks away. Can you believe that I will be marrying Queen Galldrian?" His grin turned playful. "That makes me your king. So I shall expect full subservience."

Moiraine’s expression didn’t change, but there was something knowing in her gaze. "It’s a happy match, I hope."

Anvaere spoke with measured certainty. "The name Damodred is held in high esteem. That is happiness enough." Elyndria studied the way Moiraine’s jaw tensed at her sister’s words. It was subtle, but it was there. Another reminder that nobility did not always equate to warmth.

Moiraine turned, her tone shifting. "Well... I shall go and wash upstairs. Perhaps a meal for Rand and Elyndria in the meantime? And then some fresh clothes for them before we leave?"

Barthanes inclined his head. "Yes, of course. We’ll find something fitting for the both of them."

Moiraine gave him a brief nod, then turned to leave.

Barthanes hesitated. "Is that... blood?"

Moiraine barely paused, glancing at the dried stains on her cloak before brushing them off. "It truly has been good to see you, nephew. Or... should I say, My Liege?"

With an elegant curtsy, she disappeared down the hallway. It didn’t take long for the servants to lead Rand and Elyndria to the table for them to sit down. Elyndria let out a slow breath, still feeling the weight of everything they had left unspoken. She let the warmth of Barthanes' manor settle into her bones, but she couldn’t shake the unease twisting in her stomach. They were safe for now. But how long before Lanfear caught up to them? How long before the Forsaken’s reach extended even here?

She forced herself to focus as a servant set down a bowl of steaming stew in front of her. The rich scent of roasted meat and herbs filled the air, but she barely had the appetite. Across from her, Rand stirred his own meal absentmindedly, his expression distant.

"Eat," she murmured softly.

Rand looked up, startled, as if he had forgotten she was there. He hesitated for a moment, then took a bite, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

Barthanes sipped his wine, watching them with interest. "So, tell me, Rand—what exactly brings you, Elyndria and my dear aunt to Cairhien?"

Elyndria tensed. Moiraine had said nothing of their true purpose here, and she doubted she would want Barthanes involved. Rand hesitated, glancing at Elyndria, as if waiting for her to answer. "We’re just passing through," Elyndria said smoothly, taking a sip of water. "A brief stop before we continue our journey."

Barthanes raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. "A dangerous time to travel," he mused. "With rumors of war stirring, and strangers moving through the Foregate in the dead of night."

Elyndria forced a polite smile. "Danger finds us all, eventually."

Barthanes smirked, but before he could say more, Anvaere rose from her seat. "I’ll see to the preparations for your departure," she said. "Barthanes, make sure they have proper cloaks. It’s only going to get colder."

Barthanes nodded, and Elyndria offered a grateful nod as Anvaere swept from the room. A heavy silence fell over them once she was gone. Rand set down his spoon, rubbing his temple. Elyndria recognized the look in his eyes, the weight of what had happened with Lanfear still pressing down on him.

She reached out, resting a hand over his. "Rand," she said quietly. "I know you’re struggling with what happened. But you cannot let it consume you."

Rand exhaled sharply. "She played me for a fool, Elyndria. I trusted her."

Elyndria’s stomach twisted. She hated the hurt in his voice, the doubt creeping into his expression.

"You aren’t the first to be deceived by the Forsaken," she said gently. "And you won’t be the last. They’ve had years to perfect the art of manipulation. You couldn’t have known."

Rand shook his head. "I should have."

Elyndria frowned. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. That no one, not even an Aes Sedai, could see through every lie. But she knew words wouldn’t erase his doubts. Instead, she squeezed his hand. "You see it now. That’s what matters."

Rand let out a slow breath and nodded.

Barthanes, who had been watching their exchange curiously, cleared his throat. "You know," he said lightly, "if it’s distraction you need, you should stay for the wedding. It promises to be an extravagant affair. And I have it on good authority that the queen’s handmaidens are quite fond of foreign visitors."

Elyndria arched an eyebrow. "And are you offering on their behalf?"

Barthanes chuckled. "Merely an observation. One should find joy where they can, my dear."

Elyndria offered a polite smile but said nothing. Joy felt like a distant thing right now.

Before the conversation could continue, a servant entered the room. "The baths are ready, my lord," he said with a bow.

Barthanes clapped his hands together. "Excellent. Rand, Elyndria—come, I’ll show you where you can clean up before you go running off into the snow again."

Rand hesitated, glancing at Elyndria. She could see the reluctance in his expression. He didn’t want to linger here any longer than necessary. But they were exhausted. And if they had to ride through the night, they needed to be warm, clean, and ready.

She nodded. "We should go."

Rand sighed but rose to his feet.

Barthanes led them down the quiet, dimly lit hallways of the Manor, his boots clicking softly against the polished floors. He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, pushing it open to reveal a warmly lit chamber. “I apologize,” he said smoothly, stepping aside for them to enter. “We were only able to set up one room on such short notice. If that is not acceptable, further arrangements can be made, but it will take some time.”

Elyndria glanced at Rand, then back to Barthanes. “It’s fine. We’ll share.” She smiled slightly. It would have felt strange having separate rooms after sharing one for the past seven months.

Barthanes arched an eyebrow but said nothing, merely inclining his head. “Then I’ll leave you to it. If you require anything, simply ask.” He gave a small, knowing smirk before pulling the door shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, Elyndria exhaled, finally allowing herself to relax. The warmth of the room was a welcome relief from the bitter cold outside, and her gaze was immediately drawn to the steaming bath in the corner. The scent of lavender and clean linen filled the air, tempting and soothing all at once. She felt Rand shift beside her and turned just in time to see him eyeing the bath as well, though his expression was hesitant.

“I can leave while you take a bath,” he offered, already taking a step back toward the door.

Elyndria reached out, catching his wrist before he could go any farther. “It’s okay.” Her lips curled slightly as she glanced at the bath. “Maybe we can share. It looks big enough for both of us.”

Rand stiffened, his eyes flicking from her to the steaming water and back again. She could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the slight flush creeping up his neck.

“We don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable,” she added, tilting her head, amused by his reaction.

Rand’s gaze darted to hers. “It’s not—it’s just—” He let out a slow breath, looking helplessly at the tub as if it were some kind of trap.

Elyndria rolled her eyes, her amusement deepening. “Rand,” she said, stepping closer. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t comfortable with it. We’ve been together for so long. Shared so much.” Her voice softened, turning more serious. “I think we can manage a bath between us.”

Rand hesitated, studying her, as if searching for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he exhaled, nodding. “Alright.”

A quiet understanding settled between them, but beneath it, something else hummed; something unspoken.

They had grown closer over the months. Hands lingering a little too long, touches that spoke of something more, lips brushing against skin in stolen moments of tenderness. But this… this would be different. For the first time, there would be nothing between them. A charged silence filled the room as Elyndria turned toward the bath, her fingers moving to the laces of her coat. She felt the warmth of the room seep into her skin as she slowly peeled off the heavy fabric, draping it over a nearby chair. Beneath it, her tunic clung to her, damp from the snow, and she pulled it over her head in one smooth motion.

She could feel Rand’s gaze on her, heavy and uncertain. He hadn’t moved yet, standing rigid near the door, as though waiting for her to change her mind.

Elyndria smirked. “Are you just going to stand there?”

Rand blinked, as if pulled from his thoughts, then cleared his throat. “No, I—” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before finally beginning to unbuckle his sword belt. He set the heron-marked blade gently against the wall, his movements careful, deliberate. Elyndria watched as he worked at the buttons of his coat, the leather stiff from the cold. When he pulled it off, the simple linen shirt beneath did little to hide the lean muscle of his frame. Rand hesitated again at the hem of his shirt, glancing at her. Elyndria, now stripped to nothing but her shift, met his gaze evenly before reaching for the ties at her hips. She let the last of her clothes slip from her body, her bare skin prickling in the cool air.

Rand swallowed hard, his face flushing deeper, but he didn’t look away.

Elyndria stepped toward the bath, steam curling around her like a veil. She dipped a foot into the water, sighing softly at the heat, before sinking in fully. The tension in her body began to melt instantly, the aches from travel fading beneath the warmth. She turned her head toward Rand, who still stood frozen at the edge of the room, his shirt half-unbuttoned. “Are you coming in, or do you need another invitation?”

Rand let out a breath that was almost a laugh. He shook his head, as if cursing himself, and finished undressing. When he finally slid into the bath across from her, the water rippled between them, shifting and settling. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the soft dripping of water and the distant crackling of the fire in the hearth. Elyndria tilted her head back against the edge of the tub, closing her eyes briefly. “I don’t think I’ve been this warm in days,” she murmured.

Rand leaned back as well, though he still seemed tense, his hands gripping the rim of the bath as if unsure where to put them. “It does feel nice,” he admitted.

Elyndria cracked an eye open, watching him. His face was still slightly flushed, whether from the heat of the water or something else, she wasn’t sure.

“Rand,” she said softly, drawing his attention. “Relax.”

He let out a breath and finally allowed himself to sink deeper into the water.

Silence stretched between them again, but this time, it was comfortable. The months spent traveling and surviving had left little room for quiet moments like this. Moments where there was nothing to do but simply be. Rand closed his eyes, and for the first time since they had arrived back in Cairhien, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. Elyndria watched him for a moment longer before reaching for the small bar of soap resting on the edge of the bath. She turned it over in her hands before shifting forward slightly.

“Here,” she said, lifting it toward him. “Turn around.”

Rand frowned, opening his eyes. “What?”

She smirked. “Turn around. I’ll wash your back.”

His brows lifted in surprise, but after a brief hesitation, he did as she asked, shifting so his back was to her.

Elyndria lathered the soap between her hands, then ran them over the broad expanse of his back. His muscles twitched under her touch, but he didn’t pull away. She worked slowly, her fingers tracing over the knots of tension along his spine. She felt Rand exhale, his head dipping slightly forward.

“Elyndria,” he said quietly.

She paused. “Yes?”

He was silent for a long moment before he shook his head. “Nothing,” he murmured.

Elyndria smiled softly to herself but said nothing. Instead, she continued her slow, careful work, letting the warmth of the water and the quiet closeness between them speak for itself.
The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thick, charged, the kind of quiet that carried weight, full of unspoken things neither of them seemed ready to voice.

Elyndria let her fingers linger a moment longer, pressing softly against Rand’s shoulder blades before pulling back. “Your turn,” she said, voice lighter than she felt.

Rand hesitated before turning slowly, shifting to face her once more. His blue-gray eyes held hers, searching. She wondered what he saw, what he was trying to understand. Then he reached for the soap. Elyndria sat still as his hands found her shoulder, the first slide of his fingers against her skin making her shiver, though the water was still warm. His touch was careful, reverent even, as if he was afraid to press too hard, to overstep. She almost laughed. They had slept tangled together more nights than she could count, hands roaming in the dark, breath mingling between shared whispers. And yet here he was, treating this as though it were something fragile.

Maybe it was. Rand’s hands moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of her shoulder, down along her arm. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the sensation.

“You’ve haven’t let yourself rest like this for awhile,” she murmured, tilting her head as his fingers brushed along her collarbone.

Rand let out a soft breath, almost a chuckle. “I suppose I didn’t think I had time to.”

“You still think that don’t you?” She opened her eyes, watching him carefully.

He didn’t answer at first, but she could see the truth in his face. The weight he carried, the war always raging in the back of his mind. “Lanfear won’t stop,” he said finally. “None of them will. How can I rest knowing that?”

Elyndria reached up, fingers brushing against his wrist beneath the water. “Because you need to,” she said simply. “Because if you don’t, you’ll break before you ever have the chance to fight.”

Rand swallowed, his eyes darkening. For a moment, she thought he might argue, but instead, his hand slid down, fingers curling around hers beneath the water. The bath had long since stopped steaming, the heat slowly fading, but neither of them moved to leave. Not yet.

---

 

Elyndria and Rand were seated across from each other at the small table, a chessboard set between them. The quiet click of pieces being moved was the only sound in the room, save for their soft breaths. Both of them fought against the lure of sleep, the exhaustion of the journey and their tense circumstances weighing heavily on them.

Elyndria yawned, her hand hovering over the board. "I swear, I think I’m going to fall asleep mid-game."

Rand chuckled, though it was a tired sound. "We could just skip to the end. I’m probably going to lose anyway."

She raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been saying that for the past hour. You’re not that bad at this game, Rand."

"I’m not really focused," he admitted, his gaze lingering on the pieces as if he could hardly see them. "It’s hard to concentrate with everything going on. We’ve barely had a chance to rest since... well, since everything started."

Elyndria paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her king piece. She knew exactly what he meant. The pressure, the danger, the endless sense of being hunted. She knew they needed rest, but sleep felt impossible with Lanfear out there, constantly circling them like a shadow. Before she could respond, there was a soft knock at the door, and it opened without waiting for a reply. Moiraine entered, her presence as commanding as always. Her gaze swept over them, assessing.

Rand didn’t even bother to hide his weariness. "Time to go?" he asked, his voice thick with fatigue.

Moiraine’s lips curved slightly. "No, actually. We’re staying."

"Staying?" Rand sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing. "I thought we had to keep moving. Keep running."

Moiraine gave a short shake of her head. "You’ve been moving long enough. It’s time for a break. The danger won’t catch up to us here, not immediately. I’ve made arrangements."

Rand looked over at Elyndria, seeking reassurance in her eyes. He found it, though it was mixed with the same uncertainty he felt. Moiraine stepped forward, closing the door behind her, and her voice dropped. "I think you should try and go to sleep, Rand."

Rand frowned, the exhaustion tugging at him again. "You said I can’t sleep or she’ll find me."

"Yes," Moiraine said calmly. "She will. But don’t worry. We have contingencies. You won’t be alone."

Rand rubbed his face, his hands trembling slightly. "You want her to find me. You want me to let her think she has me."

Moiraine’s gaze sharpened. "She’s been with you, what, two, three months now?" she asked, her tone steady. "If she wanted to hurt you, she’s had ample opportunity. But she hasn’t. What does she want?"

Rand’s gaze turned inward, his thoughts clouded. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice tight.

Elyndria spoke softly, her words laced with discomfort. "She was interested in Rand. She didn’t like me very much."

Moiraine’s gaze flickered briefly toward Elyndria before returning to Rand. "Stories from before the Breaking are vague, but there’s one thing that all accounts agree on Lanfear loved the Dragon Reborn. And he loved her, before he met his wife."

"Before he met... " Rand shook his head. "But she was a Darkfriend."

Moiraine’s expression darkened. "Only after he broke her heart. She swore her oaths to the Dark to try to get him back."

Rand’s stomach clenched at the thought, and he stood, pacing slightly. "And what? You want me to pretend? You want me to make her think I’m in love with a Forsaken?"

Elyndria’s heart dropped at the thought of Rand pretending to love Lanfear. Her throat tightened, and her stomach churned. She had barely liked it when Lanfear was talking to him in the inn, the idea of Rand and Lanfear possibly being close in his dream made her want to vomit.

Moiraine’s gaze softened slightly, though her voice remained firm. "Lanfear is working with Ishamael. This could be our only chance to find out what he wants."

Rand clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "She’ll see right through it. She saw me with Elyndria. I love Elyndria. Lanfear would have seen that."

Moiraine raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Maybe. Maybe not. She might not see it. But you have to consider the possibility."

"I don’t know," Rand muttered, his voice dark and uncertain.

Moiraine crossed her arms, her eyes boring into him. "It’s your choice, Rand. I mean that this time. The decision is yours. But remember, this might be our only chance to find out what they’re planning. What they want."

Rand looked to Elyndria, his gaze searching hers for some form of guidance, some reassurance. She could see the conflict in his eyes. Elyndria sighed softly, her heart heavy with the weight of what she knew needed to be done.

She nodded, though her expression was reluctant. "I understand," she whispered, even as the thought of it made her feel sick. She knew this was the only way forward, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

Rand took a slow breath, walking over to the bed. His back was straight, but his shoulders sagged under the burden of the choice ahead. "I’ll do it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If it’ll help. I’ll... pretend."

Moiraine gave a slight nod, and with that, she turned and walked toward the door. "We’ll stay here," she said, pausing. "If it seems like she’s hurting you... we’ll wake you. You won’t be alone."

Elyndria’s eyes softened as she watched Rand, her fingers grazing his open palm. She leaned down, brushing her lips against his forehead, her voice barely a whisper. "I’ll be right here."

Rand closed his eyes at the warmth of her touch, though a deep sigh escaped him. "I know. I’ll try to be careful."

He lay down on the bed, the exhaustion finally overwhelming him. It didn’t take long before his breathing evened out, his face softening into the kind of sleep that only the truly exhausted could fall into. Elyndria watched him for a moment, her heart heavy with the weight of the situation.In that quiet, fragile moment, as the fire crackled softly and the weight of the world pressed down on them, Elyndria made a vow: she would protect him. No matter what it took. Elyndria watched as Rand’s chest rose and fell in steady breaths, his face softening in sleep.

Her stomach twisted.

This felt wrong. Letting him walk straight into Lanfear’s grasp, even if it was only in the world of dreams. She could still feel the ghost of his touch from the bath, the way he had held her hand just hours ago. And now he was lying there, willingly offering himself up to another woman—a woman who wanted him in ways Elyndria didn’t even want to imagine.

Moiraine stood nearby, watching carefully, but Elyndria could feel the weight of her own emotions pressing down on her chest.

“Are you sure this is wise?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Moiraine didn’t look away from Rand. “No. But it may be necessary.”

Elyndria swallowed hard, turning her gaze back to him. She hated this. Hated knowing that, even if it was a ruse. Would she touch him? Whisper to him in the dark? Would he let her? She clenched her fists against the flood of jealousy curling through her gut. It was useless. Pointless. She had told him to do this. She had nodded when he looked to her for permission. And yet, the idea of Lanfear’s hands on him made her blood burn.

Moiraine finally turned to her, studying her carefully. “You care for him deeply.” Elyndria’s breath hitched. She didn’t answer. Moiraine nodded slightly, as if she had already known. “Then stay by his side. If he falters, bring him back.”

Elyndria’s throat felt tight, but she nodded. She reached out, hesitating for only a second before letting her fingers brush over Rand’s open palm.

“I love you,” she whispered. Rand’s fingers twitched slightly, and whether he had heard her or not, she didn’t know. All she could do now was wait. And hope he came back to her.

The room was silent for a few moments, the only sound the steady rhythm of Rand’s breathing. Elyndria sat still beside him, her fingers still lingering lightly on his hand, as if afraid to let go. Her thoughts were a jumble, swirling with concern and uncertainty.

Suddenly, Rand’s body jerked awake. His eyes flew open, wide and frantic, and he gasped for air. His chest heaved, his breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts. Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him struggle, his face pale, as if he had just woken from a nightmare. Without thinking, she reached forward, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “Thank the light,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I was so worried.”

Rand’s arms immediately circled her back, pulling her close, his grip tight as if afraid she might disappear. He ran his hands up and down her back, trying to calm himself, but also reassuring her. “I’m okay,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I’m okay.”

She closed her eyes, relieved to feel the warmth of his embrace, the steady thrum of his heartbeat under her ear. But a lingering unease gnawed at her. What had happened? What had Lanfear done to him? They broke apart slowly, and Elyndria turned to see Moiraine step forward, her presence commanding.

“What happened?” Moiraine asked, her voice calm but filled with authority.

Rand’s gaze flickered toward Elyndria before he spoke, his voice still shaky. “She wanted me to leave you two. She told me that she would not help find Ishamael if I stayed with you... that she would kill you both.”

Elyndria’s body stiffened at the words. Kill us both? Her pulse quickened, and the reality of the situation hit her all at once. To fight a Forsaken, especially one as powerful as Lanfear, was something entirely different than the battles they had fought before. The thought of facing her was terrifying. Elyndria had never trained for something like this. She wasn’t prepared.

Moiraine’s expression hardened, but she shook her head immediately. “She wants you alone. It’s easier for her to manipulate you, to sink her threads into you if you’re isolated.”

Rand hesitated, his eyes flickering to Elyndria, a flicker of pain in his gaze. “I don’t want you both hurt,” he said, his voice low, as if the weight of the decision was crushing him. “Not for me.”

Elyndria’s heart clenched at his words. She knew what he was trying to do. He wanted to protect them both, to keep them out of harm’s way. But she wouldn’t back down. Not now.

“I can look after myself, Rand,” Moiraine said firmly, crossing her arms.

Elyndria stepped closer to Rand, her resolve hardening. She lifted her chin, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “I will not leave you,” she said. “That was my promise from the moment I left with you. I will not turn my back on you.”

Rand looked between them, his face etched with uncertainty and defeat. He knew what it would mean to stay with them, to risk their safety for his. But after a long moment, he nodded reluctantly. “Alright,” he said softly, though the word was heavy with the weight of his decision.

Elyndria reached out, placing her hand on his arm, her fingers brushing against his skin in reassurance. She wouldn’t let him carry this burden alone. Not now, not ever. Elyndria’s resolve solidified. Whatever came next, she would stand by Rand’s side.

Her fingers tightened on Rand’s arm, and she gave him a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll get through this,” she said softly, her voice unwavering. Rand didn’t answer, but the faintest flicker of hope passed across his face.

Moiraine left the room without another word, her footsteps growing fainter as she made her way down the hall. Elyndria and Rand remained in the stillness of the room, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air, unspoken but present between them.

Rand and Elyndria settled back into bed, side by side, their faces turned toward each other. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across the room, but the shadows on their hearts were darker.

Rand’s voice broke the silence, low and heavy with emotion. “She looked different in my dreams, acted different. Nothing like the Selene from the inn… I really thought she was my friend. Maybe I was ignoring the signs. I just wanted another friend…” He trailed off, his words filled with regret and sorrow, as if the weight of his earlier realizations was too much for him to carry alone.

Elyndria felt a pang in her chest at his words, her own heart aching in understanding.

“I’ve been thinking about Perrin, Egwene, Mat, Nynaeve… I miss them,” Rand continued sadly, his gaze distant as if seeing those faces in his mind’s eye. "But it’s not the same. It’s not the same without them here."

“It’s okay to feel like that, Rand,” she said, her voice gentle, as if she could soothe some of the pain he was feeling. “I miss the Green Ajah. Saerel… so much that sometimes when I think of them, my throat closes up.”

There was a brief pause as Rand blinked tiredly, his eyes tracing over her face. It was clear he was struggling with the weight of everything they were facing. “I don’t want you hurt,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear the thought of it.”

Elyndria’s heart tightened at the rawness in his words, she opened her mouth to respond, to reassure him. But before she could speak, Rand raised his hand, gently cupping her chin, his thumb brushing over her skin. His touch was tender, even as his voice cracked with the weight of his thoughts.

“I can’t control what happens,” he continued, his voice heavy with the burden he carried. “It’ll be dangerous, beside me. I want to promise you that you’ll be safe, that we can live a good life, on some property, buy a couple of sheep…” He chuckled faintly, but the sound was empty, as if the dream of that simple life was just out of reach. His smile faded, replaced by a sorrowful look. “But all I can promise you is uncertainty.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened at his words, but she shook her head slightly, her voice unwavering despite the tremor she felt. “If it means I can stay beside you,” she said softly, her voice resolute, “I will take that uncertainty every time.”

She reached up to touch his cheek, her fingers brushing gently over his skin as their foreheads met in a soft, intimate touch. The world outside felt distant now, as if it no longer mattered. In this moment, it was just the two of them, together in the quiet. Rand closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

For a long moment, they simply stayed there, connected by the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. His thumb gently brushed back and forth on her cheek, the tender rhythm of his touch grounding her, soothing her mind and heart.

The warmth of his body beside her, the soft pulse of his touch, lulled her into a peaceful sense of calm. The worries of the world seemed to fade away, and the only thing that mattered was this moment, this closeness. As sleep slowly overtook her, Elyndria’s breath evened out, her body relaxing into the comfort of Rand’s touch. She didn’t know what the future held, but with him beside her, she felt a sense of peace. And as her eyelids fluttered shut, her last thought was that uncertainty, for all its dangers, was something she could endure—as long as it meant staying beside him.

The world outside continued on, but for a moment, Elyndria and Rand were safe in the quiet of their shared space, wrapped in the quiet promise of companionship.

---

The days passed slowly at Moiraine's family manor, each moment dragging as Elyndria walked on the edge of alertness. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting just beyond the walls, some shadow lurking at the periphery of their fragile peace.

She found herself watching the windows more than she would have liked, and every creak of the floorboards or rustle of the curtains made her tense. It was as though the manor itself held its breath, waiting for the inevitable. She stayed as close to Rand as possible, the instinct to remain by his side now a constant pull she couldn’t ignore.

Even when they did their usual routines—brief walks around the grounds or sitting quietly by the fire—there was always that thread of unease between them, an unspoken understanding that the safety they felt now might be fleeting. Every moment, she feared the quiet would be shattered. But for two days, nothing happened.

No knock on the door. No shadow across the room.

It was unnerving in its silence. But Elyndria held onto that small hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd be allowed to rest.

Moiraine had come by more than once, always as poised and composed as ever. But even Elyndria could see the edges of her concern, the small glimmer of doubt in her gaze whenever she checked in on them. Each time, Moiraine would ask the same question: Has Lanfear tried to contact you in your dreams?

Each time, Elyndria had to say no, and each time, Rand would give a terse response, his hands fidgeting in that way she had come to know meant he was restless. They hadn’t heard from Lanfear. No whispers in the dark. No temptations. But Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

That night, as they lay together in bed—so close she could feel the faintest pulse of his heartbeat—her dreams came again.

At first, they were indistinct—flashes of images she couldn’t quite grasp. The heavy smell of smoke, a cacophony of screaming voices.

She recognized none of the faces, but the weight of the loss was too familiar. The overwhelming sense of helplessness, of watching something burn and crumble beyond her control, squeezed her chest in a way she couldn’t explain. She stood amidst it all, unable to move, as if frozen in place, just out of reach of the people who cried for her.

But when she woke, the room was still and the weight of the dream lingered like smoke in the air. She couldn't quite place it. Her heart thudded in her chest as she turned over to look at Rand, his chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of sleep. She reached out instinctively, her fingers grazing his skin. But the sense of dread from the dream was still with her.

The faces in the flames, their screams, their desperate reach for her, felt too real. And yet, she didn’t recognize them.

Her throat tightened. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important—those people, those screams. “Rand?” Her voice was quiet, unsure if she truly wanted him to wake or not.

He stirred slightly, blinking against the night’s dimness. “What is it, Elyndria?” His voice was groggy but concerned, his hand reaching for her instinctively, as if he sensed her discomfort.

“I—” She hesitated, unsure if she should mention the dreams. She wasn’t even sure herself what to make of them. “I had another dream. The one with the fire. The people I feel like I should know, but... I don’t. It feels like I’m missing something.”

Rand’s brow furrowed, his fingers brushing across her cheek in that gentle way he did when he was unsure what to say. “I don’t understand... Could it be from everything we’ve been through? The stress?” He paused, his gaze searching hers. “Or is it... something more? Maybe Lanfear. You haven’t had these dreams in a while”

“Maybe it’s just the stress.” Elyndria sighed. She had been watching for any sign of Lanfear’s influence, and she hadn’t felt the pull of her presence in her dreams. No. Lanfear hadn’t touched her dreams

Rand nodded slowly, pulling her closer, as if by holding her, he could protect her from whatever else might come. “I’m here. Try to go back to sleep.”

Chapter 19: Torn between two choices

Elyndria’s eyes fluttered open, the sunlight streaming in through the curtains of the guest room. Her mind was still foggy from the restless sleep she'd had, but as soon as she turned her head, she saw Rand pacing back and forth, his movements sharp and agitated.

His brow was furrowed, and the tense set of his shoulders only added to the weight of the situation.

Something was wrong.

She sat up quickly, her heart racing as she reached for him.

"Rand, what’s wrong?" He didn’t immediately respond, continuing his restless back-and-forth. Elyndria’s chest tightened in worry. She swung her legs off the bed and stood, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “Rand, please, talk to me. What happened?”

Finally, he stopped and turned to face her, his face drawn and pale, his eyes wide with anxiety.

“They have Egwene,” he said, his voice strained, almost breaking. "Ishamael has her in Falme."

Elyndria’s stomach dropped at the words. She could feel her heart sink with the weight of his fear. “What? Rand... Are you sure?”

Rand nodded, his fists clenching by his sides. He looked at her with a mixture of anger and desperation.

"Lanfear showed it in my dream last night, after you went back to sleep." He hesitated for a moment, eyes hardening. “I know it’s a Forsaken, and I know we can’t trust them, but Elyndria… I saw her. Egwene was terrified. I know it’s real. I just know it.”

Elyndria’s breath caught, her heart racing.

She hesitated, her mind racing as she tried to find something, anything, that could make this feel less real. "Are you sure she’s not lying? Lanfear is a master at manipulation. Could it have been another trick?"

Rand’s gaze darkened, his frustration evident.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I know what I saw. I felt it. Egwene was scared, trapped... She’s in danger, Elyndria.”

Elyndria closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her racing thoughts. She couldn’t let herself fall into panic—not now.

Not when Rand was relying on her.

“Okay,” she whispered, opening her eyes to meet his. "What do you want to do?"

Rand’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of their situation had crushed him. "Moiraine won’t let us leave. She won’t approve, she won’t let us go after Egwene. She’s already warned us about running headfirst into danger. But if we stay, if we do nothing..."

Elyndria nodded, understanding the frustration in his words.

“No, she won’t. You’re right. She’ll try to stop us. But…” She took a deep breath, stepping closer to him, her voice steady but quiet. "That’s why we’ll sneak out of here.”

Rand’s eyes shot up to meet hers, his expression filled with disbelief and relief. "What?"

She gave him a small, determined smile. "We’ll sneak out. If Moiraine won’t help us, we’ll go without her."

Rand stared at her for a long moment, his jaw clenching again, the storm of emotions still swirling inside him.

Finally, he let out a shaky breath, his lips tugging into a small, reluctant smile. "I don’t deserve you, Elyndria. But… thank you. If you’re with me, then I’m not going to sit around and wait for something bad to happen."

Elyndria placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "You don’t have to thank me, Rand. We’re in this together. Always."

Rand nodded, and for a moment, the tension in his face seemed to ease, just slightly. But the urgency of the situation still hung in the air between them. They had to move quickly, and they had to be smart.

Time was running out for Egwene, and they couldn’t afford to waste it.

“We should get ready,” Elyndria said softly, her voice steady. “We can’t waste any more time.”

Rand nodded again, his determination returning. "Right. Let’s go."

Elyndria's heart pounded in her chest as she followed Rand silently through the hallways of Moiraine’s manor, her footsteps light, careful not to make a sound that could wake the others. She glanced over at Rand, who was leading the way with quiet determination, his face drawn tight with anxiety and worry.

She knew this was it. There was no turning back.

But still, the guilt gnawed at her.

They were sneaking out. Leaving in the early morning, without a word to Moiraine. She knew why Moiraine had kept them safe here, why she’d wanted Rand to stay hidden, away from the dangers the Forsaken represented.

But Elyndria also understood Rand. If she hadn’t agreed to go with him, he would’ve gone on his own. And she couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything they had been through together. She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it.

The thought of leaving Moiraine behind felt like a knife twisting in her gut. Moiraine had given them shelter, provided what they needed, and kept them safe in this moment of uncertainty. She knew the Aes Sedai would be furious when she found out they’d left. Elyndria could already hear her in her mind, the stern warning she would have given about the dangers of listening and trusting a Forsaken's words.

But they couldn’t let Egwene stay in Ishamael’s clutches. They couldn’t sit idly by while another one of Rand’s friends suffered.

Rand had to act. He needed to act. And Elyndria couldn’t bear the thought of him facing the danger alone. Not again.

But even as Elyndria followed Rand, something tugged at her, a feeling she couldn’t shake.

What if they were walking straight into a trap?

What if this was exactly what the Forsaken wanted?

They were powerful, beyond anything Elyndria could truly comprehend. And she had no doubt that the Forsaken knew they would come after Egwene. They were too clever to let Rand and her slip past unnoticed. Every moment felt like a step closer to disaster.

She’d faced the Dark One’s forces before.

She had seen their power firsthand. But nothing had prepared her for what a Forsaken could do. Their strength in the One Power was unlike anything Elyndria had seen. She knew the basics; the teachings of the White Tower, the balance between strength and control. But the Forsaken were creatures of nightmare, their strength terrifying, their knowledge ancient and far-reaching.

Her own connection to the One Power was still growing. She was strong, she knew that.

But was she strong enough to stand against someone like Lanfear?

Or Ishamael?

Could she protect Rand, protect herself, if they came face to face with one of them?

Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed them against her cloak, feeling the cold air slip through the cracks of the manor. A part of her wondered if they would ever see Moiraine again.

Would they make it out alive?

Would they be able to save Egwene and return to the safety of the manor before anything else went wrong?

Elyndria shook her head, willing herself to focus. No. They had to do this. They couldn’t let fear or doubt stop them.

“Rand,” she said softly, breaking the silence between them as they reached the door. He stopped, turning to face her. His eyes were tired, and the lines of worry were deep on his face, but there was something else in them now. A fire. A determination. Elyndria had seen that fire in his eyes before. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of facing them. Lanfear... Ishamael...”

Rand didn’t speak right away, his gaze steady, and when he finally did, his voice was low but full of that same resolve. “I know you are. I am too. But we have to this. We’ll be okay”

She nodded, trying to hold back the lump in her throat.

She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that they could make it through this, but doubt still lingered in the back of her mind. She couldn’t deny the fear. She couldn’t deny the terror that threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of confronting the Forsaken, of battling something so far beyond their abilities.

But there was no other choice. If they didn’t act now, they might lose everything. And she couldn’t let that happen. Not after all they had been through.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, a final determination settling over her. “Let’s get Egwene back.”

With one last glance at the manor they were leaving behind, Elyndria stepped out beside Rand, her heart heavy with uncertainty but her resolve stronger than ever.

They had to face the darkness, together. And she wouldn’t let her fear stop them.

It didn’t take them long to leave the city of Cairhien before they were back into the familiar streets of Foregate. This had been their home for five months, a place that had once felt like a refuge in the midst of chaos.

But now, as they moved past familiar streets and sights, she realized with a heavy heart that they would never return here again. The marketplace, the river, the inn where they had found warmth and safety. Those were the places she would miss most.

The memories of her time here were so vivid, so rich with moments of joy and sorrow, of shared laughter and quiet evenings with Rand. But now, as they walked past a tavern, it felt like they were closing the door on a chapter of their lives.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Rand suddenly stopped, his eyes narrowing as he looked into the tavern. His shoulders tensed, and his brow furrowed in a way Elyndria had come to recognize as concern or something more urgent.

"Rand?" she asked, her voice soft with curiosity.

Without answering, Rand was already moving toward the tavern, his pace quick and determined. Elyndria blinked in confusion before hurrying to catch up with him.

What was going on? Why had he reacted like that?

She entered the tavern right behind him, and the noise of the crowd hit her immediately. The clink of dice, the murmur of voices, and laughter filled the room.

Rand stopped in his tracks, and she followed his gaze to a small group gathered around a table, playing some kind of game with dice.

One voice rose above the rest, deep and loud. "So, we are going for a hard eight, yes?"

Elyndria's heart skipped a beat as she saw Rand tense beside her. "Oh, Light…" he muttered, and she saw him stiffen. She followed his gaze, her eyes widening in recognition.

It was Mat.

Her heart caught in her throat as she saw him sitting at the table, his hair longer than when she last saw him, but otherwise unchanged.

Mat looked up just as Rand stepped forward, his face lighting up with surprise. He jumped up, clambering over the people sitting next to him, knocking chairs aside as he rushed to Rand.

"Rand!" Mat exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and joy. "What in Light’s name are you doing in Cairhien?" He pulled Rand into a tight hug, and Rand, still in a daze, hugged him back just as fiercely. "And where's your hair?" Mat laughed. "Mate, you look bloody awful."

Rand chuckled weakly, but his eyes were haunted, as though the weight of everything that had happened was settling back in.

"Wh-Where’s everyone else?" Mat asked, pulling back slightly but still gripping Rand’s shoulders. "Are they here? Where's... where’s Perrin? Egwene?"

Rand hesitated, his words catching in his throat. "I, uh..." he started, not sure how to explain everything. His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at Mat. "It's complicated."

Mat didn’t wait for a long answer, though.
With a grin, he slapped Rand on the back.

"It’s a good thing I’ve got nothing but time," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Now, this first round’s on you, mate, given that you bollocksed up my roll." He grinned, clearly trying to lighten the mood. It was then that Mat finally noticed Elyndria standing beside Rand. He blinked, his eyes scanning her with a hint of recognition. "Oh, the Green Aes Sedai is still with you," he remarked with a casual wave.

Elyndria’s lips twitched into a small half-hearted smile.

Rand spoke up quickly, seeming eager to talk with his old friend. One that he hadn’t seen since Mat stayed behind, instead of entering the waygate."We should go sit down. We need to talk."

Mat grinned, nodding. "Aye, I figured. Come on, let’s find a table so we can talk."

He led the way toward a small table at the back of the tavern. As they sat down, Elyndria’s mind was racing. She hadn’t expected to run into Mat here, not like this. Mat’s easygoing manner was at odds with the tension that gripped Elyndria’s chest.

It was strange that he was here. So far from Tar Valon, where he had stayed behind instead of travelling with the group so long ago.

Rand shifted in his seat, looking down at the table, his hands clenched tightly.

“After we went through the Waygate, we ended up in Fal Dara," he began, his voice quiet but steady. "While we were there, I realized... it was me. That I was the Dragon Reborn."

Mat blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised.

"Light. Here I was thinking that all that stuff the Blue Aes Sedai was saying was just full of shit." He let out a low whistle, clearly stunned by the revelation.

Rand chuckled weakly, the sound almost hollow.

"I wish it was a lie. Moiraine, Elyndria and I went to the Eye of the World, and I thought I defeated the Dark One." He sighed deeply, his voice growing darker. "Turns out all I did was break a few Forsaken out of their jails. Not much of a hero, am I?"

Elyndria felt a tightness in her chest.

She knew how hard this was for him to admit, but it was so much more than he was saying. He had carried the weight of this responsibility on his own, and now he was struggling to be the hero everyone wanted. She reached out and placed a hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

"Rand," she said softly, her voice full of warmth and reassurance. "You're not a failure. What you did, what you're doing, it matters."

Rand glanced over at her, his shoulders slumping further, as if the weight of the world had settled on them.

“It’s the truth," he muttered, the words almost too heavy for him to say. His gaze fell back to the table, and he seemed lost in the moment, caught in his own thoughts.

Mat, however, wasn’t going to let the conversation sit there. He broke the silence with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "

”All right, you fucked up a bit. It happens," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of humor. "You gonna tell me where the others are, or what?"

Rand looked up at him, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He let out a deep breath before speaking again.

“Last year, when I thought I’d defeated the Dark One... I left them behind. Egwene, Perrin, Nynaeve... all of them. Mat, they think I’m dead." His voice caught, and Elyndria saw the pain behind the words. "I thought it would protect them. I thought..." He trailed off, clearly struggling to explain. "I thought everyone would be better off without me, safer."

Mat’s face softened, and for a moment, Elyndria saw the understanding between the two men.

Mat’s next words were simple but full of sincerity. "No. We’re not better off without you, Rand. I promise you that."

Rand's eyes flickered to him, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his gaze.

"We're not better off without you either, Mat," Rand replied, his voice thick. "But now he has her. Ishamael, the Forsaken. He has Egwene, in Falme. And I know they want me to go there. But if I don't go, what happens to her then?"

Elyndria’s heart clenched at the mention of Egwene. They were running out of time. The fear of facing Ishamael hung heavy in the air, but she knew they couldn’t wait any longer. She could see the resolve in Rand’s eyes, even if he didn’t fully understand his own worth.

Mat nodded, his face hardening. "So, we go. But there’s one thing I’ve got to do first. A lady’s heart I’ve got to break, in fact."

Rand blinked, taken aback. "Mat... you don’t have to come with us."

Mat leaned in, a grin spreading across his face. "Yes, I do. Who else is gonna keep you from becoming an arrogant prick? Hmm? Dragon Reborn."

Rand let out a weak laugh, shaking his head. "I’m not sure that’s a job I’d want to be stuck with."

Mat raised his mug in a mock salute. "Too bad, mate. You’re stuck with me."

Elyndria watched the exchange between the two of them, her chest heavy with the weight of the journey ahead. As much as she wanted to believe everything would be fine, there was a part of her that feared for them all. Ishamael, Egwene... She couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead. But she also knew, in the quiet recesses of her mind, that they would face whatever came together.

"One hour," Rand finally said, his voice firm but softer than before. "I’ll see you at the gate."

Mat clapped him on the back, standing up with a grin. "I’ll be there. No one’s stopping me."

Elyndria stood as well, her hand on Rand’s arm. "You’ll need to be ready for what comes next, Mat," she said softly, but with a determination of her own. "We all will."

---

The bell tolled, its chime echoing through the Foregate, marking the passing of an hour. The sound sent a weight sinking into Elyndria’s chest.

Mat was late.

Rand let out a slow sigh, running a hand over his scalp. "We can’t wait any longer. We’ll have to go."

Elyndria nodded, though hesitation gnawed at the edges of her resolve. Every second they lingered felt like another moment wasted, another moment Egwene remained in Ishamael’s grasp. And yet, leaving Mat behind felt wrong. He had said he would come.

Still, they had no choice.

Without another word, they turned and stepped through the entrance gates, the cool night air brushing against Elyndria’s skin as they moved into the open road beyond the city.

Then they stopped.

Two figures stood in their path, dark silhouettes against the dim glow of the Foregate behind them. The firelight from nearby torches flickered across their faces, revealing the hard set of Lan’s jaw and the unwavering gaze of Saerel.

Elyndria almost stumbled on her feet as she saw Saerel staring at her. It had been so long since she saw her mentor.

She looked exactly the same since the last time she saw her so many months ago. Her dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail; her Green Ajah cloak looking impeccable as always, no sign of Foregate’s dirt on her clothes.

Rand stiffened beside her. "Lan," he said, his voice unreadable.

The Warder’s eyes didn’t waver. His stance was solid, unyielding. "I’m sorry. I can’t let you leave."

Rand stepped forward, his tone edged with frustration. “You can’t let me? Since when do you decide what I can and can’t do?" There was a storm brewing beneath Rand’s words, barely restrained. Elyndria could feel it; his frustration, his confusion, his desperation all tangling together.

Lan didn’t react. He stood like a mountain, unwavering.

“The Amyrlin Seat is in Cairhien,” he said, each word heavy. “She knows you are the Dragon Reborn. She has come with fourteen Aes Sedai by her side.”

Elyndria’s stomach dropped. No. No, no, no. Her breath hitched, a sharp intake of air. Moiraine wouldn’t have told her. She wouldn’t have.

“She knows?” Rand's voice wavered. “How?”

A thick silence stretched between them. Then Saerel spoke.

“Moiraine didn’t tell the Amyrlin Seat,” she said. Her voice was calm. Too calm. It sent ice skittering down Elyndria’s spine. “He did.”

Elyndria barely processed the words before she felt the world tilt.

Rand inhaled sharply. “What?” Lan’s expression remained unreadable. Rand’s breath came hard and fast. “Why?”

Elyndria's thoughts raced, colliding into one another. Lan wouldn’t—he wouldn’t betray Moiraine like that. He wouldn’t betray them.

Lan’s voice remained steady. “Because you need protection. And she cannot give it to you.”

Rand shook his head in disbelief. "Moiraine trusts you. You are her Warder. You—"

"Did she tell you," Lan interrupted, his voice quieter now, "that she has been stilled since the Eye of the World?"

The words slammed into Elyndria like a physical blow.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Moiraine. Stilled. Her stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in her throat.

Stilled. It was worse than death.

The One Power—the thing that made them Aes Sedai, the thing that gave them purpose, strength, identity—ripped away. Gone. Most who were stilled didn’t last more than a few weeks. They simply… faded. Withered away, lost in the emptiness left behind.

Elyndria’s heart pounded. How had she not noticed?

Moiraine had been different; distant, quieter, more restrained. But Elyndria had assumed it was simply her, that she had grown weary of the burdens she carried.

But no. This was different. This was loss.

Rand’s expression was unreadable, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not possible.”

"It is," Lan said simply.

Elyndria clenched her hands into fists, trying to ground herself, to still the tremor in her chest.

Rand’s voice hardened. “That still doesn’t explain why you told the Amyrlin Seat.”

The words were barely out before Elyndria found herself speaking, her voice unsteady but sharp. "Moiraine didn’t want people to know about Rand." The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. "You know what the Tower will do, Lan. They’ll either try to gentle him, or—"

"Enough." Saerel’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade.

Elyndria froze, her whole body locking in place. Saerel’s eyes bore into her, cold and piercing.

"You will stop speaking, girl," Saerel commanded. Elyndria swallowed hard, but Saerel wasn’t finished. "You are fortunate that Lan told the Amyrlin Seat that Moiraine ordered you to accompany Rand," Saerel continued. "That you had no choice in the matter." Elyndria’s pulse thrummed wildly, but Saerel’s voice remained steady, merciless. "But we both know the truth, don’t we?" Her tone was quiet but weighted. Elyndria’s mouth went dry. "If anyone else finds out you chose to leave willingly with the Dragon Reborn," Saerel paused for a moment, "you will either be caged… or stilled."

The final word sent a violent shudder through Elyndria’s body. To be caged. To be stilled. She had always known the risks. She had understood the moment she walked away from the Tower that she might never be able to return. But hearing it spoken aloud, cold and absolute, made it real in a way she wasn’t ready for.

Saerel was right.

The Tower did not forgive. They would not forget.

Elyndria forced herself to lift her chin, to meet Saerel’s gaze. Her stomach churned, her pulse erratic, but she did not falter. “I did what was right.”

Rand let out a sharp sigh, frustration clearly etched across his face. The tension in his shoulders was unbearable as he took a step forward, his voice rising in a mix of desperation and determination.

“Look, we have to go. A Forsaken named Ishamael has Egwene in Falme. We have to save her,” Rand’s words tumbled out, his breath coming quicker now, and the weight of everything pressing down on him.

His eyes shone with urgency, as if the clock was ticking on Egwene’s life with every second they wasted. Elyndria could feel his desperation rippling in the air between them, could hear the raw emotion in his voice as he tried to make them understand. 

But then Lan spoke, his voice calm but firm, cutting through Rand’s urgency like a knife.

“I’m sorry, Rand,” Lan said, his voice softer than before, though there was still the hard edge of someone who had made a decision long ago. “Even if I let you walk past us, there are other Aes Sedai further behind. You can’t leave either way.”

Rand’s jaw tightened, the frustration in his expression shifting into a stubborn resolve that Elyndria knew well. He was not one to be easily swayed. Not when he thought someone’s life was at stake. Not when it was one of his friends.

“Come with me to the Amyrlin Seat,” Lan continued, his voice steady and unyielding. “Coming with me will be more...gentler. You can tell her about the Forsaken. I’m sure she will listen to you. She is a smart woman.”

Elyndria saw Rand’s lips purse, his expression faltering as the weight of Lan’s words pressed down on him. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and she could feel the last of his resolve slipping away, as if he had no choice but to yield to the situation. He could argue all he wanted, but Lan’s logic made sense. There was no escaping it.

The Amyrlin Seat, in all her power, was a force to be reckoned with. And the Forsaken...they were a threat that could not be ignored.

Elyndria’s heart sank with him, knowing that the very thing they had been running from—facing the Amyrlin Seat—was now an unavoidable reality. They would be staying in Cairhien longer than they ever wanted to.

Saerel stepped forward then, her presence as commanding as always. She didn’t need to speak, yet her gaze was sharp and her intentions clear.

She held her hand out to Elyndria, a silent command in the motion.

“Come,” she ordered.

Elyndria hesitated, her eyes flickering to Rand, who still stood there, silently grappling with the decision.

His defeat was evident, but there was still a flicker of hope in his eyes that maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of this mess. She could see it, could feel it in the tension of his posture, but the words had already been said.

She swallowed hard, torn between the duty she felt to Rand and the cold reality of the situation.

“I can’t—” she began to protest, her voice soft but thick with emotion. She wasn’t sure if it was for herself or for Rand, but there was something inside her screaming to fight.

“You will not be going with him,” Saerel said sharply, cutting off her protest. “It is not you the Amyrlin Seat wants to see.”

Elyndria froze, the sharpness of Saerel’s command leaving no room for argument. She glanced between Lan, Saerel, and Rand, her mind spinning.

For a few long moments, Elyndria stood, the silence stretching between them, before she finally nodded defeatedly. It wasn’t a choice. It was a submission to fate.

She turned toward Saerel, taking one last, lingering look at Rand. His face was shadowed, his eyes tired, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He had been so sure of himself, so full of fire and purpose just a week ago. But now... now he looked like a man on the edge, a man who had been pushed to the limits of his strength. Elyndria's heart twisted at the sight of him, but she knew there was nothing she could do to change this. She had to follow Saerel.

With a final, lingering glance at him, she placed her hand into Saerel’s, the older woman’s grip tight and firm, as though pulling her along on a path that had already been set in motion.

Saerel didn’t wait for her to catch up or offer any more words of comfort. She simply turned and began to lead Elyndria away, her pace quick and purposeful.

Elyndria walked with her, but every step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of the world was pressing on her chest.

She glanced behind her at Rand who was watching her walk away with a helpless glint in his eyes before he too was pulled away in the other direction Lan.

---

They were no longer in the streets of Foregate but instead they were in Cairhien where the streets were bustling, the lights of the city casting long shadows on the cobblestone paths as Saerel led Elyndria through them.

The air was thick with the sounds of merchants calling their wares and the soft shuffle of hurried footsteps, but Elyndria could hardly hear any of it. Her mind was a whirl of confusion and apprehension.

Saerel’s grip on her arm was firm, guiding her forward without a word. They passed through winding alleys and crowded streets until they came to a building far grander than any Elyndria had imagined; a tall, imposing structure, with marble columns and elegant carvings.

It was nothing like the cozy inn she and Rand had called home these past months. This was an inn for nobility, a place where the wealthy and powerful came to rest, to be seen, to exchange whispers behind closed doors.

As they stepped inside, Elyndria couldn’t help but feel out of place, the stark difference between this place and the humble inn she’d grown accustomed to making her skin prickle uncomfortably. The quiet murmur of noblemen’s conversations echoed in the grand hallway as Saerel led her up a sweeping staircase, the rich velvet carpets beneath their feet muting their footsteps.

When they reached the top, Saerel led her to a room at the end of a long corridor, the door creaking softly as she pushed it open.

Elyndria stepped into the room, the soft glow of candlelight spilling across dark wood furniture and luxurious fabrics. The bed was large, its canopy draped in rich silks.

The room was magnificent, a far cry from the warmth and familiarity of the room she’d shared with Rand.

Saerel closed the door behind them with a soft click, and Elyndria stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to place her hands. She crossed her arms over her stomach, a small attempt at comfort, though it did little to calm the storm inside her.

Elyndria felt like a child waiting for a scolding, standing in the middle of a world she no longer recognized.

Saerel’s gaze was sharp, assessing, as she turned to face her. Elyndria couldn’t meet her eyes at first, too consumed by the overwhelming sense of unease, but when she finally did, she saw the way Saerel was looking at her, as if seeing something new, something different.

Saerel’s voice broke the silence, cool and calculating. "You’ve grown."

Elyndria managed a weak chuckle, the sound hollow in her own ears. "Not really. I haven’t grown an inch since you last saw me."

Saerel’s lips tightened slightly, a flicker of something passing through her expression.

"Not in that way," she corrected, her gaze narrowing. "You hold yourself differently now. There’s a look in your eyes... one that I don’t recognize."

Elyndria’s heart tightened at her words.

A look she doesn’t recognize?

She felt that. She knew it.

But what had changed about her?

What had happened to her that made Saerel notice?

Elyndria swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of how to answer. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling the awkwardness of the moment settle in. 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, betraying the uncertainty swirling inside her.

Saerel was silent for a moment, her gaze intense as she studied Elyndria. Elyndria waited, holding her breath, feeling the tension stretch between them. Saerel’s eyes flicked to the door, as if considering something, before she finally spoke.

"I suppose I’ll have to see, won’t I?" she said, her tone sharp and unreadable.

Elyndria didn’t know how to respond to that. She could feel the weight of Saerel’s words settling into her chest like a heavy stone. She wanted to say something, to argue, to defend herself, but she couldn’t find the words. She knew what she had done, what she had chosen, and she couldn’t pretend it was all right. It wasn’t.

But how could she ever go back?

How could she walk away from Rand now, when she had already given so much of herself to him?

To their journey?

How could she stand here, safe and sheltered, while he… while he fought against a world that seemed determined to tear him apart?

Elyndria looked down at her hands, her mind spinning with a hundred different thoughts, each one more complicated than the last.

She wanted to tell Saerel that she wasn’t the same person she had been when she first entered the Tower. That she had changed, but not just in the ways Saerel saw.

Her heart, her soul, had changed. But no words came. Only the quiet, oppressive silence of the room hung between them, stretching endlessly as Saerel watched her, waiting, judging.

Finally, Elyndria lifted her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not sure who I am anymore, Saerel."

Saerel didn’t reply at first, but the look she gave Elyndria spoke volumes. It wasn’t a look of pity, or sympathy, or even disappointment.

It was… something else. Something Elyndria couldn’t quite place. 

“Maybe that’s the problem," Saerel said after a long pause, her voice a little softer now, but still carrying the weight of authority. "You’re not supposed to know who you are yet, Elyndria. Not until you’ve fully chosen the path you want to walk."

Her words stung, but Elyndria knew they were true.

She hadn’t fully chosen yet. She had never fully chosen. She was now torn between her duties and her heart, her loyalty to the Tower and her loyalty to Rand. And now… now she had to face the consequences.

Elyndria’s gaze remained fixed on Saerel, but the intensity of her mentor’s stare made her feel small. It was a sensation Elyndria hadn’t experienced in a long time, not since she was younger, still learning the ways of the White Tower, still seeking approval, still trying to prove herself worthy of the Aes Sedai mantle.

And now, standing before Saerel, she felt like that child again; vulnerable, exposed.

Her throat tightened, and she could feel the sweat gathering in her palms. She clenched her hands into tight fists by her sides, trying to suppress the nervous tremors that threatened to betray her.

Finally, the pressure of Saerel’s unrelenting gaze became too much. Elyndria stepped over to the bed and sat down heavily, her body collapsing onto the plush surface as if it could somehow support the weight of her thoughts. She let out a long, shaky sigh, staring down at her hands. The nervous energy surged through her, and she wiped her hands on the fabric of her dress, hoping the small motion would ground her in the moment.

Saerel didn’t say anything, but the silence between them was deafening.

Elyndria couldn’t bear it for long. Her thoughts spilled out in a rush, a confession she had held in for too long.

“I may not regret going with Rand after the Eye of the Storm,” she said quietly, her voice breaking the stillness. “But I do regret leaving you... and the rest of the Green Ajah.”

Saerel shifted slightly, her posture not quite as imposing now. Elyndria noticed the subtle change in her, a tightening of her expression as her brow furrowed in response to Elyndria’s words.

Elyndria swallowed hard, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. She wasn’t sure why she was saying this now, but something about Saerel’s presence—something about the way the weight of everything had built up in her chest—made her feel the need to speak, to let these feelings out.

“I thought of you all many times,” Elyndria continued, her voice trembling slightly. “Cried sometimes… because of the guilt and sadness I held. I miss you all so much.” She paused, her heart aching with the words that followed. “I missed you, Saerel. I really did.”

The words were raw, and Elyndria felt vulnerable as they left her lips, as if by admitting her pain, she was opening herself up to judgment.

She couldn’t look at Saerel now.

Instead, she stared down at her lap, her hands trembling in her lap as her emotions swirled around her like a storm.

Saerel was silent for a long moment, and Elyndria could feel her gaze on her, heavy, but not harsh. When Saerel spoke, her voice was softer than before, though still firm.

“You made a choice, Elyndria,” Saerel said quietly, her tone measured. “It was a difficult one. One I can’t pretend to fully understand, but I respect it.”

Elyndria looked up at her, her eyes searching Saerel’s face for any sign of judgment, any sign that her mentor thought less of her. But there was nothing in Saerel’s expression but calm.

“You were young then,” Saerel continued. “And you are young now, but you are not the same person you were when you left. You’ve changed. I can see that in your eyes.”

Elyndria opened her mouth to speak, but Saerel raised a hand, silencing her. “Don’t apologize, Elyndria. You’re here now. And that’s what matters. You’re here, and you’re standing before me as you are. No longer a child, but an adult who has walked a path that none of us could have anticipated. A path you chose whether it was out of duty or necessity. But it is your path, and you’ve walked it with strength, even if it might have not always felt that way."

Elyndria’s breath caught in her chest as Saerel’s words settled over her, a slow warmth creeping through her.

She had expected judgment, perhaps even reprimand, but instead, Saerel’s words wrapped around her like a blanket, offering not absolution, but understanding. It was more than she could have hoped for. Her heart ached with the weight of it.

How long had she held onto this guilt?

How long had she believed that leaving the Green Ajah, leaving Saerel, had been a betrayal?

And yet, Saerel didn’t seem to view it that way. Not now.

"I... I didn’t mean to make you think less of me," Elyndria said, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure why she was speaking again, but it was as if her heart just needed to let the words out. "I never wanted to disappoint you. Or any of you."

Saerel’s gaze softened, the lines of her face unclouding for a moment. “Elyndria, your choices are yours to make. And none of us, have the right to judge the path you’ve chosen. You’re not a child anymore, seeking approval. You’re an adult who has made choices, lived through pain, and come out the other side. That is something to be proud of, not ashamed of."

Elyndria let out a shaky breath, feeling something inside her shift; a small release, as though the tight grip she’d been holding on to for so long was loosening, bit by bit.

She sat there in the quiet room, taking in Saerel’s words, and for the first time in months, felt something akin to peace when it came to thinking of the Green Ajah. The overwhelming weight of regret that had been pressing on her chest began to lift, if only slightly.

But it wasn’t gone. Not yet. And perhaps it never would be.

Her thoughts turned to Rand then. To the choices he had made, to the weight he carried. She could see now that his path, like hers, had been wrought with impossible decisions. Choices made out of necessity, not selfishness.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” Elyndria admitted, her voice soft, vulnerable. “But... I’m trying. I’m trying to make things right.”

Saerel studied her for a moment and then nodded. "You are trying, Elyndria. That’s all any of us can do."

The silence that followed felt different, more comfortable than before.

Elyndria didn’t feel like she was being scrutinized. She felt as though Saerel had seen her, understood her, in a way no one else had. And in this moment, that was enough.

When Saerel turned toward the door, ready to leave, Elyndria’s gaze followed her. She wanted to say more, to ask about the Green Ajah, to talk about what it meant to leave that behind, but the words were stuck in her throat.

Perhaps some questions didn’t need answering just yet.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” Saerel said, as if reading her mind. “But you must know, Elyndria, that you are not alone. You are still part of us, whether you walk with us or not.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened at her words, and she gave a small, grateful nod.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but filled with more gratitude than she had ever thought possible.

Saerel paused at the door, her eyes locking with Elyndria’s for a moment before she stepped out, closing the door gently behind her. Left alone in the quiet of the room, Elyndria closed her eyes and let the silence wash over her, finally allowing herself a breath of relief.

The future was uncertain, fraught with danger and unknown paths. But Elyndria felt like she could face it.

---

It was night now, she could see the night sky now from the windows in the room.

The silence of the room felt oppressive, every minute dragging on as the weight of uncertainty pressed down on her. Elyndria could still feel the sting of Saerel’s words, the heavy truth of her path weighing heavily on her shoulders.

But even more pressing were the worries she couldn’t push aside—the thoughts of Rand, of Moiraine, of what the Amyrlin Seat would do.

Would they imprison Rand?

Would they demand his submission?

Or worse—would they try to control him?

And what of Moiraine?

Elyndria’s mind kept circling back to her; a woman who was now stilled, powerless. Elyndria couldn’t even begin to imagine the despair Moiraine must be feeling, the loss of her strength, her ability to channel. And yet, despite all that, Moiraine had stayed steadfast in her determination to protect Rand, to protect them all. Elyndria clenched her fists, feeling her own helplessness mirror Moiraine’s.

The tension of the room seemed to stretch for eternity, and then it happened.

The door flew open with a sudden force that made Elyndria jump.

Her breath caught as she looked up, startled. Saerel stood in the doorway, a green cloak draped over her arm, her face etched with urgency. Her eyes were wide, her movements swift and deliberate.

"Quick, put it on," Saerel ordered, tossing the cloak at Elyndria with practiced precision. The green fabric fell into her arms, and Elyndria barely had time to react before Saerel spoke again, her voice tense. "Put the hood over your head. No one can see your face. Hurry, we must make haste."

Elyndria’s heart began to race, her confusion deepening.

She stood, the cloak still in her hands, her mind a whirl of questions. "What’s happening? Where are we going?"

Saerel glanced over her shoulder, her gaze darting around the room as if expecting someone to walk in.

She spoke in a low, urgent tone, her words almost clipped. "Something’s happening in Foregate—fires, large ones. Too quick, too large for normal people to have started them. They’re spreading fast, and I fear it’s no accident. Someone has set them."

Elyndria paused, her heart skipping a beat.

A sense of dread washed over her. She couldn’t ignore the feeling that something sinister was brewing.

"An Aes Sedai?" she asked, the words slipping from her mouth before she could stop them.

Saerel’s shrug was tight, her eyes sharp as she scanned the hallway beyond the door. "Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that this is the perfect time to get you out of here."

Elyndria shook her head, instinctively stepping back. Her thoughts were still clouded with confusion and fear, and a deep hesitation rooted her in place. "No, I can’t let you. If the others find out, you helped me escape—"

"No one will know," Saerel interrupted quickly, her voice firm. She stepped into the room, grabbing Elyndria by the arm and pulling her forward with surprising strength. "All the sisters are out there, putting out the fires. No one will see us. I will lead you to where Rand, Moiraine, and Lan are. We’re getting you out of here."

Elyndria’s heart froze at the mention of Rand’s name. She had not expected Saerel to take her to him. Not like this. Not when everything was in chaos, when the city was burning.

"You’re taking me to him?" she asked, the words barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Saerel hissed, pulling her from the room. "Now, move."

Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat as she followed Saerel through the narrow hallways.

The weight of her decision felt suffocating, but the urgency in Saerel’s voice pushed her forward. She could feel the pull of the green cloak around her shoulders, the soft fabric now feeling like a shield, hiding her identity from prying eyes.

The streets outside were a mess of smoke and confusion. People ran in every direction, shouting, some carrying buckets of water to douse the flames. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning wood and the sharp crackling of fire. Panic had taken hold of the city, and Elyndria could feel it in her bones, the pulse of the chaos surrounding them.

As they rounded a corner, Saerel stopped abruptly, her gaze narrowing. She tugged Elyndria to a halt.

"Other Sisters and Warders have gotten Rand and Moiraine out of their cells," Saerel murmured, her voice low and urgent. "Not all of us believe in having the Dragon Reborn as a tool for the White Tower. Some of us….some of us are trying to help him, to keep him from being used."

Elyndria’s pulse quickened at the words.

She knew there were divisions in the White Tower, factions that saw Rand as a weapon to wield, but to hear that some Aes Sedai had already taken action to free him… it was a relief.

"Rand," Elyndria breathed, the thought of him now all-consuming. "We need to find him."

"That’s what I’m doing," Saerel replied, her tone sharp. "But we must move quickly. This is the perfect distraction, but it won’t last long. We’ll need to reach them before the fires get worse."

The tension in the air thickened as they moved deeper into the smoke-filled streets. Every step felt like they were moving closer to something monumental, something that would change everything.

Elyndria could feel the pull of her destiny, a path she couldn’t escape. Rand, Moiraine, and the others; they were all part of the whirlwind that was about to sweep them all up.

Saerel led Elyndria through the winding streets, moving swiftly, her footsteps sure and quiet.

The air around them grew thicker with smoke, and the distant crackling of the flames filled the silence, but Elyndria barely noticed. Her mind was focused on what was ahead; their destination, the moment she would see Rand again, and the uncertainty that clung to her like a heavy cloak.

They arrived at a deserted area of the city, a small, quiet corner, tucked away from the chaos and confusion of the fires. Saerel stopped, her gaze scanning the surroundings quickly, ensuring they were unobserved.

"They should be over there," Saerel said, her voice quiet but firm, pointing to a shadowed area beyond an abandoned warehouse. "Go, quickly." Elyndria nodded, her heart racing at the thought of seeing Rand.

But before she could turn to run, she felt the weight of Saerel’s gaze upon her once more. The older woman stood still, watching her with a kind of knowing in her eyes. "Go on," Saerel said, her tone soft, almost too gentle. "We will see each other again, Elyndria. I know this."

Elyndria’s breath caught in her chest. She wanted to speak, to thank Saerel for everything, but the words got caught in her throat.

So, without thinking, she turned back, walking toward her mentor. She threw her arms around Saerel, pulling her into an embrace. Saerel stiffened, surprised by the sudden affection, but Elyndria didn’t let go. She clung to her for just a moment longer than she should have, wanting to hold on to this connection, this fleeting bond that had meant so much.

For that one second, she allowed herself to feel safe in Saerel's arms, safe from the storm swirling around them.

"I promise," Elyndria whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "We will see each other again."

Saerel’s body relaxed, and though she didn’t return the hug, she allowed it. Elyndria could feel the softness of her mentor’s expression, the tenderness in her eyes as she let go. Then, with a gentle smile, Saerel took a step back.

"Take care of yourself," she said, her voice steady. "Be careful, Elyndria."

Elyndria nodded, wiping a tear that had threatened to fall.

She forced a smile of her own before turning quickly and heading toward the spot where Saerel had pointed. Her heart felt lighter somehow, the weight of her guilt, her uncertainty, eased by that brief, warm exchange.

She moved swiftly now, her footsteps sure as she made her way through the smoky streets. The air felt dense with the smell of burning wood and ash, but Elyndria barely noticed. Her thoughts were on Rand, on the promise she had made to Saerel, and on the growing certainty that she wasn’t alone in this fight.

As she rounded a corner, she saw them—Rand, Moiraine, and Lan—standing ahead in the shadows.

Her heart gave a lurch, and she couldn’t help herself. She broke into a run, her breath coming fast, her legs moving almost of their own accord.

"Rand!" she called out, her voice cutting through the smoke-filled air.

Rand spun around in an instant, his face lighting up with a mixture of surprise and relief. The sight of her, alive and unharmed, seemed to fill him with a rush of emotions.

Without hesitation, he opened his arms, and Elyndria rushed into them. They hugged tightly, almost fiercely, as if they were both reassuring each other that they were finally together again, that the storm they had weathered apart was now over.

Elyndria buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against hers. She clung to him, desperate to hold on, to feel the warmth and safety of his embrace.

"I was so worried," Elyndria whispered, her voice trembling, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the smoke or the emotions that had been bubbling inside her for so long. "I thought... I thought I might not see you again."

Rand pulled back slightly to look at her, his hands cupping her face gently.

"You’re here now," he said, his voice low but filled with relief. "That’s all that matters. You’re here."

Elyndria nodded, her throat tight. "And I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you, Rand.”

Rand’s expression softened and he pulled her back into the embrace, holding her close as if afraid to let go.

Elyndria pulled back just enough to look up at Rand, her hand resting on his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm, grounding her, reminding her that despite everything, they were still here, still together.

"Do you know what going on?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes searched the shadows around them, scanning for any sign of the Aes Sedai or dark creatures.

Rand’s expression darkened, and he looked over his shoulder toward the other two figures standing nearby—Moiraine and Lan, who were both watching them closely.

Moiraine’s usual calm demeanor seemed shaken, her face pale, her eyes clouded with worry.

"It’s Lanfear," Rand said, his voice low, tinged with annoyance. “I told her in my dreams about what happened. She knew we were trapped here. These fires have to be her doing. It gave us the distraction to get out of the cell, with some help from other Aes Sedai.”

Moiraine took a step forward, her sharp eyes locking onto Elyndria.

“You’re safe,” she said simply, though there was a sense of relief in her voice that Elyndria hadn’t heard before. “But we’re not out of danger yet.”

Elyndria nodded, her gaze flickering between Moiraine and Lan. The Warder stood by, his arms crossed, watching the street with alert eyes, ever the sentinel. She knew he wouldn’t let his guard down until they were out of the danger zone.

"What’s the plan?" Elyndria asked, her voice steady, though the turmoil inside her made it harder than usual to stay composed.

“We were going to use the Waygate to travel out of here,” Moiraine murmured, her voice tight with frustration as she stood before the ancient structure.

Elyndria turned to look at where she was pointing, and her heart sank.

A thick, solid wall of stone was built directly through the Waygate. It wasn’t magic, nor was it something easily removed. This was physical, a deliberate barricade that blocked their only route of escape.

Elyndria stepped forward, her fingers brushing the cold stone. It was smooth, with no sign of a crack or seam that could offer a way through. The Waygate should have been their path out of this place, but now it was sealed, trapped behind an impenetrable wall of stone.

“We can't get through this,” Elyndria muttered, her voice low, but there was no doubt in her tone.

Moiraine's face tightened as she surveyed the scene, her gaze flicking between the wall and the group. Her frustration was palpable, and Elyndria could see the weight of the situation pressing down on her. The Aes Sedai was not one to show weakness, but this... this was beyond her control.

“You’ll have to channel into it,” Moiraine said, her voice sharp with the urgency of the moment. “Split it open with sheer force if you have to,” she ordered, her tone commanding.

Elyndria nodded, but before she could make a move, Lan’s voice cut through the tension.

“No, she won’t. You’re going to open it,” he said, his words leaving no room for argument. His eyes locked on Moiraine, steady and firm.

Moiraine ignored him, her face contorting with pain.

Elyndria felt pity for the other Aes Sedai. She couldn’t imagine how it felt to be cut off from her power. Moiraine turned back to Elyndria, her expression pleading despite her usual composure.

“Just do it,” she said, her voice tight with the strain of the situation. “We don’t have time.”

Lan’s gaze shifted to Rand, his tone urgent. “Look at Moiraine. With the Source. Not just your eyes. What do you see?”

Rand stepped forward, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It looks like a knot tied together,” he said slowly, his voice filled with wonder and confusion. “A knot in her power.”

Elyndria’s stomach dropped as she looked at Moiraine, realization hitting her like a blow. It wasn’t just a shield or a block. It was something more intricate, something that had been deliberately woven to keep Moiraine cut off from the Source.

“That’s impossible,” Moiraine whispered, her voice shaky as she stared at Rand in disbelief. “This... this can’t be real.”

Lan stepped forward, his face hard with understanding.

“There’s a story from the Age of Legends,” he began, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. “A power the Forsaken once had, a way to tie off weaves and leave them in place. It’s a skill that’s been lost for thousands of years. But this...” He nodded toward Moiraine. “I never thought I’d see it. Not even Ishamael could have done this alone.”

Elyndria’s eyes widened as the implications of Lan’s words sank in.

The Forsaken, tied off weaves?

She focused on Moiraine and stumbled slightly as she felt the weight of the knot around Moiraine’s power, she couldn’t see it—only Rand could as female channelers couldn’t see males weaves.

“It’s a shield,” Lan continued, his tone heavy. “But it’s not just a shield. It’s a knot—a weave tied off to stop Moiraine from accessing the One Power. And that means…”

Moiraine’s voice was soft, almost reluctant, but there was a flicker of hope in her words. “It can be removed?”

Lan nodded grimly. “Yes.”

Rand looked between the two of them, his face tightening with understanding. “What do I need to do?”

Lan turned to him, his voice steady. “You don’t have the skill to untie it, Rand. And Elyndria can’t see male channellers’ weaves so you’ll have to cut it.”

Elyndria could feel the power surge around them, Rand reaching into the One Power with an intensity that made the air vibrate. His eyes locked onto the knot surrounding Moiraine, and though Elyndria couldn’t see the weaves, she could feel the focus in his movements.

Moiraine’s voice was strained as she spoke again, her words full of trust. “I trust you. Go on.”

Rand hesitated for only a moment before he struck, his hands weaving a thread of power to cut through the knot that bound Moiraine’s access to the Source.

Elyndria felt the energy pulse through the air as Rand worked, his weave slicing through the knot with precision. And then, Moiraine gasped. Elyndria watched as the tension in her body melted away.

For the first time since seeing her again in Foregate, Moiraine stood tall and strong, her connection to the One Power restored.

“I feel it,” Moiraine whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you......thank you.”

Lan’s voice broke the moment, low and filled with regret. “I’m sorry it took me so long to do my duty.”

Moiraine took a steadying breath, her hands flexing as if she were reacquainting herself with an old friend. Elyndria watched with a mixture of awe and relief as the Blue Aes Sedai raised her hands, her fingers splaying outward with an elegance that spoke of years of discipline. Moiraine’s face softened, her expression no longer clouded with frustration. The knot had been cut, and now the flow of power was clear, vibrant, and limitless. She was whole again, and there was something undeniably triumphant in the way she moved.

The stone wall in front of them, what had been their greatest obstacle, now seemed so insignificant. Moiraine’s hands began to weave the One Power effortlessly, her movements fluid as she connected with the energy around her. The air crackled with her authority, and Elyndria felt the weight of her power surge forward, pushing back the air itself.

With a low hum of concentration, Moiraine made a slow, sweeping motion with her hands, and the first cracks appeared in the solid stone wall. The sound was like thunder; loud, booming, and impossible to ignore as the wall began to split apart, stone shards tumbling to the ground. The barrier that had seemed so unbreakable was now falling apart, piece by piece.

Elyndria watched, her heart racing with admiration.

Moiraine’s control was flawless. The One Power flowed through her like a river, and the stone wall crumbled beneath her command. The rocks shattered, the sound echoing through the air as the powerful waves of energy Moiraine wielded tore it apart, turning it to rubble.

Moiraine’s face was serene now, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she worked. The knot had been broken, and now she was free to do what she did best: bend the world to her will. With one final, decisive pull of the One Power, the last remnants of the stone wall disintegrated into dust, leaving only the broken remains of what had once been a barricade.

The path forward was clear, both literally and metaphorically. Moiraine stepped forward and turned to face the Waygate. With her hands raised once again, Moiraine wove the One Power with precision and certainty. The air hummed around them, charged with an energy that made

Elyndria’s skin tingle. She could feel the tension build, the anticipation in the air, as Moiraine began to shape the flow of energy toward the ancient portal.

The stone of the Waygate itself seemed to shudder as Moiraine’s weave took hold. The structure, once silent and dormant, began to glow with faint lines of light, as if it recognized the power she wielded. With a final, controlled surge of energy, Moiraine pushed the weave forward, and the Waygate’s surface rippled like water.

The stone, which had once been a barrier, now parted, creating an opening. A portal that stretched wide before them. The Waygate was open, a shimmering doorway to whatever lay on the other side.

Moiraine’s hands dropped to her sides, her breath coming in a quiet, steady rhythm. She looked back at the group, her expression filled with a mixture of triumph and relief.

“It’s done,” she said softly.

But before they could move, the Amyrlin Seat herself entered the courtyard. Siuan’s voice rang out, cold and commanding. “Close the Waygate, Moiraine. Now.”

Moiraine froze, her face pale as she turned to face the Amyrlin Seat. “No,” she whispered.

Siuan raised her hand, and without hesitation, she struck. A shield of air slammed into Rand, locking him in place.

"Stop! No!" Lan shouted, his voice filled with disbelief as he rushed forward, but Siuan’s power sent him flying aside with a force that left him gasping for air.

“Rand!” Elyndria called out, desperate.

She ran toward him, her heart pounding, but before she could reach him, Siuan extended her will, weaving a complicated pattern of air and earth. The pressure of the weaves closed in around Elyndria, weighing her down, and with a sharp gasp, she collapsed onto her knees, the ground beneath her hard and unforgiving.

The strength of the shields on Rand and Elyndria kept them immobile, but the strain of the situation was visible in the air—thick, heavy, and oppressive.

“You lied to me about being stilled,” Siuan said coldly, her voice full of betrayal. “Close the Waygate, Moiraine. You swore to obey me on the Oath Rod. An unbreakable oath, bound by the One Power.”

Moiraine stood still, her face tight with emotion, her hands trembling.

“I cannot,” she replied, the pain in her voice evident. “I’ve been more truthful with you than anyone else.”

Siuan’s eyes darkened, the frustration on her face growing. “We failed, Moiraine. At the Eye of the World, you failed. The stakes are too high to fail again. Close the Waygate.”

“No.” Moiraine’s voice was steady, but a deep sorrow lingered beneath her words.

Siuan’s expression hardened. “I don’t want to force you. You swore to obey me on the Oath Rod. An unbreakable oath, bound by the One Power.”

“Please, Siuan…” Moiraine’s voice cracked as she spoke her name, her eyes full of unspoken emotions.

Siuan’s gaze remained unwavering. “Close it.”

Moiraine looked away for a moment, her breath catching.  “Siuan…” she whispered, the weight of the unspoken history between them hanging heavy in the air.

Siuan’s words were cold, commanding. “Moiraine Damodred…”

Moiraine’s voice trembled as she fought against the compulsion to obey. “No, if you have ever loved me, don’t do this.”

Siuan’s expression did not soften. “...I command you... to close the Waygate.”

It was as if something snapped within Moiraine.

Her resistance crumbled, and she turned slowly, her hands trembling as she channeled the One Power. With a final, reluctant gesture, she closed the Waygate.

The portal shimmered and collapsed, sealing the path forward. Moiraine gasped, as though the act drained something from her soul.

And then, in the midst of the tension, the air shifted again. Lanfear had entered the courtyard.

“Lanfear,” Moiraine whispered, her voice tinged with a mixture of dread and resolve.

Lanfear’s laugh was cold, cruel, echoing in the stillness of the courtyard. The woman’s presence was like a black cloud hovering over them all.

Siuan turned to Lanfear, her expression filled with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“You!” she spat, raising her hands in a defiant gesture, but Lanfear’s response was swift and brutal. With a flick of her fingers, Siuan was thrown back, her body slamming against the ground with a heavy thud.

As Siuan lay bleeding on the stone, Elyndria felt the oppressive weight of the shield lift from her. She stood shakily, her legs unsteady, but she managed to find her balance. Lanfear’s gaze moved to her next, her cold eyes assessing. Just as she raised her hand to strike again, Rand stepped between them, his form solid and protective.

“No,” Rand said, his voice firm and commanding, his posture unwavering.

Lanfear’s gaze flickered to him, her lips curling into a predatory smile.

“I told you the next time I saw you together, I’d kill them,” she reminded him, her voice laced with malicious satisfaction.

Rand’s eyes burned with intensity as he faced Lanfear, his words leaving no room for argument. “You’re not going to touch them. Not Moiraine, and not Elyndria. Not if you want my help.”

Lanfear’s smile widened. “Every day you grow more like Lews. Lucky for you, a broken Amyrlin is more useful to me than a dead one.”

With a flick of her wrist, Lanfear stepped past Rand, and without hesitation, she channeled the One Power. The air shimmered with the strength of her weaves as she reached out to open the Waygate once more. A small flame lit in her hand, a torch created with a flick of the power.

Siuan’s voice, weak and strained, broke through the chaos.

“Moiraine, please,” she whispered, her body still bleeding on the ground.

The world around Elyndria felt heavy, like the air itself had thickened with the weight of the moment. Every breath was strained, every movement sluggish, as if time were fighting against her.

Siuan’s voice rang in her ears, sharp and desperate. The Amyrlin Seat, broken and bleeding, had pleaded with Moiraine, her words filled with something more than just authority; there had been pain, sorrow.

Elyndria stood beside Rand, her pulse pounding in her throat as she looked to Moiraine. The Blue Aes Sedai stood frozen, her face carved from stone, but Elyndria could see it. The battle raging behind those calm blue eyes.

She heard the plea in Lan’s voice next, saw the way he stepped toward Moiraine, his usually stoic mask cracked with something close to desperation.

“Moiraine, please.”

Lan’s voice was low, quiet, but Elyndria felt the impact of it in her chest.

The bond between them was undeniable, just as the bond between Moiraine and Siuan had been undeniable. And yet, Elyndria knew that in this moment, there was only one path forward.

They had to leave.

Rand shifted beside her, his stance steady, protective, and Elyndria suddenly realized that Moiraine wasn’t just looking at them—she was seeing them. Her gaze moved between Rand and Elyndria, lingering on the two of them as they stood side by side.

Elyndria could feel it, the weight of their need, their silent plea for her to come with them. They needed her. She was their guide, their anchor in a storm neither of them yet fully understood. Without her, they were lost.

Moiraine’s lips parted, but no words came. Instead, her gaze flickered back to Siuan, lying on the ground, then to Lan, and finally, back to Rand and Elyndria. Something shifted in her expression, something Elyndria couldn’t quite name.

Was it regret?

Resolve?

A final, painful acceptance?

Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, Moiraine turned toward the Waygate. The shimmering portal stood open, Lanfear’s power holding it steady.

Elyndria didn’t look at the Forsaken, didn’t dare acknowledge the woman’s presence. Right now, Lanfear didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except moving forward.

Rand was the first to step through, his shoulders squared, his head high, his presence radiating the kind of strength Elyndria had come to rely on. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back. He simply moved.

Elyndria swallowed hard and followed, her feet feeling like lead as she forced herself forward.

As she reached the threshold, she turned her head, just for a second, and met Moiraine’s gaze. There was something in her eyes, something Elyndria wished she had the time to understand.

But there was no time. There never was.

Moiraine stepped forward. The Waygate shimmered around them, swallowing them whole, and the world they left behind faded into silence.

---

Elyndria walked cautiously behind Lanfear, her steps measured and deliberate as they moved through the eerie, endless expanse of the Ways. She and Rand trailed behind the Forsaken, their movements shadowed by Moiraine and Lan, who followed closely behind.

The oppressive darkness of the Ways pressed in around them, the stone path beneath their feet stretching on into the abyss.

A shiver ran through Elyndria’s spine.

The last time she had been here, it had almost ended in disaster. Rand had accidentally channeled, drawing Machin Shin to them. Its poisonous whispers had seeped into her mind, filling it with horrific images and fears she hadn't even realized she held.

The memory made her tense, her fingers curling involuntarily. She wouldn’t let her guard down this time.

Rand must have noticed her unease. Without a word, he reached for her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Elyndria turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. Concern lingered in his eyes, but he said nothing.

She squeezed his hand back briefly before letting go. She appreciated the silent reassurance, but trust didn’t come easily here. Not with Lanfear leading them. Not with the ever-present threat of the Black Wind lurking in the shadows.

She would stay alert.

She would channel if she had to. Even if it meant drawing Machin Shin to them again.

Lanfear’s voice cut through the silence.

“You are being very quiet back there. Should I worry?” Her tone was amused, but there was an edge beneath it.

Neither Rand nor Elyndria responded, and behind them, Moiraine and Lan remained just as silent.

Lanfear smirked but said no more.

They continued walking until they finally arrived before a massive stone slab. Another Waygate, looming tall and ancient in the suffocating darkness.

Moiraine stepped forward. “This is it? The Waygate to Falme?”

Lanfear nodded lazily, as if the question bored her.

“Open it,” Moiraine ordered.

Lanfear tilted her head, her expression shifting into something mocking. “Why don’t you?”

Moiraine’s face remained impassive. “Ishamael took my power from me.”

Lanfear let out a soft chuckle. “Ooh, you are so good at twisting your words in knots. I know you’ve got it back. I can see it in you.”

Elyndria felt a chill as Lanfear’s gaze slid toward her. For the first time, the Forsaken truly examined her, and it felt as though her very soul was being laid bare.

Elyndria forced herself to hold her ground, but the scrutiny made her skin crawl. Lanfear murmured something too quiet to hear at first, then spoke more clearly, though softly.

“How strange…” Elyndria’s brows furrowed. “You look so different,” Lanfear mused. “But your soul… your soul is exactly the same.”

Confusion twisted in Elyndria’s stomach.

What was she talking about?

The Forsaken were known for their unnatural gifts, their deep connection to the Dark One’s power.

What did Lanfear see when she looked at her?

Lanfear’s lips curved into a knowing smile, but she didn’t elaborate. Instead, she turned her attention back to Moiraine and Lan.

“The three of you are alive only because I allow it. Because you all have a role to play still.” Her tone was light, almost casual, but there was no mistaking the threat beneath her words. A reminder of her power. A reminder that, at any moment, she could decide their lives were no longer necessary.

With a flick of her wrist, she wove the One Power. The Waygate behind them groaned and rumbled before abruptly splitting open, revealing the path beyond.

Then, she turned back to Moiraine. “When the time comes, raise the banner.”

With a sudden, effortless motion, she blew a gust of power toward them. Elyndria barely had time to react before she felt herself hurled backward, the world spinning as she was flung through the opening.

The sensation of weightlessness lasted only a moment before she crashed down, water splashing around her as she landed in knee-deep surf.

She coughed, sputtering as she pushed herself up, soaking wet and disoriented. Lan and Moiraine had landed beside her, both just as drenched and struggling to gain their bearings. The Waygate stood behind them, closed.

Lan was already rising, scanning their surroundings. “Where are we?”

Elyndria barely heard him. A cold pit had formed in her stomach as she realized what had just happened. She turned sharply back to the Waygate, horror dawning in her chest. “Rand is still in there!”

She surged forward, intending to go back, but Moiraine’s grip caught her arm, holding her back with more strength than Elyndria expected.

“No,” Moiraine said firmly. “Lanfear will not kill Rand. Even if we open the Waygate, they will be gone. And the only thing that will greet us is Machin Shin.”

Elyndria’s breath hitched, her body still tensed with the instinct to act. But Moiraine was right. As much as she hated it, as much as her heart twisted in worry, Rand wouldn’t be there if they went back. He was with Lanfear now.

And there was nothing they could do about it. Her shoulders slumped in reluctant defeat.

Moiraine gave her arm a small, reassuring tug. “Come. We must find where we are. I do not doubt Lanfear has spat us out somewhere she wants us to be.”

Elyndria hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

She cast one last glance at the Waygate, silently willing Rand to stay safe, before turning away and following the others toward the distant shore. Wherever they were, whatever came next, she knew one thing with certainty.

They would find Rand again.

And when they did, she would be ready.

Chapter 20: Familiar faces

Moiraine, Elyndria, and Lan walked along the shoreline, the salt-scented wind whipping at their cloaks. The sky was a deep, endless gray, the distant sound of waves crashing against unseen rocks filling the air with a restless energy.

Lan finally broke the silence. “The bond—are we going to talk about it?”

Moiraine's steps slowed just slightly before she responded, her voice quiet yet steady. “Do you really want it back? After everything I’ve done to you?”

Elyndria quickened her pace, putting some distance between herself and the conversation.

This was between an Aes Sedai and her Warder; something private, something she had no business being part of. Besides, the weight in Moiraine’s voice told her this was a wound far deeper than anything she could mend.

As she walked ahead, her thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Rand.

She hoped he was okay. The image of the Waygate shutting behind them was burned into her mind, the last glimpse of him standing there with Lanfear still lingering like a ghost in her vision. He was strong—stronger than he even realized—but still, she couldn’t shake the unease settling in her chest.

Lanfear was dangerous.

Elyndria clenched her fists. If she had to, she would fight to get back to him.

She had already made that choice in the quiet moments she had with Rand over the past months as they connected with eachother. No Forsaken, no Waygate, nothing was going to stop her.

A gust of wind sent the cold spray of seawater over her boots, jolting her from her thoughts. Elyndria let out a slow breath, turning her gaze forward as she tried to look ahead and see if there were any building or signs of civilisation.

There was nothing but sand and water.

Elyndria froze mid-step, a ripple of energy skimming across her senses like the tide pulling back before a wave crashes forward. The air shifted, tingling against her skin, and she knew—felt—what it was before she even turned.

The One Power.

Slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned around, drawn by the pull of something both familiar and deeply foreign.

What she saw made her breath catch.

Moiraine and Lan stood close, so close that their foreheads nearly touched. There was no hesitation in the way they faced each other, only quiet understanding, a thread of something unspoken tying them together more securely than words ever could. The weaves of the One Power pulsed around them, golden and silver threads twining through the air like living light.

They wrapped around Moiraine first, fluid and controlled, before reaching outward, tendrils stretching and sinking into Lan’s chest. Elyndria watched, mesmerized, as the weaves passed through him, binding him to Moiraine in a way that went beyond the physical. She could feel the significance of it, even from a distance. A bond unlike any other.

The realization struck her like a blow. She was witnessing a Warder’s bond being reforged.

Her breath shuddered in her chest, her stomach twisting in a way she hadn’t expected. She knew she should look away, that this moment wasn’t meant for her eyes, but she couldn’t move.

This wasn’t just an oath, not just a promise. This was a connection. Unbreakable, absolute. A tether between two souls that nothing—time, war, even death—could sever completely.

And it made her feel so achingly alone.

The weight of it settled deep in her bones, pressing down on her like the suffocating silence of the Ways.

She tore her gaze away, staring out at the endless horizon instead, but the image remained burned into her mind.

It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly.

She wasn’t envious of what Moiraine and Lan had, not in the way one might envy another’s strength or power. It was something deeper. A hollow space inside her, one she hadn’t even realized was there, was suddenly exposed.

She had spent so much of her life guarding herself, keeping people at arm’s length, wary of letting anyone too close. The idea of being tied to someone, of being known so completely, had always unsettled her.

Until Rand.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. Light, she wished he were here. She wished she could feel the warmth of his presence beside her, steady and grounding.

She wished she could turn and see that small, knowing smile of his, the one that always seemed to say I see you, Elyndria. You’re not alone.

For the first time, she let herself wonder if she would ever bond with him?

The thought should have terrified her.

A year ago, she would have recoiled from it, from the vulnerability it implied. But now… now there was no fear. If she ever reached out with the One Power, weaving a connection as Moiraine was now… would Rand reach back?

Would he want that?

Would she?

Her heart answered before her mind could catch up.

Yes. Without hesitation, without doubt. Yes.

A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed hard, shoving the thought away before it could consume her.

This wasn’t the time. Rand was still in the Ways, still with her.

She exhaled sharply, glancing back over her shoulder once more. The glow of the One Power was fading now, the bond sealed. Lan and Moiraine stood there for a moment longer, foreheads still touching, eyes closed.

Elyndria turned away again, giving them their moment. But the hollow ache in her chest remained.

---

Elyndria kept her gaze fixed on the horizon as she jogged beside Moiraine and Lan, the waves lapping at the shore in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. The silence between them stretched, only interrupted by the occasional call of a distant seabird or the crunch of their boots in the damp sand.

“You’re faster than you used to be,” Lan finally said, breaking the quiet. His voice was calm, but there was something contemplative beneath the words.

Moiraine gave a soft huff, a hint of amusement in her tone. “Feels like I’m running without buckets on my back.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it was weighted. Elyndria could see the tension in the set of Lan’s shoulders, the way his brow furrowed slightly as he walked.

He was thinking. Moiraine noticed, too.

“You’re thinking about Lanfear,” she stated.

Lan didn’t deny it. “I still don’t understand why he only woke her.”

Moiraine’s expression darkened, thoughtful.

“They’re too dangerous, I think—the others. The Forsaken fought among themselves as much as they fought the Dragon. But everything that I could find out said that Lanfear, Lews Therin, and Ishamael were inseparable before the War of Power.” Her voice lowered, almost reverent, as if speaking of something long buried. “They were best friends.”

Lan let out a breath, “Just like these kids.”

The distant outline of a city broke through the mist of the morning, its tall stone tower jutting into the sky like a sentinel watching over the coastline. The sight of it made Moiraine slow her steps.

“I think I know where we are,” she murmured.

Elyndria glanced at her, then back at the towering structure. There was something ominous about it.

“Lanfear planned this,” Moiraine continued, her voice grim. “There have been many prophecies about the Dragon Reborn. Some of them mention Falme.” Lan’s expression darkened. Moiraine’s voice grew quieter, as if speaking the words aloud gave them power. “Above the Watchers shall the Dragon be proclaimed, bannered 'cross the sky in fire,” she quoted.

Elyndria’s breath caught. It made sense now. The Forsaken had brought them here for a reason.

“That’s why we’re here,” she said slowly, the realization settling over her like a weight. “So people can see him.” She turned to Moiraine. “But why? Why would the Forsaken want people to know the Dragon has been reborn?”

The thought of them simply allowing Rand to exist, letting him grow stronger, made her stomach twist in confusion. It didn’t make sense. They should have killed him the moment they had him. The thought made something hot and sharp rise in her chest.

Light, she hated thinking about that.

About the Forsaken ending him. She clenched her fists, pushing the feeling away.

Lan’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

“Unrest,” he said simply. Elyndria frowned at him. “There are too many different opinions on the Dragon Reborn,” Lan explained. “Some worship him. Some fear him. Some want to use him. But making him known, proclaiming him, will create chaos. Social, political. War.”

Elyndria opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly, the world tilted beneath her feet. She stumbled, her vision momentarily blurring, and a rush of power—familiar power—washed over her.

Her breath hitched. She knew this feeling.

It was him.

She turned sharply toward the city, her heart pounding. The sensation was unmistakable. The One Power surged through the air, thick and pulsing like the very beat of her own heart.

Rand.

Her eyes snapped to the tower in the distance, and without thinking, she raised a hand and pointed.

“There,” she breathed, then louder, “There!” She turned to Moiraine, her pulse racing. “I can feel him. He’s using his power.”

Moiraine’s gaze flickered to the tower, then back at Elyndria. For a brief moment, understanding passed between them.

Moiraine’s nod was sharp. “I can feel it too.” They didn’t need to say anything more. “Come,” Moiraine urged, already moving forward. “We must hurry.”

Elyndria didn’t need to be told twice.

They broke into a run, the sound of their footsteps lost to the crash of the waves, as they raced toward the city and the battle that awaited them.

As they were running towards the city she could see something moving along the waves of the beach cause her slow down as she looked towards the sea, what she saw made her breath catch in her throat as she stared at the fleet of ships, their dark sails cutting through the churning waves like knives.

The sigils on the banners sent ice through her veins. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and her whole body felt coiled, like a bowstring drawn too tight. Seanchan. The stories she had heard about them, whispers in shadowed halls of the White Tower, were worse than nightmares. People who saw channelers as abominations; weapons to be controlled, chained, collared.

The mere thought of them strapping a leash around her neck, binding her so she could never touch the Source unless they commanded it, made bile rise in her throat.

And Rand—Light, Rand—

A burst of weaves flared from one of the ships, streaking toward the distant tower like threads of silver and blue. The Shield wove itself, growing thicker, heavier. She knew without needing to be told.

“Moiraine,” Elyndria said sharply, her voice tight.

Moiraine turned at once, her sharp eyes locking onto the weaves.

Lan, ever watchful, tensed beside them. “Keep moving. There are soldiers on the cliffs…..What is it?”

Moiraine’s expression was unreadable, but there was something like steel beneath her calm as she looked up at the tower. “Shielding.”

Lan’s stance shifted. “Are there weaves?”

Moiraine’s jaw tightened. “I think it’s Rand they’re shielding.”

Elyndria’s breath came faster. No. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. She could almost feel Rand’s presence; faint but undeniable, a familiar hum beneath her skin. He was there. And the Seanchan were trying to silence him.

“They’re Seanchan,” she spat. “We have to stop them.”

Lan hesitated. “Why? What if Lanfear put us here for you to do this? What if those ships are full of innocent people? What if it’s not Rand?”

Moiraine turned to him, her face unreadable, her voice like ice.

“I will let a thousand innocent people die if there’s even a chance that he will live.” She held Lan’s gaze, and the weight of her words pressed into the space between them. “That is what it means to support him. You do understand that?”

Lan hesitated, then gave a single nod.

Elyndria didn’t wait.

The distant shouts of Seanchan soldiers sent a jolt through her, but she barely registered them. She reached for the Source, letting it fill her. The One Power surged through her veins like a storm, cold fire and burning ice.

It wrapped around her, lifted her, expanded her until she was something more, something vast and powerful. The world sharpened. The weaves came to her in instinct—Air, Fire, Spirit—threads intertwining, snapping together with razor-edged precision.

Her heart pounded in rhythm with the storm of power thrumming in her blood. She shaped the weave, her hands moving with the grace of something that felt almost primal.

And then she struck.

The weaves lashed out, ribbons of raw destruction slicing through the air like living serpents, twisting and snapping toward the Seanchan ship. Elyndria barely breathed, the pulse of the One Power surging through her veins, guiding her hands as she wove with deadly precision.

The threads of Fire and Air struck the hull with a force that shattered the silence. The ship groaned, a terrible, splintering howl as the wood buckled and cracked beneath the onslaught.

In the blink of an eye, the entire structure seemed to buckle inward, breaking apart like fragile glass.

The impact sent a thunderous crack rolling across the water, the shockwave vibrating through the sand beneath Elyndria’s feet.

A heartbeat later, flames erupted from the wreckage.

The fire caught on the splintered beams, devouring them greedily, orange and gold tongues licking at the night air. Elyndria watched, transfixed, as the inferno reflected off the waves, a shimmering mirage of chaos and ruin.

And then—

She felt it.

The Shield unraveled.

It didn’t merely fade; it shattered—the weaves snapping apart, disintegrating like threads burned to ash. Spirit, Air, Water; each element of the Shield dissolved, vanishing into nothingness as the prison around Rand collapsed.

A tremor ran through her. Rand was free.

For a moment, Elyndria stood frozen, her pulse hammering. Relief surged through her, tangled with something sharper—something close to fear.

What state would he be in?

What had they done to him in that tower?

Movement at her side yanked her back to the present. Lan was a blur of motion, a shifting shadow against the sand, his sword gleaming under the dim light. He moved like a storm given form; fluid, relentless, every strike perfectly calculated. His blade caught the glow of the burning wreckage as he danced between the Seanchan soldiers along the beach, steel flashing with each deadly arc.

One fell. Then another. And another.

The bodies collapsed onto the sand, lifeless.

And then—

Silence.

The only sounds left were the distant crackle of burning wood and the gentle, rhythmic crash of waves against the shore.

Elyndria’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. The One Power still burned in her, hot and intoxicating, flooding her senses. It was always like this after wielding so much at once. The ache of power, the lingering hum beneath her skin, as if she were still standing in the heart of a storm.

She barely noticed when Lan stepped back to Moiraine’s side.

His voice was calm, but something hard edged it, something unreadable. “They’re retreating.”

Elyndria barely heard him.

The world felt distant, muffled. Like she was underwater. Her hands trembled at her sides, though whether from exertion or the lingering rush of power, she didn’t know.

But Moiraine—

Moiraine was not finished.

The older woman lifted her hands, her expression unreadable, her posture poised with quiet, unshakable authority. There was no hesitation in her movements, no question.

Elyndria felt it before she saw it. The shift in the air, the ripple in the unseen world of the Power. A weave unlike any other took shape before her eyes.

Fire.

Threads of pure flame curled and twisted together, layering upon themselves in a careful, intricate design. At first, it was shapeless, a storm of molten light and heat but then, slowly, deliberately, it began to take form.

A massive serpent.

No….a dragon.

The flames solidified into something alive, something that breathed and burned with a will of its own.

Elyndria could see the individual scales, each one glowing like molten gold, rippling as the creature wound its way through the night. Its eyes were twin burning orbs, deep and ancient and all-seeing. It coiled around the tower, its form stretching across the sky, its presence impossible to ignore. The fire pulsed, casting flickering shadows over the walls, illuminating the city with an eerie, golden light.

Then—

It roared.

The sound was not physical, yet Elyndria felt it in the depths of her bones, a vibration of something older than time itself. It was a warning. A declaration.

The world would know.

The Dragon had been proclaimed.

---

 

The streets of Falme were drenched in chaos.

Elyndria, Moiraine, and Lan moved quickly, stepping over broken crates and abandoned carts, weaving through narrow alleys that stank of smoke and blood.

The air was thick with the remnants of battle; scorch marks blackened the walls of stone buildings, flames still flickering in the remains of a collapsed roof nearby. And the bodies. Seanchan soldiers lay where they had fallen, their strange helmets—designed to make them look like monstrous insects—lying cracked beside them.

Some were twisted in unnatural angles, burned beyond recognition, the smell of charred flesh choking the night air. Others bore the brutal precision of sword wounds, blood soaking into the dirt.

Elyndria's stomach clenched at the carnage, but she forced herself to breathe. This was war.

But it wasn’t just the Seanchan.

Here and there, among the armored invaders, she caught glimpses of fallen townspeople; Falme’s defenders, or perhaps rebels emboldened by the night’s events.

She didn’t know, and the uncertainty only unsettled her further.

The destruction hadn’t been contained to the battle on the beach. It had spilled into the city like a storm breaking its banks.

Above the distant hum of the sea, voices filled the streets. People had begun creeping out of their homes, their faces pale in the dim light of overturned lanterns and smoldering torches. Their fear was almost palpable, wrapping around Elyndria like a vice.

"The Dragon Reborn," someone whispered.

"I saw him. Wreathed in fire. The world will break."

"The prophecies... they are real."

"We’re doomed."

Some voices were filled with reverence, hushed tones clinging to hope. Others dripped with panic, the very idea of the Dragon enough to unravel their world.

The weight of it pressed down on Elyndria’s chest, a suffocating awareness settling into her bones.

So, this is what Lan meant.

The world would not remain the same after tonight. Rand’s reveal had set something unstoppable in motion. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. She hated not knowing where he was. Hated the uncertainty clawing at her insides.

Where are you, Rand?

They turned a corner, the looming shadow of the Tower coming into view.

Then—

Lan stopped abruptly, raising a hand in silent command.

Elyndria stilled, following his gaze. A patrol of soldiers passed by, their voices loud and unguarded. She held her breath, listening intently.

"The Tower’s been emptied," one of them muttered. "Not a soul left inside."

"Not even the damane?" another asked.

"Gone. All of them. Either fled or dead."

"And the one they called the Dragon?"

"Vanished."

Elyndria’s breath hitched.

Gone?

She turned to Moiraine and Lan, her voice barely above a whisper. “The Tower is empty?” Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Then where is Rand?”

Lan’s expression darkened, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings, as if searching for unseen dangers. “If he escaped, he would be hiding.”

“He wouldn’t stay near the Tower,” Moiraine agreed. “Not after what happened. He’d put distance between himself and the place where he was revealed.”

Elyndria swallowed hard, nodding. “Then we need to move. We—”

A voice, smooth and unhurried, interrupted her.

“Perhaps we can help each other.”

Elyndria jumped, her instincts screaming danger as she whirled around, already reaching for the One Power before she forced herself to still.

Three women stood before them. They had appeared as silently as ghosts. Tall. Fierce. Their red hair gleamed under the flickering torchlight, braided away from their sharp-featured faces. Their skin was tanned from a life under the sun, their white armour simple but practical. Elyndria could feel the warrior’s presence radiating from them, a quiet lethality that set her on edge.

Not soldiers.

Something more.

Moiraine’s lips parted slightly, the first flicker of surprise breaking through her otherwise unreadable expression. She breathed a single word, barely louder than a whisper.

“Aiel.”

Lan’s posture was rigid, his stance unyielding as his fingers hovered near the hilt of his sword. His sharp blue eyes flickered between the Aiel women, assessing, calculating. His voice, when he spoke, was flat and edged with suspicion.

“And how exactly can the Maidens of the Spear help us?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “We do not need help with anything that concerns you. Our business is our own.”

Elyndria felt the weight behind his words, the unspoken stay out of our way wrapped within them.

The Aiel woman at the front let out a slow, measured breath through her nose. She looked almost bored by Lan’s hostility, though there was something sharp behind her eyes.

Elyndria thought she might roll them, but she held back, instead offering only a slight tilt of her head as she studied them.

“You are looking for the red-haired man who stood at the top of the tower,” The Aiel said simply. Elyndria’s heart pounded. Her breath caught for a fraction of a second, but she forced herself to remain still, her face unreadable. Behind her, Moiraine and Lan said nothing. The silence was thick and heavy. The Aiel showed no discomfort, waiting as if she already knew she was right. “My name is Aviendha,” she continued. “We are also looking for Rand al’Thor.”

Elyndria’s muscles tensed. Her mind raced, suspicion curling like a tight fist in her stomach.

“How do you know his full name?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. She hadn’t meant to let her unease slip through, but it was too late now.

They had spoken carefully since arriving in the city. No one outside their small circle should have known exactly who Rand was, not unless they had been watching him long before he was revealed atop that tower.

Aviendha didn’t flinch at the question. Instead, she took a slow, deliberate step forward. Lan moved in a blur. His sword was half-drawn before Elyndria could blink, steel glinting in the dim light.

The two Aiel women behind Aviendha reacted just as swiftly, their hands flying to their spears. Their movements were so fluid, so instinctual, that Elyndria barely had time to process it before weapons were halfway unsheathed.

Her breath stilled. For a moment, time hung like a taut string, stretched so thin that it felt like the slightest pressure might snap it. A fight was a heartbeat away.

Aviendha raised a hand.

She spoke sharply in a language Elyndria didn’t recognize, her voice firm with command. The other Aiel hesitated, glancing at each other before reluctantly sliding their spears back into their sheaths. Their wary eyes, however, remained locked onto Lan, watching him like desert hawks waiting for the right moment to strike.

Aviendha turned her gaze back to Lan, her expression unreadable.

“I will not hurt her,” she said evenly, her voice free of deception. Her eyes flicked to Elyndria. “I know the name Rand al’Thor because it was his friend, Perrin Aybara, who freed me from imprisonment. Bain, Chiad and I owe him a debt.” Elyndria’s heart lurched. Perrin. She hadn’t heard his name in so long. “We were captured,” Aviendha continued. “Perrin freed us. He went to the tower during the battle, and now we are looking for him.”

Elyndria barely heard the last part. Her mind was still racing. Perrin—if he had been in the tower, and if the tower was now deserted…Her stomach twisted.

Where was he?

Where was Rand?

She turned to Moiraine and Lan, searching for answers in their expressions. Lan’s jaw was tight, his gaze distant, likely working through the same possibilities she was. Moiraine’s face was unreadable, but her eyes were calculating, shifting through a thousand thoughts at once.

Elyndria tried to steady herself.

The weight of everything pressed against her like a vice. Rand had been revealed. The world had seen him. And now he had vanished.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe. She had spent so much time worrying for him, and now the fear had solidified into something tangible. It clenched around her ribs, a vice of worry and dread. Rand was out there. And the city was teetering on the edge of chaos.

The Wheel had brought them together once before. It would do so again.

Wouldn’t it?

She exhaled slowly. “We need to find them,” she murmured.

Moiraine nodded once.

Aviendha, despite her initial wariness, seemed to approve of the response.

“Then let us waste no more time,” she said.

Elyndria straightened, pushing her worry down for now.

The search through Falme’s chaotic streets felt endless. Elyndria’s frustration grew with each passing moment, her boots kicking up dust and debris as they moved from one alley to another, scanning the faces of every person they passed.

She barely noticed the scorch marks on walls, the abandoned carts, the fallen bodies of Seanchan soldiers. Her mind was fixed on one thing.

Finding Rand.

The city was alive with whispers, murmurs of what had happened. She caught snippets of conversations as they weaved through the throngs of people.

“The Dragon… Did you see him? Proclaimed, right there on the Tower.”

“The Forsaken walk the earth again. Light help us all.”

“What happens now? What will the world do?”

Some voices were filled with awe, others with fear. Some spoke of revolution, others of terror. Elyndria clenched her fists, trying to push away the anxiety curling tight in her stomach. Rand had been revealed to the world, and now the world was reacting. Her thoughts spiraled as they continued their search, frustration turning into something deeper, something heavier.

How had everything changed so quickly?

Only days ago, she and Rand had been in Foregate, together, safe. There had been laughter, teasing words exchanged, the warmth of his hand brushing hers. Now, she was chasing shadows, heart pounding with fear for him.

She exhaled shakily.

The One Power thrummed beneath her skin, responding to her emotions, waiting for release. She shoved it down. She would not let it control her.

Minutes stretched into hours. The search felt endless, the city a maze. The streets were littered with the remnants of battle; fallen Seanchan, broken weapons, abandoned shields. Hope flickered in and out of her grasp, threatening to be snuffed out.

But she refused to give up. She couldn’t. Not until she saw him again. Not until she knew he was safe.

Elyndria trailed a little further from the group, scanning the streets desperately. She searched for the telltale flash of red hair, willing Rand to appear. But instead of spotting him, she felt a sharp tug on her arm—

Then she was yanked into an alleyway.

A hand covered her mouth before she could scream. Panic surged through her veins. She fought against the grip, back pressed against the rough brick wall. Her instincts roared, the One Power building, ready to be unleashed, to strike—

“Hey, hey! It’s me! It’s me!”

The voice was familiar, breathless but soothing. Her pulse pounded in her ears as her eyes focused, heart hammering against her ribs.

Rand.

His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, his breathing heavy. He looked exhausted, his skin pale beneath the grime. But it was him.

He was alive.

The tension drained from her body as relief crashed over her. Shoulders slumping, she reached out for him, fingers brushing against his sleeve, needing to feel that he was real. Before she could touch him, Rand was suddenly shoved away from her, the motion so swift she barely had time to register it.

The Aiel.

Aviendha and her sisters stood over him, spears leveled at his throat as he lay sprawled on the ground. Their expressions were unreadable, but their posture spoke volumes.

Elyndria’s heart lurched.

“Stop!” she said sharply, stepping forward. The warriors didn’t move, their eyes locked onto Rand as if weighing his worth. “It’s Rand,” she repeated, softer this time. He looked bewildered, his gaze flicking between her and the Aiel, breath still ragged from the struggle.

Elyndria’s heart pounded in her chest as she crouched beside Rand, her hand gripping his arm as if anchoring herself to reality. The Aiel warriors stood over him, their spears mere inches from his throat, their expressions unreadable but poised for action.

“Lower your weapons,” she commanded, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. “It’s him. It’s Rand.”

Aviendha studied Rand for a long, tense moment, her piercing gaze sweeping over his face, his tangled red hair, the dirt smeared across his skin.

The air was thick with uncertainty, heavy with the possibility of violence.

Elyndria could feel it thrumming in her bones, the moment stretched taut like a bowstring.

“This man,” Aviendha said at last, her voice slow and measured, “he is the one from the tower.”

“Yes,” Elyndria confirmed. “He’s the one we’ve been looking for.”

Aviendha’s expression flickered with something unreadable before she nodded once. With a sharp command in the Aiel tongue, the other two women stepped back, lifting their spears but not sheathing them.

A silent warning.

Moiraine and Lan came running down the alley not a second later, coming to a stop beside them as they saw Rand on the ground. Moiraine and Lan shared a look of relief.

Rand exhaled heavily, his hands bracing against the ground as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His eyes flicked from Aviendha to Elyndria, confusion and wariness dancing in their depths.

“Who are they?” he asked hoarsely.

“Aiel,” Elyndria answered softly. “They’ve been searching for you.”

Rand’s brows furrowed. “For me?”

“Yes,” Aviendha said, crouching down to meet his gaze. “Your friend, Perrin Aybara, freed us from captivity. We owe him a debt. He went to the tower, and now he is missing.”

Rand nodded, swallowing hard. "Perrin—I've been with him. He helped me fight. And not just him—Egwene, Nynaeve, Loial, Mat... even a girl named Elayne. We were all there. Together. Fighting Ishamael."

Moiraine stiffened at the name. Lan shifted beside her, his face unreadable. Elyndria barely registered their reactions; her mind reeled at Rand’s words.

"You fought Ishamael?" she whispered, hardly able to comprehend the weight of what he was saying. "You—"

Rand nodded, his expression grim. "I killed him, Elyndria. I watched him turn to dust. The others helped—But I was the one who struck the final blow."

Elyndria felt her breath catch. Ishamael; one of the strongest of the Forsaken was gone. She could scarcely believe it.

“Light," she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "It's really over?"

Rand exhaled sharply, his blue-gray eyes dark with something unreadable. "Not over. This was just the beginning. We barely made it out of there. The others left immediately after the battle, scattering to hide from any remaining soldiers or Darkfriends. They're keeping their heads down. Perrin and Loial went with them, but I... I had to come back for you. I couldn’t leave you."

Elyndria felt her heart lurch. He had come back for her. Through everything, through exhaustion, through danger, Rand had made the choice to return.

"Where are they now?" Moiraine asked, stepping closer, her sharp eyes scanning the streets as if expecting trouble to descend upon them at any moment.

"A cave along the beach," Rand said, dragging a weary hand down his face. "Not far from here. We thought it safest to stay hidden until we figured out our next move. But I couldn’t stay put—I had to make sure you, Lan, and Moiraine were all right. I had to find you."

Elyndria squeezed his hand tightly. "And now you have."

Rand let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief, but the moment was fleeting.

They weren’t safe yet. They needed to move.

Aviendha, who had remained silent throughout Rand’s explanation, finally spoke. "Then we should go. We cannot risk being caught in the streets."

Lan nodded in agreement. "She’s right. We need to get to the cave before we attract more attention."

Moiraine's gaze lingered on Rand for a long moment before she gave a small nod. "Lead the way."

Rand took Elyndria’s hand, and together, they slipped out of the alley, their companions close behind.

---

The wind carried the scent of salt and damp earth as they made their way along the beach, the distant roar of the waves a steady hum against the tension hanging between them. The sand was cool beneath their boots, the sky above darkening with the fading light. Every step they took brought them closer to the cave where the others—Perrin, Loial, Egwene, Nynaeve, Mat, and Elayne—were hiding.

Rand walked ahead, leading them with sure but weary steps, his presence both a comfort and a weight upon Elyndria’s chest.

He had come back for them, for her. And yet, as she watched him, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was carrying far too much. The burden of what he had done, of what he had become, weighed heavily on him, even if he wouldn’t say it aloud.

“They were all in Falme,” Rand began, his voice low as if afraid the wind might carry his words to the wrong ears. “The Forsaken and the Seanchan had been working together. Or, more accurately, the Forsaken were manipulating them, twisting them into doing their bidding without their knowing. Perrin, and Loial had been taken prisoner by Whitecloaks and the Seanchan. Nynaeve, Egwene, and Elayne were captured as well and meant to be trained as damane.”

Elyndria sucked in a sharp breath.

She had known the Seanchan’s cruelty, had seen it firsthand, but hearing it spoken so plainly, knowing what Rand’s friends had endured—it sent a chill through her veins.

She noticed when Ran had mentioned Nynaeve, Lan had stepped closer to them, his expression almost blank if it wasn’t for the darkening of his eyes. Elyndria remembered how protective he had been of her, the closeness between them undeniable even back in Fal Dara.

“They’re all okay now?” Lan asked, voice steady but edged with something Elyndria could not quite name.

Rand nodded, though the hesitation in his posture was clear.

“Physically, yes. But…” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I think we all carry scars from this battle. Unseen ones.”

“And Mat?” Lan questioned, his sharp gaze flicking toward Rand.

Rand’s jaw tightened, a shadow passing over his face. “Lanfear took him. That’s why he didn’t meet Elyndria and I in Foregate. He was kidnapped and brought here.”

Moiraine made a sound, almost too quiet to hear.

“Fate,” she murmured. “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.”

Elyndria had been listening intently, but something caught her eye. A dark stain near the bottom of Rand’s shirt. It was damp, the fabric clinging to his skin. Her heart clenched. Blood.

“Rand—” She reached for him, stopping him in his tracks. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling it toward her. The stain was large, far too large to be brushed off as nothing.

Rand stiffened slightly as she lifted his shirt, her breath catching when she saw the wound or rather, what was left of it. A thin red line stretched across his abdomen, barely more than a scar, yet the blood soaking his clothing told a different story.

“What happened?” she asked, voice sharp with concern.

Rand quickly caught her wrists, pulling his shirt back down. “I’m fine.”

“You were wounded.”

“Yes, but—”

“How?” Elyndria demanded. “You’ve barely told us what happened up on that tower.”

Rand sighed, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, he looked impossibly tired. “It was an accident. Mat thought he was throwing the blade at Ishamael, but it was just an illusion. It got me instead.”

Elyndria inhaled sharply, her grip tightening on his arm. “Mat—”

“It’s not his fault,” Rand said quickly, his voice firm. “Ishamael was twisting everything around us. Mat didn’t know.”

Elyndria swallowed, her chest tightening. She had spent so much time worrying, fearing for Rand, and now—now, after everything, he had been wounded and bleeding out while she hadn't even known.

“Your shirt is covered in blood,” she said, her voice softer now, laced with something almost fragile.

“I was bleeding out,” Rand admitted, then offered her a tired smile. “But Elayne healed me. She used the saidar.” Elyndria frowned. He was standing in front of her, whole, alive. But the thought of him lying there, bleeding, fading…she had almost lost him. Again. Rand reached up, cupping her face, his calloused thumb brushing against her cheek. “I’m okay,” he said, his voice warm, grounding. “There’s no reason to worry about it anymore.”

Elyndria closed her eyes for a brief moment, pressing her hand over his where it rested on her face.

“I will always worry about you, Rand,” she whispered.

He exhaled, resting his forehead against hers for just a moment before stepping back.

“Come on,” he said gently. “We’re almost there.”

And so, they pressed on, the cave waiting for them ahead, carrying with them the weight of what had been lost and what had yet to come. They pressed on, the wind growing stronger as they neared the rock formations Rand had spoken of. The cave was hidden in the darkness, its mouth a shadowy void against the jagged cliffs.

As they drew closer, Rand held up a hand, signaling them to stop.

“I’ll go first,” he said. “They’ll be on edge. I don’t want anyone mistaking us for Seanchan soldiers."

Rand stepped forward first, his hand still clasping Elyndria’s, his grip reassuring. As they entered the cave, the murmur of voices ceased, and a dozen eyes turned toward them.

"Rand!" Egwene was the first to move, crossing the space between them in quick strides before throwing her arms around him. Her relief was palpable, but Elyndria caught the tightness in her expression, the way her fingers dug into Rand’s back as though she feared he might vanish again.

Nynaeve stood a few feet behind, arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning Rand, Elyndria, and the others before finally settling on Lan. Something unspoken passed between them, and for a brief moment, the tension in her shoulders eased.

Perrin and Loial stood together near the back, their presence solid and grounding. Perrin gave Rand a nod, his golden eyes filled with quiet understanding. Loial, towering over the others, let out a relieved sigh.

"I knew you would return," the Ogier rumbled. "But I must say, you took longer than I expected."

Rand offered a tired smile before glancing toward Mat, who lounged against the cave wall with his usual air of nonchalance, though there was a shadow in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"You survived," Matt drawled. "Guess that means I owe you a drink."

Elyndria couldn’t help but smile faintly at the exchange, but her gaze flickered to the young woman standing beside Egwene. That must be Elayne, the one who healed Rand. Her golden-red hair framed a face both regal and kind, though exhaustion weighed heavy on her features. She met Elyndria’s gaze with quiet curiosity before shifting her eyes back to Rand.

Rand exhaled, glancing around at them all before finally speaking. "You’re all safe. That’s all that matters."

Nynaeve scoffed. "Safe? We’re hiding in a cave, half of us barely recovered from battle, and the Seanchan are still out there. This is hardly what I’d call safe."

"It’s better than the alternative," Perrin murmured, his voice edged with something rougher than before. Elyndria wondered just how much he had endured while imprisoned.

"We won," Rand said, his tone quieter but firm. "Ishamael is dead. The Seanchan lost their hold on the city. The Dragon has been revealed to the world."

A heavy silence followed. The weight of his words settled over them like a thick fog, their implications vast and terrifying.

Moiraine, who had remained at the edge of the gathering, finally spoke.

"The world will change now, in ways we cannot yet see. We must be ready." Elyndria felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Ready. As if they hadn’t already lost enough, fought enough. But there was no turning back now. Moiraine continued. "We rest tonight, but tomorrow we will be leaving. It’s not safe here, especially with the Forsaken knowing we are all in Falme. I will go to the docks and secure us a safe passage back to Tar Valon. It will take us a month to get back on a boat."

Elyndria spoke up. "A month?"

Moiraine shrugged.

“Enough time for our minds and bodies to heal before we must deal with the consequences of today." She looked at them all one last time before leaving swiftly. Lan followed after her, sending one last unreadable look to Nynaeve before disappearing into the night.

The cave remained silent for a moment until Loial broke the silence with his deep rumbling voice, “It is nice to see you well, Green Ajah, Rand told us that you have been with him while he was away from the group. He was very worried about finding you, Moiraine and Land after our fight with the forsaken.”

Egwene’s eyes widened as she looked at Elyndria, disbelief and something else—hurt, perhaps—flashing across her face. “You’ve been with Rand this whole time?”

Elyndria hesitated, shifting slightly where she stood. She had expected this reaction, though she wasn’t sure how to answer in a way that wouldn’t cause tension.

She knew of Egwene and Rand’s history. The childhood affection, the promises made in their village before life had pulled them apart. They had once been everything to each other. First crush, first kiss, first love. Rand had explained his relationship with Egwene when they had become closer intimately. She knew that their relationship had fallen apart during their journey when they had left their village.

“I chose to stay with him,” Elyndria finally said, her voice even, though she couldn’t shake the feeling of walking on uncertain ground. “After we went to the Eye of the World.”

Nynaeve scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, her expression sharp. “The White Tower certainly won’t be happy to hear about that.”

Elyndria met her gaze, confused. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been novices at the Tower,” Nynaeve explained, her voice edged with irritation, though not necessarily at Elyndria. “We know how tightly they hold onto their Aes Sedai, especially ones as strong as you. They don’t just let someone disappear, not without consequences.”

Egwene nodded, her expression darkening. “Liandrin spoke of you before she gave us up to the Seanchan. She said it was a shame you’d been sent away on some long mission.”

Elyndria froze. The words barely registered before her mind began racing. Horror twisted in her stomach as the realization hit.

“Liandrin… gave you up?” Her voice came out breathless, the weight of the revelation pressing heavily upon her.

“We’re not lying,” Nynaeve snapped, misinterpreting her reaction.

“Of course not,” Elyndria said quickly, shaking her head. “But to hear that she did this… The Tower has always been filled with political maneuvering, with sisters scheming for influence or to remove Siuan from power. But handing you over to the Seanchan, especially now that we know the Forsaken were manipulating them—” Elyndria swallowed hard. “That would make her…..Black Ajah.”

A stunned silence filled the cave.

Elayne, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. “What is that?”

Elyndria clenched her hands at her sides, licking her lips as she tried to push back the wave of disgust rising within her. “There have always been whispers,” she said, her voice quieter now, “but no solid proof. The Black Ajah are Aes Sedai who serve the Dark One in secret.” Her eyes flicked to Egwene and Nynaeve. “If Liandrin is one… that means there are more.”

A shiver passed through the group at the implications of her words.

Perrin let out a slow breath, his golden eyes reflecting unease. “Then we’re not just dealing with Forsaken or Seanchan. We have enemies hidden in the White Tower itself.”

Elyndria’s frowned deepened.

She knew that there would be more Black Ajah if Liandrin was a part of it; she held loyalties from different Aes Sedai within the White Tower. And not just in the Red Ajah, Liandrin’s influence spread through all the different fractions. Even as much as it disgusted her at the idea she knew that even some of the Green Ajah were not above Liandrin’s influence.

To know that the White Tower had fallen into deeper disarray while she was gone made her dread stepping back into it’s halls.

The sound of movement by the mouth of the cave made her turn and Elyndria blinked in surprise as she saw the Aiel warriors. Elyndria had almost forgotten about the Aiel, too caught up in her thoughts about the White Tower.

Mat noticed them next. He had been lounging near the cave wall, he squinted at the tall, red-haired warriors, their cadin’sor blending into the shadows of the cave, then jerked a thumb in their direction.

“All right, someone explain why we’ve got a pack of Aiel standing around looking like they’re deciding whether to stab us or not.”

Elyndria saw Aviendha’s mouth twitch as though she were suppressing amusement. The other two Aiel remained expressionless, but their gazes sharpened on Mat as though measuring him.

“They are not here to stab anyone, Mat,” Elyndria said, rubbing at her temple. She was too tired for whatever nonsense Mat was about to start. “They are here for Perrin.”

Aviendha stepped forward, her presence commanding despite the simplicity of her movement. “I am Aviendha," she said, her voice steady, "and these are Bain and Chiad. We are of the Maidens of the Spear."

Mat raised an eyebrow. "Right. And what, exactly, are Maidens of the Spear?"

"Warriors," Aviendha replied simply, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We came to Falme to repay a debt to Perrin Aybara. He freed us from imprisonment."

Perrin, who had been quiet up until now, looked up in surprise. "You traveled all this way because of that?"

"A debt is a debt," Bain said, her voice as calm and measured as Aviendha’s was sharp. "To not repay what is owed would shame us."

"And we had another purpose," Aviendha added, turning her gaze to Rand. "We left the Three-Fold Land and crossed the Spine of the World because the Wise One’s had heard whispers of the Car'a'carn."

Mat’s brows shot up. "Right. That clears everything up."

Rand, who had been listening quietly, straightened slightly. "Car’a’carn?"

Aviendha nodded. "It means Chief of Chiefs, the one who will unite the clans. It is said there will be great signs and portents of his coming. He will come from the west, beyond the Spine of the World, but be of our blood. He will go to Rhuidean, and lead us out of the Three-Fold Land. Under this sign, he will conquer." Her piercing gaze met Rand’s, measuring him, weighing him. "What we have seen today makes us believe it is you."

Silence fell over the cave, the weight of her words pressing down on all of them. Elyndria could feel the tension in Rand’s posture, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to deny it outright.

"I think you’ve got the wrong man," Rand said at last, his voice quiet but firm. "I’m no Aiel."

Aviendha studied him for a long moment before glancing toward Bain and Chiad. "That remains to be seen."

Mat let out a short laugh.

“Bloody ashes. First, Rand’s the Dragon Reborn, now maybe he’s also your Chief of Chiefs? What’s next? He turns out to be a lost king or something?" He shook his head. "I think we all need some sleep before we start making any more grand prophecies."

Elyndria glanced at Rand.

His jaw was set, his eyes unreadable, but she could see the turmoil swirling beneath his calm exterior. He had barely accepted one destiny. Now, another one loomed before him.

Moiraine’s words echoed in her mind. The world will change now, in ways we cannot yet see.

And Elyndria had the sinking feeling that they had only just begun to uncover the depths of Rand’s fate.

---

Elyndria sat near Rand, close enough that their shoulders brushed, grounding her. He had been quiet since Aiel had introduced themselves, his gaze distant, lost in thought.

She wanted to say something, anything, but what could she say?

What words could make any of this easier?

The Aiel stood apart from the rest, silent sentinels in the dim light. Aviendha leaned against the stone wall, her arms crossed, watching the group with keen, unreadable eyes. The other two warriors remained near the entrance, as if ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger.

Perrin was the first to break the silence. "I still can’t believe it’s over. Ishamael is dead. The Seanchan forced back. After everything... it almost doesn’t feel real."

"It isn’t over," Nynaeve muttered, her arms still crossed. "You heard Moiraine. The Forsaken won’t sit idle. The whole world knows about Rand now. Things are only going to get worse."

Rand exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I know." His voice was quiet, tired. "But for now, at least, we breathe. We rest. We need that much."

Mat snorted, leaning back against the rock wall. "Rest? With Moiraine dragging us off to Tal Valor? I swear, I should have stayed in that room I was locked in."

"And yet you didn’t," Egwene pointed out, her sharp eyes flicking toward him. "You came, Mat. You fought with us. Whatever happened with Lanfear—" she hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing, "—you still came back."

Mat’s usual smirk faltered for just a moment, something dark flashing in his eyes before he shrugged. "Yeah, well. Not like I had much of a choice. Fate and all that, right? The bloody Wheel keeps turning."

Elayne, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. "The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. And the Pattern brought us all here for a reason. Whether we like it or not."

"A comforting thought," Perrin said dryly, but there was no real bite to his words.

Elyndria glanced at Rand again, noticing the way his fingers absently brushed over his abdomen where the wound had been. The dried blood on his shirt was a stark reminder of how close he had come to not being here at all.

She reached out, placing a hand over his. "We need to find a different shirt for you to change into. It’s a wonder you’re not feeling worse."

Rand gave her a tired but reassuring smile. "I told you, I’m fine. Elayne’s healing worked."

"I know, but—" Elyndria hesitated, then shook her head. "Never mind. Just… don’t scare me like that again."

His smile softened. "I’ll try."

Across the cave, Loial cleared his throat, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. "If nothing else, this will be a story worth telling. A battle of legends, the fall of Ishamael. The world will never be the same."

Egwene exhaled sharply. "No, it won’t. We’ve changed, too."

A silence settled over them at that, each of them lost in their own thoughts. The night stretched on, the fire burning low as exhaustion began to take hold.

One by one, the others drifted into sleep leaving only Aiel, Rand and Elyndria awake. Elyndria’s mind, though exhausted, refused to settle.

There was something about the prophecy they had recited earlier, something that lingered in the air between her and Rand.

"Do you think it could be true?" Elyndria asked softly, breaking the silence.

Rand snorted lightly, though there was no humor in it. "What, me? The Car’a’carn?" His tone was dry, a faint edge of disbelief lingering in his voice. "That’s a lot of weight to put on someone. I’m already the bloody Dragon Reborn."

Elyndria frowned, her gaze softening as she studied his features. "It wouldn’t be too far-fetched though. Your features match those of the Aiel. And your father was a soldier—he could have found a way to cross paths with them."

Rand’s eyes flickered, his jaw tightening. He shook his head, a tiredness settling on his shoulders.

"Isn’t it enough that I’m the Dragon Reborn?" He cut in sharply, his frustration barely contained. "Now I have these Maidens of the Spear proclaiming I could be the Car’a’carn too? All they have is words. A prophecy we’ve never even heard about until today."

Elyndria’s brow furrowed as she looked at him, the vulnerability beneath his exasperation clear, even if he tried to hide it.

"You can’t deny there’s a lot of strange coincidences," she said gently. "The prophecy itself—it’s not something to be brushed aside. It’s always been there, waiting, and now it’s found its way to you."

He let out a heavy sigh, his gaze distant.

"Coincidences? That’s what this is to you?" Rand’s voice dropped to a murmur, like he was talking more to himself than to her. "It feels like the world is throwing these impossible things at me, one after the other, and I can’t make sense of any of it."

Elyndria felt a pang in her chest, the weight of his words settling into her heart. She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against his. "I don’t think it’s coincidence, Rand. The Pattern is weaving, and we’re all caught up in it. Whether you want it or not, you are part of this. Part of everything that’s happening."

Rand turned his hand over, catching hers and squeezing it gently. He didn’t look at her—his eyes were still focused on the far-off shadows, but she could feel the tension in his grip.

"I didn’t ask for this," he murmured, his voice raw with frustration. "I didn’t choose to be the Dragon Reborn. I didn’t choose any of this. And now these Aiel—" His words trailed off, and his frustration only deepened, like he couldn’t find the words to express everything weighing on him.

Elyndria's voice was soft, but firm. "But you are the Dragon Reborn. And maybe, just maybe, you’re also the Car’a’carn. It’s not about choosing it, Rand. It’s about accepting it. The world is asking you to lead, whether you’re ready or not. Whether you like it or not."

He turned his head then, his eyes locking onto hers, and for a moment, the anger and frustration faded into something else; a tired, quiet resignation. "I’m not a leader, Elyndria. Not the way they want me to be. Not the way they need me to be."

Elyndria gently tugged at his hand, coaxing him to focus on her. "Maybe you don’t have to be. Maybe it’s not about being the kind of leader they expect you to be. Maybe it’s about finding your own way to lead. The world needs someone who will lead with compassion, not just strength. And you... you have that."

Rand shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips despite his exhaustion.

"You make it sound so simple," he murmured. "But I don’t know how to do that. How do I lead when I’m not even sure where I’m supposed to be going?"

Elyndria’s voice softened, becoming almost a whisper. "One step at a time. You don’t have to have it all figured out, Rand. No one does. You just have to keep moving forward. And you’re not alone. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself. Not anymore."

Rand’s gaze softened, and the walls he’d built around himself, just a little at a time, seemed to crack. He exhaled deeply, letting the tension in his body ease for just a moment.

“I know," he said quietly. "But it feels like I’ve been running so long…hiding away in Foregate with you. I don’t know how to stop."

Elyndria reached out, touching his cheek with a tenderness that surprised even her. "You don’t have to stop running, Rand. You just have to run with the right people beside you."

He looked at her then, his expression unreadable for a long moment, before he finally nodded slowly. "Maybe you’re right."

For a while, they sat in silence, the crackle of the fire filling the void between their words.

Rand leaned his head back against the stone wall, his eyes closing as if savoring the brief respite from the storm raging inside him. Elyndria remained by his side, offering him the quiet strength of her presence.

Finally, Rand spoke again, his voice low, but steady. "I don’t know what’s coming. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly accept all of this. But... I’ll try. For all of us."

They rest quietly for another hour or so before they heard footsteps approach the cave. The Aiel warriors shifted on their feet but made no other movement as Moiraine and Lan entered the cave, their quiet presence like a shift in the air, an unsettling calm before the storm. Moiraine’s sharp eyes immediately sought Rand, and Elyndria could feel the weight of that gaze even though she was standing beside him.

Her own eyes flickered briefly to Lan, who stood like a silent sentinel, his expression unreadable but his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as if it were the only thing anchoring him to this world.

"Rand," Moiraine greeted, her voice laced with a measure of wariness as though she already knew something had changed.

Rand, ever the one to wear his emotions close to his chest, tried to muster a calmness Elyndria knew wasn’t there. "We’ve been talking. The Aiel... they say I could be the Car’a’carn."

Moiraine’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Car’a’carn?" she echoed, her voice still soft but sharper now. "I’m unfamiliar with that term."

Elyndria glanced at Rand, then stepped forward to explain. "The Aiel have a prophecy. They believe that a man will come from beyond the Spine of the World—one who will unite the clans. They call him the Car’a’carn, the Chief of Chiefs. And… they think it could be Rand."

Moiraine’s eyes widened, though she quickly masked her surprise.

"The Car’a’carn?" Her voice was almost a whisper now, disbelief creeping in. "But how could that be? The Aiel are a warrior people, isolated for so long. Why would they believe the Dragon Reborn—" She stopped herself, then took a deep breath. "This is… unexpected."

Elyndria nodded slowly. "It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? Rand’s features match those of the Aiel. His father was a soldier, he could have found Rand while he was traveling or even near a battle. There are so many unknowns about his parentage. Perhaps that’s what this prophecy speaks of."

Moiraine was silent for a long moment, her eyes searching Rand’s face as if trying to gauge the truth of what they’d said.

Finally, she murmured, "If this is true..." Her voice softened, as if the magnitude of the thought was sinking in. "It would mean we would have more allies beside us. The Aiel—if they truly follow this prophecy—could become invaluable to us."

Lan gave a grunt in agreement, his voice low and filled with a quiet edge. "And more enemies," he added in a low, gravelly tone. "The Aiel are fierce, but they are not without their own politics and allegiances. We do not know them. We do not know who can be trusted."

Elyndria bit her lip, resisting the urge to argue. Lan was right in some ways. She knew nothing of the Aiel aside from what the others had said, but the possibilities—both the good and the bad—seemed endless.

Moiraine’s sigh cut through her thoughts, and she rubbed her temples, a weariness in her movements that Elyndria had rarely seen.

"A discussion for another day," Moiraine muttered, as though she had already reached the same conclusion. She straightened, her sharp gaze returning to Rand. "I’ve secured us boarding on a ship sailing at dawn tomorrow. A merchant ship. It’s not much, but it’s enough to get us out of here."

Elyndria’s stomach twisted at the thought. A merchant ship meant they had to keep a low profile, stay out of sight as much as possible.

"We’ll have to keep a low profile," Moiraine continued, her voice firm now, commanding. "That means no use of the One Power in places where it can be revealed. It will be difficult, but it’s necessary."

Elyndria felt a pang in her chest at the words.

The One Power. It was as much a part of her as breathing, something she used without even thinking. The thought of restraining herself, of pretending it didn’t exist, felt like a slow suffocation. But she nodded anyway. She knew the importance of Moiraine’s warning.

"I know," Elyndria said quietly. "It will be like losing a limb not to use it, but… I’ll do it. We have no choice."

Rand’s eyes flickered to her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he nodded. "We’ll make it work. One step at a time."

Moiraine’s gaze softened slightly as she looked between them all. "Rest while you can. Tomorrow we leave at dawn. And we need to be prepared for whatever comes next."

Elyndria lingered on that thought.

There was so much uncertainty ahead; prophecies, new allies, enemies they couldn’t yet comprehend. The road ahead was treacherous, and yet, for all the fear and doubt that gnawed at her, she knew she wouldn’t be walking it alone.

Chapter 21: Sailing onwards

Notes:

Just want to say a big thank you to those who are leaving kudos, hits and comments. It gives me more initiative to continue the story with every chapter I create.

Elyndria woke to the sound of the wind sighing through the narrow crevices of the cave. The fire had burned low, its embers barely glowing, casting faint shadows along the rock walls.

She lay still for a moment, her body unwilling to move from the relative warmth of her cloak. But as her senses sharpened, she became aware of the quiet stillness that had settled over the others.

Her gaze drifted beside her, where Rand lay curled in on himself, his body taut even in sleep. His brows were drawn together, his expression troubled. Elyndria frowned, watching the way his fingers twitched, how his breath came in uneven pulls. Even now, he couldn't escape the tension that gripped him so tightly when he was awake.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she carefully pushed herself up, making sure not to disturb the others.

Moiraine was still, her features unreadable even in rest, while Lan lay near the cave entrance, his sword within easy reach. They would all wake soon enough. But for now, the weight of everything—the prophecy, the Aiel, the uncertainty ahead—felt too heavy to bear while surrounded by sleeping figures.

She needed air.

Moving carefully, Elyndria made her way toward the mouth of the cave, stepping lightly to avoid any loose stones that might betray her.

Her eyes scanned the darkness, searching for any signs of movement beyond the entrance.

She wasn’t foolish enough to believe they were safe, even here. The Whitecloaks could still be hunting them. The Seanchan had been moving through these lands with unnatural swiftness, and then there were the Forsaken always lurking in the shadows, unseen but never truly gone.

But as she peered into the night, she saw nothing. No figures shifting in the darkness, no gleam of armor or flash of an unfamiliar movement. Only the quiet landscape stretching before her.

Still, she didn’t let her guard down.

Slipping outside, she made her way further from the cave, her feet carrying her toward the distant crash of waves against the shore. The wind grew sharper here, tasting of salt and the endless expanse of the ocean. It was the first time in what felt like days that she could breathe without the weight of a dozen unspoken worries pressing down on her chest.

She stopped near the water’s edge, closing her eyes for a moment.

The sound of the waves filled her ears, drowning out everything else; the whispers of prophecy, the looming uncertainty of what Rand would become, the ever-present danger that followed them wherever they went.

Everything had changed so quickly. It felt as if they were all caught in a current, being pulled toward some distant, inevitable end. And yet, no matter how much she tried to make sense of it all, the pieces never seemed to fit together.

Rand as the Car’a’carn.

Could it be true?

The Aiel believed he could be it. And Rand—Light, Rand had already been burdened with so much.

Was it fair to put another name on his shoulders, another destiny he had no choice but to accept?

Elyndria opened her eyes, staring out over the dark waves.

She wished she could quiet the storm inside her own mind. But even here, surrounded by the vastness of the ocean, the weight of what was coming pressed down on her. And deep in her heart, she knew that this was only the beginning.

The waves rolled steadily against the shore, their rhythmic crashing a strange comfort against the whirlwind of Elyndria’s thoughts. The air was sharp with the scent of salt, the breeze lifting her hair as she stood gazing out over the endless expanse of the ocean.

She wasn’t alone for long.

Soft footsteps approached from behind, too measured, too deliberate to be anyone but Moiraine.

Elyndria turned her head slightly, just enough to confirm what she already knew. The Blue Aes Sedai stood a few paces away, her deep blue cloak blending into the shadows, her expression unreadable.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

It was Elyndria who finally broke the silence. "There’s something I need to tell you." Moiraine raised a brow, waiting. Elyndria hesitated before drawing in a breath.

"Liandrin. She’s not what she seems. She gave Nynaeve, Egwene and Elayne to the Seanchan. I believe she’s… Black Ajah." The words felt heavy in her mouth, like speaking them aloud gave them more power, more truth. "And if that’s true, then there could be others. The White Tower isn’t as safe as we think. The Aes Sedai will have to be careful. The Amyrlin Seat even more."

She studied Moiraine’s face, searching for a reaction.

The Blue Aes Sedai was still, her eyes dark and thoughtful. But when she finally sighed, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly, Elyndria saw something rare in her—weariness.

“A fear I have had for a while, I’m afraid," Moiraine admitted softly. "The Shadow is too tempting for our sisters who linger too far from the Light. Power, ambition, fear… it is a dangerous thing, Elyndria, when an Aes Sedai allows herself to be ruled by such things."

Elyndria swallowed hard. "What will you do?"

"We will tell the Amyrlin Seat of this when we return to the White Tower," Moiraine said firmly. But there was something in her voice—something unspoken.

Elyndria hesitated before saying, "That night in Cairhien… you and the Amyrlin Seat. I’ve never seen her speak to anyone the way she spoke to you. And you—" she glanced at Moiraine carefully, "you looked close. Connected in a way I’ve never seen before."

Moiraine didn’t speak for a moment. Her expression was unreadable as she stared out at the dark horizon, but Elyndria saw it; the way her fingers twitched at her sides, how she inhaled deeply, like something pained her.

"It is not something I can explain to you, Elyndria," Moiraine said at last, her voice quiet, but steady. "But you are right. She and I share a connection that is… deeper than most would understand. It is not something I wish to speak of, but know this—there are few in this world I would trust with my life. And she is one of them."

Elyndria nodded slowly, but her mind was still whirling.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. "Lan told me that the White Tower doesn’t know I chose to go with Rand."

Moiraine’s gaze flicked to her, something unreadable in her eyes. "Because I ordered him not to tell them."

Elyndria’s brows furrowed. "Why?"

Moiraine regarded her carefully before answering. "I thought it was in all our best interests to keep that a secret."

"You are Blue Ajah," Elyndria said, almost accusingly. "Focused on duty, on the mission. I thought you would tell them."

Moiraine inhaled deeply, as if choosing her words carefully. "You were brought on this mission to help. And you did. And even when I was not there, you continued to do so. You have kept Rand alive… helped him keep control of his abilities. He has loyalty to you now."

Elyndria shifted uncomfortably, looking away. "I didn’t do it to make him loyal to me. Or to the Aes Sedai."

Moiraine let out a small, knowing snort. "No. I don’t think he will ever be loyal to the Aes Sedai."

A flicker of amusement tugged at Elyndria’s lips. She knew Rand too well to argue that.

She hesitated, then murmured, "The months I spent with Rand… we built trust between each other. We learned to care for one another." She trailed off, uncertain of how to say the rest.

Moiraine hummed knowingly. "Now you are together."

Elyndria’s breath caught, her heart hammering slightly. "I—"

"You know I can’t help but be wary about this new connection between you and Rand," Moiraine said, her voice quieter now. "But I also know that nothing I say or do will change anything. Just… be careful, Elyndria." Her gaze softened just a fraction. "The heart is a precious, fragile thing. Even more so with everything that is happening."

Elyndria’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. She knew the risks. She knew what loving Rand meant. But Moiraine’s words still settled heavily in her chest.

She nodded slowly. "I will."

Moiraine hummed quietly, “Lan and I are going to the market in Falme to get things before we make our way to the docks. We will be back in an hour. Make sure you are prepared to leave by then.”

Elyndria watched as they departed without much ceremony, slipping out of the cave as silent as shadows to procure clothing and supplies for the long voyage ahead.

She waited until their figures were but a distant blur along the beach before turning back toward the cave, stepping inside just as the sound of conversation and laughter reached her ears.

The others were already awake.

Perrin sat at the center, his broad form hunched forward slightly as he spoke, his eyes reflecting the dim light.

“I don’t fully understand it yet,” he admitted, voice low but steady. “But it’s real. I’m a wolfbrother.”

“A wolfbrother?” Egwene repeated, leaning forward, intrigued.

Perrin nodded. “I share a connection with wolves. I can communicate with them, sense them even when they’re far away. And my senses… they’ve changed. I can hear things, smell things I shouldn’t be able to.” He exhaled. “It’s not the One Power. It’s something… older.”

Loial, sitting cross-legged beside him, let out a soft hum of interest. His massive hands rested on his knees as he regarded Perrin with deep fascination.

“There isn’t much written about wolfbrothers,” he mused, his ears twitching slightly in excitement. “Most scholars consider them myths, relics of an age long past. It will be fascinating to learn more about your abilities as we travel.”

“Well, we’ll have a month for it,” Mat grumbled, stretching out lazily. “No offense, but I’m not exactly looking forward to being stuck on a boat with everyone for that long.”

“None taken,” Egwene replied with a smirk. “I feel the same about you.”

The group chuckled lightly, the tension in the air easing for a moment. Elyndria let herself smile as she watched Rand laugh with his friends. He had been so weighed down by responsibility these past few days, by fate itself, that she had almost forgotten what he looked like when he was simply Rand.

The boy from the Two Rivers, not the Dragon Reborn.

Mat, ever the mischief-maker, suddenly hummed in thought before glancing toward the Aiel who stood watch near the entrance of the cave.

“I wouldn’t mind being stuck in close quarters with them, though.” His grin was nothing short of wicked.

Rand snorted, wiping his face before shaking his head. “They’ll eat you alive.”

Mat grinned even wider, glancing at Rand slyly. “I think I’ll be the one doing the eating—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Nynaeve shoved him roughly, her face a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“Light, you’re disgusting,” she huffed, rolling her eyes but not entirely hiding the amused tilt of her lips.

Rand and Mat burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cave.

Elyndria felt her cheeks warm and quickly looked away. They’re just as bad as Maksim, Ihvon, and Alanna when they were together, she thought with a mixture of embarrassment and reluctant fondness.

Their minds were absolute filth during the missions she had been on with them during her time at the White Tower.

Still, despite the teasing and absurdity, there was something undeniably comforting about the scene, watching the friends, laugh and tease between each other. She hadn’t had that type of relationships in the White Tower, no close friends who would joke with her as she grew up.

She was envious of their friendship. It would have been nice to have someone her age to grow up with, perhaps her time at the tower wouldn’t have been as lonely before she became a novice.

Elyndria stood slightly apart from the group, watching the way laughter softened the tension that had been pressing on all of them for so long. Rand was smiling—truly smiling—his eyes crinkling as he shook his head at something Mat had said. It was good to see. He had been so heavy with responsibility, so burdened by the weight of what he was supposed to become.

Seeing him like this, even for a moment, was a relief.

But she still felt distant from it, as though she were watching through a pane of glass.

The conversation with Moiraine lingered in her mind, darkening her thoughts. The Black Ajah. The Amrylin Seat. Moiraine’s warning. And Rand… him most of all.

She barely noticed Rand approaching until he was standing beside her. His presence was steady, grounding, and yet it made something flutter uneasily in her chest.

“You were gone when I woke up.” His voice was quiet, meant only for her.

Elyndria shrugged, arms tightening loosely around herself. “I didn’t sleep very well and didn’t want to wake you. I was enjoying the cool breeze outside the cave.”

Rand studied her, brows knitting together.

His voice lowered further. “Was it your nightmares again?”

She looked down quickly, her fingers curling into her sleeves. The air between them felt heavier now. She shook her head, but the denial felt weak. She hated talking about them.

Because I don’t understand them, she admitted silently. And because I don’t want you to worry more than you already do.

Rand sighed, shifting closer. She could feel the warmth of him even without touching, and it was both comforting and suffocating. He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully.

“Elyndria…” His voice was softer now, a note of frustration laced with something gentler. “You don’t have to keep things from me.”

Her throat tightened. “It’s not that I want to,” she murmured. “I just… don’t know what to say.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a small, resigned chuckle. “I know that feeling.”

At that, she glanced up, and for the first time in what felt like hours, the weight on her chest loosened. He understood.

She exhaled slowly, then, almost without thinking, let her thoughts slip out.

“I’ll miss Foregate,” she admitted softly, watching the dim firelight flicker on the walls. “It was… nice, living there. Even if it was temporary.” A small, halfhearted smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll even miss working as a barmaid.”

Rand chuckled faintly, though there was a sad edge to it. “You? Serving drinks and listening to drunk men ramble?”

Elyndria huffed a quiet laugh.

“Oh, don’t remind me.” Her expression softened. “But still… it was simple. No prophecies or Forsaken or running for our lives. Just… life.”

Rand nodded, staring past her as if he could still see the streets of Foregate in the distance.

“I’ll miss it too.” He was quiet for a beat, then turned his gaze back to her. “But… the best part of Foregate is with me.” She blinked, caught off guard. Rand smiled, small but certain. “You and me. That’s all I need right now.”

Elyndria smiled softly, looking up at him hoping that the look in her eyes conveyed that she felt the exact same.  

Rand’s friends laughed again, their voices echoing softly off the cave walls. Elyndria watched as Rand’s attention was drawn back to them, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

“And I’m happy to be with them again,” he murmured. There was a weight behind his words, an unspoken relief that he wasn’t alone in this. His fingers curled slightly at his sides, as if holding onto the moment. “I have no idea what’s going to happen in the future, but as long as I’m with you all… hopefully… we might just stand a chance against the Dark One and his shadows.”

Elyndria hummed lightly, tilting her head.

“I don’t think any one of us will be leaving each other’s side…” She smirked slightly, allowing a teasing glint to enter her eyes. “We will be confined on a boat for a month, after all.”

Rand groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Light, don’t remind me.” Then, as if realizing something, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “I will miss our privacy.”

She shot him a suspicious look just as he glanced down at her, eyes gleaming with mischief. He leaned in, voice dropping to a low murmur meant only for her. “I certainly will miss being able to kiss or touch you the way I want.”

Elyndria’s face burned instantly. She stiffened, heart skipping a beat, her gaze darting toward the others in mild panic. Light, did anyone hear that?

She opened her mouth, ready to scold him, when—

Moiraine and Lan entered the cave, large bags slung over their arms. The room fell quiet as the Blue Aes Sedai and Warder approached, their presence immediately shifting the mood back to something more serious.

Without a word, they set the bags down in front of the group, the weight of them hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Moiraine dusted off her hands and straightened.

“There should be enough clothing for all of you to last the journey,” she said, nodding toward the bags. “Pick what you need quickly. We leave within the hour.”

Elyndria exhaled, shaking off her embarrassment as she turned her focus to the task at hand.

The time for teasing and stolen moments was over. It was time to move forward.
The boat awaited.

The cave filled with the quiet rustling of fabric as everyone moved toward the bags, rummaging through the clothes Moiraine and Lan had acquired. Elyndria knelt beside one of the bags, sifting through the garments. The clothing was practical—simple tunics, sturdy breeches, dresses and cloaks thick enough to shield against the sea winds.

She chose a deep blue tunic and a pair of dark breeches, slipping them on quickly, the fabric cool against her skin. Around her, the others did the same, muttering quietly as they adjusted belts, fastened boots, and pulled on cloaks.

Mat tugged at his shirt, making a face. “Light, did you two buy these clothes for a bunch of farmers? This fits like a bloody sack.”

Lan shot him a look, unimpressed. “It’s meant for travel, not for parading around like a noble.”

Mat scoffed but didn’t argue.

Egwene wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders. “It’s better than what we had before.”

Elyndria felt someone watching her as she was fastening the buttons of her tunic. She looked up and saw Rand looking at her, his gaze lingering for a moment on her, he blushed lightly and cleared his throat as he saw her looking at him. He quickly looked down at his own belt and pretend to fiddle with it causing her to smile slightly in amusement.

Lan and Moiraine took a final glance around the cave before the Warder spoke. “We leave now. Stay together. We avoid the inner city and keep to the outskirts. If anyone notices us, act natural and do not draw attention.”

With that, they set out.

The path through Falme was tense and silent. They moved along the edges of the city, keeping to narrow alleyways and less-traveled streets. The scent of salt and fish filled the air, the sea breeze carrying the distant murmur of voices from the docks.

Every so often, Elyndria would glance behind them, watching for any signs of Whitecloaks, Seanchan, or worse. But for now, it seemed their presence had gone unnoticed.

After what felt like an eternity of weaving through the city, they finally reached the docks. The harbor stretched out before them, a collection of merchant ships, fishing boats, and trade vessels rocking gently in the water.

Moiraine and Lan led them toward a small merchant ship nestled among the larger vessels. It wasn’t grand, but it didn’t look like it was falling apart either. The wooden planks were sturdy, the sails intact. It would be enough.

Rand exhaled, looking up at the ship. “This is it, then.”

Moiraine nodded. “It will be sufficient for the journey back to Tal Valor. We should board quickly. The less attention we draw, the better.”

Elyndria followed as they ascended the gangplank one by one, stepping onto the deck that would be their home for the next month. The ship’s captain, a wiry man with graying hair, exchanged brief words with Moiraine before barking orders to his crew.

As the ship made its final preparations to set sail, Elyndria walked to the railing, looking back at Falme. The city’s rooftops and towers were bathed in the dim morning light, the streets they had just walked through already bustling with early risers.

Elyndria watched as the ship pulled away from the docks, the city of Falme shrinking behind them. She exhaled softly, arms resting on the wooden railing as the morning breeze tousled her hair.

A part of her worried for the people they left behind and she could only hope that it wouldn’t fall under the shadow of the Seanchan or the Dark One’s forces again. With Rand’s proclamation as the Dragon Reborn spreading across the land, trouble would surely follow.

She sighed and turned away as Lan gestured for them to follow. "Come. The captain has set aside a cabin for us."

The group descended a narrow set of stairs into the belly of the ship, Moiraine leading the way. The passenger cabin was larger than Elyndria expected but still not large enough for all of them to share comfortably.

Mat stepped inside first, taking in the tight space with wide, horrified eyes. There were two large beds on either side of the room, with two worn-looking couches against the far wall. Other than that, the space was bare with just wooden planks, a single lantern hanging from the ceiling, and a small chest in the corner.

Mat slowly turned to Moiraine, disbelief written all over his face. "You couldn’t have found a bigger ship, could you?"

Moiraine chuckled softly, her amusement fleeting but genuine. "Not one that was docking the next day. We will be fine. Take turns sharing the beds and sleeping on the floor."

Mat hummed doubtfully, then his eyes flicked toward the Aiel women standing near the entrance. Aviendha, Bain, and Chiad were surveying the cabin with their usual critical expressions, seemingly assessing how best to settle in. A slow grin spread across Mat’s face as he cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"Ladies," he began smoothly, flashing them his most charming smile, "how would you like to share—"

Lan cut him off with a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple as though already exhausted. "The girls will have the beds first. The rest of us will sleep on the floor."

Mat groaned dramatically, but before he could argue, Aviendha shot him a flat look.

"You would not survive a night sharing a bed with us, gambler," she said, unimpressed.

Chiad smirked. "No, but it would be amusing to watch him try."

Loial let out a deep chuckle from the doorway, shaking his head as he stepped inside. "This will certainly be an interesting journey."

The room filled with the shuffling of bodies as everyone hesitantly began settling in.

Mat dramatically threw himself onto one of the couches with a groan, covering his eyes with his forearm. "I already regret this trip," he muttered.

Perrin snorted as he lowered himself onto the floor near the wall, his golden eyes glinting in the dim light. "You complain too much."

Mat peeked out from under his arm. "Of course I do. I’m the only one brave enough to say what we’re all thinking."

Egwene rolled her eyes as she set down her pack, taking a seat on one of the beds. "We’ll make it work. We’ve been through worse."

Loial settled himself carefully near Perrin, his large frame making the already-cramped space feel even smaller. He let out a thoughtful hum. “Perhaps it will not be so bad. I have read of long sea journeys. Some say they can be quite peaceful.”

Mat groaned again, throwing another arm dramatically over his face. “Loial, my friend, I have no idea what books you’ve been reading, but I assure you, this will not be peaceful.”

Egwene smirked. “Not with you complaining the whole time, it won’t be.”

Mat sat up, pointing at her. “I am providing much-needed commentary on our unfortunate situation, thank you very much.”

---

The group spent the afternoon exploring the ship, getting a sense of its layout. It was small, built for trade rather than comfort, but it would serve them well enough for the journey ahead.

The crew, a handful of weathered sailors, barely paid them any mind. Only acknowledging their presence with a nod or a grunt before returning to their duties.

By nightfall, they had gathered on the deck for dinner, bowls of simple stew in their hands as they sat in loose circles.

The Aiel, usually distant, had joined them, speaking of the Three-fold Land and their distant homes. Loial listened intently, eyes wide with fascination, asking thoughtful questions between bites of food. Even Egwene and Nynaeve seemed engaged, drawn into the tales of harsh deserts, warrior societies, and a culture so different from their own.

Elyndria sat with Mat and Perrin, smirking as Mat dramatically recounted a story from his time travelling after leaving the White Tower.

Perrin chuckled, shaking his head. “You make it sound like an epic tale, but all you did was fall off the tavern table.”

“Exactly! With grace, I might add,” Mat said, grinning.

Elyndria laughed, but then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed Rand sitting apart from the group.

He was alone near the rail, staring up at the stars, his shoulders stiff, his face drawn. For a moment, she considered letting him be, but something about the way he was so still, almost lost, made her walk toward him.

He didn’t seem to notice her approach at first, and when he did, he only glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the sky. It was an almost automatic response.

But his presence, his posture, spoke volumes to her. Something had shifted in him.

Elyndria could feel it even from here. The weight of the world was settling onto his shoulders more with each passing day. She knew he was struggling.

She sat beside him, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body but far enough not to intrude. He acknowledged her with a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes, and then fell silent again, gazing upward.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Elyndria leaned back on her hands, letting the cool night air wash over her, trying to find some quiet of her own. The sea breeze carried the distant sound of the others’ laughter from the deck, but it felt muffled, distant, like a reminder of something they couldn’t quite reach.

Rand broke the silence, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “Do you ever think about your parents?”

The question caught Elyndria off guard.

She hadn’t expected him to ask. No one had asked her about her parents in a long time, and the truth was, she hadn’t thought much about them either. The memories were too faint, buried under years of training and service at the White Tower.

The only thing she knew about her parents was that they had abandoned her before she could even understand the meaning of such a thing. Left her on the steps of the White Tower as a toddler.

Elyndria swallowed, a tightness in her chest. Her thoughts were tangled, and she wasn’t sure how to answer him.

“Why do you ask?” she said softly, meeting his eyes briefly.

Rand shrugged, a tight movement that seemed to carry more weight than the simple gesture suggested. His eyes dropped to his hands, fidgeting, as if searching for something in them. He was quiet for a moment, the unspoken words hanging between them.

“My father... Tam... When Trollocs came to our village, he was injured, delirious. He was mumbling things. About finding me on the slopes of Dragonmount. I don’t know who my real parents were. Or if they even cared. I don’t know if they loved me or if they ever thought about me.” He exhaled, the sound harsh and jagged.

Elyndria felt a surge of empathy, her heart tightening in her chest. She had no answers for him, no comforting words, but she could feel his pain, that deep ache of not knowing.

The ache of being left behind.

“I understand,” she said quietly. “I don’t know who my parents were either. Just that they left me at the White Tower when I was barely old enough to remember anything. And... I don’t know if I ever wanted to remember them.” Rand shifted beside her, and she could feel the tension in his body as he turned to face her. There was something raw in his eyes, something he didn’t often show. The weight of everything that had happened—the prophecy, the burden of being the Dragon Reborn, the endless battles they all faced—was pulling at him, tugging him deeper than he cared to admit.

“But maybe it doesn’t matter,” she continued, her voice softer now, reflective. “Maybe what matters is not where we come from, but where we choose to go. What we make of what’s ahead.” She took a slow breath, letting the words settle. “I think that’s what really matters, Rand.”

Rand was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a small huff of laughter, he shook his head. “That sounds like something Loial would say.”

She smiled, a faint curve of her lips. “Well, he is wise beyond his years.”

Rand’s smile was small, but it lingered longer this time. And when he reached over, brushing his fingers lightly against hers, Elyndria felt the weight of the moment shift. His hand was warm, his touch soft, and for the briefest second, she felt as though the entire world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Rand murmured, his voice thick with something more than gratitude.

Elyndria squeezed his hand, holding on a little longer than usual. “Always.”

The words hung between them, unspoken but understood. In this moment, beneath the stars and the vast sea, nothing seemed quite so impossible. They were together, and that, for now, was enough.

As the ship moved steadily through the night, Elyndria leaned back against the rail, her eyes drifting up to the stars once more.

She couldn’t shake the weight of Rand’s words.

He was right to wonder about his parents, but she couldn’t help but think that, in some ways, they had both been abandoned. Left to find their way alone, only to discover that they weren’t truly alone after all. They had each other.

For now, that was enough.

"It's strange," she murmured, her voice barely above the whisper of the wind, "that your father found you on the slopes of Dragonmount."

Rand blinked, gazing back at her, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Why?"

Elyndria tilted her body more into Rand, turning to face him. "You do know about the history of Dragonmount, don't you?"

Rand shook his head, his expression still clouded.

Elyndria took a deep breath and shifted closer, letting her body lean into his warmth as she spoke.

"We were told about it in our novice classes," she said softly. "Personally, I never liked it. It always made me feel... sad."

Rand’s brow furrowed, clearly not understanding. Elyndria hesitated for a moment, but then the words came easily, as if she had always known she'd need to say them.

"It was created during the Breaking of the World, a time of madness and destruction," Elyndria continued. "Lews Therin, the Dragon, was driven insane by the taint on Saidin. When he regained his sanity, the horror of what he had done to his loved ones—the people he cared for—hit him with such force that he became consumed with grief. In his despair, he channeled everything he could, more than any human should. He called upon the One Power until he had reached the limits of what he could do... and then beyond it. The result was a pillar of white-hot energy that came crashing down from the sky." Elyndria paused, her breath catching in her chest.

Even now, she felt a tightness in her throat when she thought about it.

"The explosion was so powerful that it vaporized him. His body, his very existence, was destroyed. But what followed... was worse. The energy he channeled tunneled deep into the earth, reaching the mantle and triggering a volcanic eruption of unimaginable size. That eruption created Dragonmount,” She turned her gaze back to the sea, the endless horizon stretching out before her, and let her voice drop to a near whisper. "The force of the eruption also changed the land, creating an island that would become known as Tar Valon. All of it tied to the moment when Lews Therin’s grief and power collided."

Rand was quiet for a long while, the only sound the soft creak of the ship and the distant murmur of the others still eating and talking on the deck.

Elyndria could feel the tension in him, as if the weight of her words was slowly sinking in.

“It’s a tragic story,” Elyndria added after a moment, her gaze still fixed on the distant waves. “It’s hard to think about, especially knowing that you... you're connected to all of it, in some way.”

Rand exhaled slowly, his eyes still on the horizon.

"I didn’t know any of that. I mean, I knew the basics, but hearing it like that... it’s... it’s a lot to take in." He shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips, though it was dry and humorless. "I guess I’m not just the Dragon Reborn. I’m the legacy of a mountain too, huh?"

Elyndria felt a deep, bittersweet sympathy for him. She couldn’t imagine the weight of carrying such a title, the knowledge that everything, even the very land beneath his feet, had been shaped by a tragedy so vast and unthinkable. It was as if the very world itself had been marked by pain and now, so was he.

"Maybe," Elyndria said quietly, her voice softening with the weight of shared understanding. "But you don’t have to carry all of it, Rand. Not alone. We’re all here, together. The people who care about you, the people who understand what you’re going through. That’s... that’s what matters. You don’t have to face all of this burden on your own."

He turned to her then, his eyes searching hers, as if trying to find some anchor in the vast sea of his confusion and uncertainty.

The connection between them was palpable, a shared moment of understanding that neither had expected but both needed.

Rand’s gaze softened, and for a brief second, the vulnerability in his eyes was raw, unguarded. "I never thought I’d find people who would stand by me like this... people who would understand. But I... I don’t know what I’d do without all of you."

Elyndria squeezed his hand once more, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "You won’t ever have to worry about being alone Rand al’Thor."

The silence between them was comfortable now, the weight of the night settling in with a quiet understanding.

Above them, the stars twinkled, distant and ancient, as if bearing witness to the stories of the world. Stories that could never be fully understood, only lived through. And in that moment, Elyndria realized that maybe that was enough. Perhaps not all answers could be found, but they could still find their way, together.

Chapter 22: Weaving bonds

The days aboard the ship passed in a slow, sun-drenched rhythm, each one blending into the next as they made their way steadily across the sea.

Elyndria had spent the first few days below deck, curled in misery, her stomach rebelling against every roll of the waves. She had tried to hide it, of course, stubborn as ever, but Elayne had noticed quickly.

Without fanfare, she had placed a gentle hand on Elyndria’s back and embraced the Source, weaving threads of Spirit and Water with a deftness that spoke of natural talent, even though she was still a novice in training. The sea sickness vanished in a blink, leaving Elyndria blinking back tears of gratitude.

It was in the quiet moment after that Elyndria had learned the truth. That Elayne was not just a girl with golden curls and a warm smile, but the Daughter-Heir of Andor, sent to the White Tower to train as an Aes Sedai.

Elyndria had stared for a moment, unsure what to say, before simply nodding and saying, “That makes sense,” as if everything about Elayne—her confidence, her poise, her command of the Power—clicked into place.

Since then, Elyndria had adjusted to the life on the ship, though the heat had become a constant companion. Her once-pale skin now held a golden hue from the relentless sun, and her pale-blonde hair had been pulled back into a practical bun at the nape of her neck.

It was easier to manage that way, easier to stay cool. Rand, however, seemed to appreciate it more than she’d expected.

He often found excuses to linger near her when she was leaning on the rail or studying the horizon. His fingers would brush her neck under the pretense of brushing away a strand of hair, and his lips—gods, his lips—had found their way there more than once when no one was looking.

She pretended to scold him each time, but never pulled away.

On the upper deck, the Aiel women held their daily training with an intensity that never wavered.

They moved like desert winds: swift, sharp, and unrelenting. Elyndria often watched them in fascination, marveling at their grace and deadliness. Sometimes, Rand, Perrin, or Mat would join the practice, though they were inevitably humbled.

The Aiel women made short work of them each time, darting in and out with wooden spears, leaving the three of them red-faced and bruised but laughing. Lan, the stoic Warder, was another matter. When he sparred with the maidens, the fights were faster, more precise. They were blurs of motion that left onlookers breathless.

Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost.

Elyndria found herself drawn to the rhythm of life on board. It was strangely peaceful, even amidst the clang of practice weapons and the occasional grumbling from Mat about sore ribs or bruised pride.

In the evenings, they would gather under the stars, the ship rocking gently beneath them as stories were shared and laughter echoed over the water.

Elayne, Egwene and Nynaeve often sat together, whispering about the Tower and their lessons. Perrin usually carved small figurines with a steady hand while Mat gambled with the sailors. Half the time cheating, and the other half bluffing so well it didn’t matter.

Moiraine, Lan and Loial would hover near by sometimes watching or talking between eachother. Loial seemed to find enjoyment in having avid listeners when talking about stories he knew of history. The Aiel would usually wonder over when he would tell his stories, their eyes wide with curiosity as they learnt of things they did not know.

Rand remained the quiet center of it all, always half-present, always watching.

And Elyndria, though she sometimes felt like a thread woven between stronger strands, was becoming a part of this odd, mismatched tapestry.

She still felt the weight of everything that had been said that night under the stars—the story of Dragonmount, the legacy of the Dragon Reborn—but the heaviness had begun to dull. Not vanish, never that, but settle into something she could bear.

---

The moon hung low over the sea, casting silver light over the gently rocking deck. Most of the others had drifted into laughter and games or turned in for the night, but Elyndria sat alone at the edge of the ship, her legs curled beneath her, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders.

In her lap a well-worn book rested open, a gift from one of the older crewmembers, a toothless sailor with a fondness for tales and a soft spot for curious listeners. It was a story of a pirate who sailed into the unknown, chasing the edge of the world and finding magic in both land and sea.

Elyndria found herself lost in its pages, enjoying the adventure, the escape, the simple rhythm of a life untethered by prophecy or Power.

She looked up only when she sensed movement and found Egwene hovering nearby, her arms crossed, face unreadable in the moonlight.

Elyndria blinked and quickly closed the book, shifting over on the bench to make room.

“Want to sit?” she offered, hoping her voice sounded more casual than the twist of nerves in her stomach felt.

Egwene hesitated a breath, then gave a small nod.

“Thanks.” She settled beside her with a graceful sweep of skirts, folding her hands in her lap.

It was the first time they had been alone together. No Rand. No Moiraine. No shared conversations or training sessions between them. Just the two of them and the quiet breath of the ocean.

Elyndria tried not to fidget. She stared out over the dark water, trying to think of something to say.

But Egwene spoke first.

“He’s different, you know. Rand.” Her voice was soft, almost wistful. “I noticed it straight away.”

Elyndria’s throat tightened. She nodded slowly.

“He’s changed. Grown a lot these past few months.” She glanced across the deck where Rand was sitting in the flickering lantern light, laughing at something Mat had said. Loial was with them, visibly confused by the rules of the card game but smiling anyway. Perrin, more reserved, watched them all with his usual quiet warmth.

“The journey he’s on,” Elyndria continued, voice low, “it weighs on him. Some days more than others.”

Egwene took a deep breath, her eyes following Elyndria’s. “It’s not entirely a bad thing. He stands taller now. He’s more confident. Even if he’s unsure of the path he’s meant to walk. He’s… becoming who he’s meant to be.”

A silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but thick with unsaid words. The kind of silence where truths wait, pressing at the edges of breath.

Then Egwene spoke again. “I’m not mad at you,” she said suddenly, “or at Rand. For being together.” Elyndria turned her head, surprised. “In the beginning,” Egwene went on, “I was hurt. Sad. Maybe even angry but not at you. Or even Rand, really. Just… the situation.” She gave a tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Our relationship was already unraveling before he left with you and Moiraine. Even if the Trollocs hadn’t come to the Two Rivers… I think we still would’ve grown apart.”

Elyndria’s lips parted, but she said nothing. She sensed Egwene wasn’t finished. “I was going to apprentice with Nynaeve,” Egwene said quietly. “To be a Wisdom. We can’t marry, can’t have children. A life of healing and service means giving up… that kind of love. And Rand…” She trailed off, her gaze softening on the man across the deck. “He’s always wanted a family. A wife. Children. A life rooted in the earth.”

Egwene turned to Elyndria then, and for the first time, her expression held not just peace but understanding.

“I see now that I never would’ve fit into that dream of his. And maybe… maybe that’s okay.”

Elyndria let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She met Egwene’s eyes and offered a small, honest smile.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For telling me.”

A gentle breeze stirred the air between them, lifting strands of hair from their faces.

“I just want him to be happy,” Egwene said at last, her voice nearly lost to the wind. “Even if it’s not with me.”

Elyndria nodded, her heart heavy but lighter than before.

“So do I.”

For the first time since the voyage began, the distance between the two women felt smaller.

Not erased, not forgotten but bridged.

They sat together in silence for a while longer, the waves whispering below, the stars blinking overhead. And for a moment, the weight of the world eased—if only a little.

---

The deck began to fall into a peaceful hush an hour later, the laughter and voices fading into the low creaks of wood and the endless hush of waves slapping gently against the hull.

One by one, the others had disappeared below. Lan with his quiet grace, Perrin trailing behind with a yawn, Mat still grumbling about cheating, and Loial with his ever-present enthusiasm for “just one more game.” Even Egwene had given her a soft goodnight with a thoughtful glance that lingered longer than it once would have.

Rand had been the last to leave.

He’d hesitated, his hand lingering at the small of Elyndria’s back, his eyes searching hers.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright up here alone?” he’d asked, voice quiet, rough with the beginnings of sleep.

She had smiled, hand brushing his chest in reassurance. “It’s just me, the sea, and a book. I think I’ll survive.”

Still, he lingered, reluctant.

She leaned up then and pressed her lips to his. It was a soft kiss; unhurried, warm. It made her heart flutter and her lips curl with quiet contentment. When he finally did leave, she watched him until he disappeared down the stairs, the scent of sea and him still lingering in the air.

Now, she was alone beneath the stars.

Elyndria nestled deeper into her blanket, holding the worn book open in her lap. The pirate story was growing more dramatic, storm-tossed seas and whispered legends of sea monsters and hidden lands, but her focus had begun to drift. Her eyes flicked between the pages and the swaying mast above, watching the sail ripple like a great white wing in the night breeze.

That was when she felt it.

A subtle ripple in the air. A humming beneath her skin. Familiar now, like catching the scent of rain before the storm even broke.

Saidar.

Someone was channeling.

She stilled, breath caught in her throat, eyes sweeping the deck.

Moiraine’s voice echoed in her mind Be cautious. The One Power is not to be used carelessly, especially here. We must not draw attention.

Curiosity and wariness warred in her chest as she stood, clutching the book to her side, and followed the faint trail of energy toward the bow of the ship.

There, standing alone in a patch of moonlight, was Aviendha.

The Aiel woman was focused, arms lifted slightly, her fingers weaving invisible threads through the air. The weaves were small, tentative. Nothing powerful. But they were unmistakably there.

Elyndria blinked, surprised.

The image was so unlike the fierce Maiden of the Spear she knew. Aviendha, who trained relentlessly in the heat of day, who moved with the ease of a warrior born now stood in stillness, trying to guide threads of the Power with all the hesitancy of a novice.

The weaves dissolved abruptly as Aviendha turned, eyes narrowing. “I did not notice you there.”

Elyndria stepped forward, surprised still echoing in her voice. “I didn’t know… you could channel.”

Aviendha looked away, down at her hands. Her fingers curled slowly into fists, her jaw tightening.

“I do not use my gifts often,” she said. “I only realized I could channel not long ago. It is why the Wise Ones sent me to scout ahead, before I was captured by the Seanchan. A last mission before…before I give up my spear.” Her voice faltered.

Elyndria’s brow furrowed as she drew closer.

Aviendha always carried herself like someone carved from granite—strong, proud, immovable.

But now… now she looked like a storm-swept cliff.

Cracked at the edges. Tired.

“I don’t understand,” Elyndria said, frowning. “Why would you need to give it up at all? I’ve seen the way you Maidens treat the spears—it’s more than just a weapon to you. It’s like… it’s part of who you are.”

Aviendha exhaled sharply. Not angry—just… frustrated. Conflicted.

“The Wise Ones are our leaders,” she explained slowly. “Matriarchs among the Aiel. Every woman who can channel, or Dreamwalk, is trained as a Wise One. It is our way. They are not warriors. They do not take part in battle.” She looked down at her hands again, then toward the horizon, as if searching for answers among the stars.

“When I return, I will be expected to give up the spear. To begin my training. I will not be allowed to fight again. I will be expected to wear skirts, to walk barefoot in the sand, to speak in riddles and patience.” Her voice broke a little there. “But I have always wanted to be a Maiden of the Spear. Since I could stand. Since I could run. It is who I am. My pride. My life. To give it up feels… wrong.”

Elyndria's heart ached at the pain in Aviendha’s voice. The struggle between duty and desire. Between what was expected and what was true.

“Is that why you accepted the mission?” she asked gently. “To delay it all?”

Aviendha gave a heavy, weary sigh. “Yes. To run, maybe. Just for a while longer. To hold onto who I am… before I am forced to become someone else.”

Elyndria stepped closer, not entirely sure what to say.

She understood the weight of destiny. Of choices that weren’t choices at all. She saw it in Rand every day. She felt it herself more and more, the deeper she walked into the current of the One Power.

“You’re still you,” Elyndria said at last. “Whether you carry a spear or not. That strength in you… it’s not from the weapon you hold. It’s from you. And no one can take that away.”

Aviendha looked at her, the moonlight painting her face in silver and shadow. For a long moment, she said nothing.

Then, slowly, she nodded, “Thank you,” she said quietly.

They stood together in the silence that followed, two women touched by the Power, caught in the Wheel, yet still trying to hold onto who they were.

Far below, the sea whispered its eternal song.

And for the first time, Elyndria wondered—not for the last—just how many different paths the Wheel would ask them to walk.

And how many versions of themselves they’d have to leave behind along the way.

Aviendha eventually returned below deck, her tall form vanishing into the shadows with the graceful confidence of someone used to being alone.

Elyndria remained.

She wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders and returned to her spot near the railing, the pirate book forgotten beside her.

The stars above sparkled like a net of diamonds cast over the sea, impossibly vast and impossibly distant. Yet, for all their beauty, they felt closer than ever tonight.

She couldn’t shake the conversation from her mind. There had been something raw in Aviendha’s confession, something familiar. The quiet battle between duty and desire, between what the world needed and what the heart wanted.

Elyndria felt it too, more and more with every passing day. The road ahead no longer felt like a winding trail of possibilities, but a narrowing corridor—fate closing in, one thread of the Pattern at a time.

What would the Wheel ask of me? she wondered.

She looked down at her hands. They were small, calloused slightly from days aboard the ship and weeks of travel before that. And yet… they could command fire, call water to dance, pull light from the very air. It had all begun as awe and wonder, but now… now it felt heavy. Not a burden, exactly, but a responsibility she had never asked for.

And yet she could no longer imagine living without it.

Elyndria sighed and picked up the book again, running her fingers across the worn leather cover. She wasn’t sure if she could return to the story now. Not when her mind was swimming with so many real ones; Aviendha’s fears, Egwene’s quiet grief, her own growing doubts.

And Rand.

Her heart tugged a little tighter at the thought of him. She could feel the changes in him daily; his voice was firmer now, his shoulders set with more purpose. The softness of the boy who once stammered through his feelings was giving way to something harder.

He still smiled, still laughed, still looked at her with eyes that saw only her but there was a weight there now. A storm on the horizon. She could feel it too.

How much longer do we have like this?

Before everything changes again?

Before the battles come, and the war, and the turning of the Wheel tears us all in different directions?

The thought scared her more than she wanted to admit.

But just as the fear crept in, something else pushed back. A quiet warmth. A memory of hands held in silence. Of stories shared under stars. Of strength not born from power, but from choice.

She opened the book again.

Maybe tonight she would keep reading. Maybe tonight she would lose herself in fairytales and distant seas. There would be time tomorrow for fear and fate. Tonight, she could just be Elyndria—a girl on a ship, in love, wrapped in the night.

---

Three weeks had passed since they set sail, and while the initial strangeness of life aboard the ship had faded, the days had settled into a rhythm of quiet camaraderie and gradual healing.

Elyndria often rose with the sun, drawn by the cool morning air and the stillness before the deck grew busy.

Sometimes, she’d find Lan already awake, silent and unmoving as he watched the horizon, as though he could see the danger before it ever came. He’d occasionally nod to her, offering no words but there was comfort in that silent acknowledgment.

Later in the day, the ship came alive.

The Aiel maidens sparred on the main deck with wooden spears or swords, their bodies moving with breathtaking precision. Occasionally, Mat, Perrin, or Rand would join, wooden practice swords clashing against Aiel grace and speed.

Perrin fought with quiet strength, his strikes deliberate, like he was still surprised by the power of his own limbs. Mat was unpredictable; all twists and sudden swipes, laughing even as he got knocked down. Rand, though… he had changed. Each day, he stood straighter, moved with more control. He was learning not just how to fight, but how to lead.

And still, the Aiel usually beat them.

Sometimes Lan joined too, and those duels felt different. Like equals dancing in deadly rhythm, sweat glistening under the hot sun as practice became a game of who could outlast the other.

Elyndria always watched those matches with fascination.

Lan fought like a storm: silent, steady, powerful. It stirred something deep in her, something that made her fingers twitch with the urge to channel, though she resisted the temptation.

At night, they played cards. Mat always dealt with a cocky grin, as though the game belonged to him from the start. Elyndria suspected he cheated, but no one ever caught him. Loial joined in, a massive, gentle presence who still fumbled through the rules but laughed heartily when he finally won a hand. Elayne, curious and clever, had a knack for reading people’s tells. Egwene, more focused than most, played with narrowed eyes and quiet determination, her brow furrowed like she could will the cards into behaving.

There was laughter in those moments. Lightness. Sometimes even joy.

Moiraine and Elyndria would sometimes sit near by when they played their games. Elyndria did not have the skill or interest in the card games while Moiraine preferred to watch them with an amused air. Sometimes they would sit in silence watching the others, though there were times they would speak quietly between themselves. Moiraine was still aloof about herself but had begun to tell stories about her life in the White Tower and the missions she had been on.

Elyndria particularly liked the ones with Alanna and Saerel in them. It made her miss the Green Ajah deeply.

It was a quiet afternoon when Egwene approached her. Not with words at first, but with a hesitant look, like she was holding something fragile behind her eyes.

Elyndria was sitting near the shaded edge of the deck, a breeze rustling the pages of the book in her lap.

She looked up, instantly sensing something unspoken lingering between them. Without needing to be asked, she closed her book and offered Egwene a gentle smile.

“Do you want to sit?” she asked.

Egwene hovered for a moment, then slowly nodded. She sat down beside her with stiff shoulders, eyes scanning the horizon instead of meeting Elyndria’s gaze. There was silence between them, thick with everything that hadn't yet been said.

After a long moment, Egwene finally spoke, her voice quiet, almost reluctant. “Can I ask you something… strange?”

Elyndria turned slightly, giving her full attention. “Of course.”

Egwene hesitated, fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Would you… cut my hair?”

Elyndria blinked. “Your hair?”

“I—” Egwene took a deep breath, clearly struggling to steady her voice. “I cut it myself after… after what happened with the Seanchan. It was something I had to do. To take back control. But I didn’t really know what I was doing. I just… chopped it off.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “It’s uneven. Jagged. Not mine, not really. I just wanted it gone.”

Her eyes dropped to her hands. “But I think I’m ready now. I want it to feel like me again. Not just a memory of what they did to me.” She looked up at Elyndria finally, vulnerability plain in her expression. “I saw you cutting Nynaeve’s hair a few days ago and thought…...”

Elyndria’s heart softened. “Yes,” she said gently. “Of course. Let’s go below deck — more privacy, and better light.”

They moved in silence to a quiet corner of the lower cabins, where a sliver of golden sunlight spilled across the wooden floor.

Egwene sat on a low bench, shoulders tight, back rigid.

Elyndria fetched a small pair of shears one of the sailors had offered her for mending seams and made her way behind her.

She ran her fingers through the short, uneven strands, gauging the damage. Her touch was slow, careful but even still, Egwene flinched slightly.

“I can stop,” Elyndria offered gently.

Egwene shook her head. “No I just… I haven’t let anyone touch it since…” She trailed off.

Elyndria didn’t press.

She began to work slowly, brushing with her fingers first to avoid tugging. The short hair curled slightly at the ends, a little wild, a little unsure of itself — like Egwene. She remembered how Egwene’s hair had once flowed down her back, thick and shining like a river in sunlight.

Now, it was rougher. Uneven in places. Chopped with purpose. Chopped in pain.

“I can help even it out,” Elyndria said softly. “Make it more… yours.”

There was silence.

Then Egwene's shoulders shook. A sharp inhale escaped her. She pressed a hand over her mouth, trembling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to— It’s just— When you touch my hair like that, it reminds me of home. My mother. How we used to sit near the hearth, braiding each other’s hair…”

Tears fell, slow and quiet, and Elyndria said nothing at first. She simply knelt beside her, smoothing a lock of hair behind Egwene’s ear.

“It’s okay to cry,” she said. “You don’t need to carry it all alone.”

“I was strong,” Egwene said fiercely. “I survived the Seanchan. I didn’t break. But sometimes… I still feel broken.”

“You’re not,” Elyndria said, eyes gentle. “You’re healing. That’s not weakness. That’s the bravest thing any of us can do.”

They sat there for a long time, Egwene crying in the quiet safety of someone who would not judge her. Elyndria gently trimmed and shaped the ends, letting her hands speak the comfort her words couldn’t always carry.

When they emerged from below deck again, Egwene’s short hair had been shaped into something softer, freer. No longer a mark of violation, but of survival. A symbol of beginning again.

And Egwene walked a little taller. 

Elyndria felt a fierce kind of love for her in that moment — not romantic, but something just as deep. A bond forged in pain and healing. In trust.

---

The warm light of lanterns swayed gently above the dinner table that night as the ship rocked with the slow rhythm of the sea.

The group sat clustered together on the main deck, the air thick with a mix of salt, and spice from the stew bowls as they quietly conversed with each other.  

“We must speak about what happens once we return to Tar Valon,” Moiraine spoke up ending the quiet chatter, her voice carrying with ease across the gathering. “There is no more safety in the White Tower to act, it must be from the outside.”

The air stilled.

Even the creak of the ship seemed to quiet as everyone slowly turned to her.

“We will remain in an inn, on the edge of the city. Discreet. I will send word to Saerel - a friend of mine from the Green Ajah. She will inform the Amyrlin Seat of what has occurred. If the Hall is convened, as I suspect it will be, there will be a formal judgment. A reckoning.”

Her words hung heavy in the air like the tension before a summer storm.

“Liandrin,” Egwene said softly, but it wasn’t a question. Her lips barely moved. Her eyes were far away, unfocused, staring into a memory.

Nynaeve’s gaze darted to her. Concern flickered across her face; anger quickly following.

“If the Amyrlin calls for judgment,” Nynaeve said suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence, “then I will go to the White Tower. I will tell them what she did. What Liandrin allowed to happen. What she orchestrated.”

Egwene reached out, her hand barely brushing Nynaeve’s sleeve. “No… Nynaeve. You don’t have to—”

“I will.” Nynaeve’s voice was firm, eyes blazing with fury and something deeper—protectiveness. “You won’t stop me. I won’t let her get away with what she did to us. What she let happen to you, Egwene.”

Egwene’s breath caught. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears she refused to let fall.

Elyndria felt a pang in her chest, watching her friend shrink slightly under the weight of that terrible memory.

Moiraine watched them both in measured silence. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, but there was no mistaking the sharp awareness in her eyes.

“If the Hall is called,” Moiraine said evenly, “your testimony will be vital. But it will place you in danger. Liandrin is no ordinary Aes Sedai. If she is Black Ajah, as we suspect, then she is not alone.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Nynaeve said fiercely.

Lan’s gaze shifted to her from across the table. His expression remained unreadable, but Elyndria saw it; his eyes darkened with quiet pride… and a shadow of worry.

Moiraine gave a slight nod, as though she had expected this. “Very well. But we act carefully. We do not reveal our presence in Tar Valon until the time is right. And if you are to testify, it will be under protection.”

“Will they believe us?” Perrin asked suddenly, his voice gravelly. “The Tower? About Liandrin?”

“They’ll have to,” Rand muttered, his jaw tight. “We’ve seen what she’s done.”

“They’ll try to deny it,” Mat added with a bitter twist of his lips. “Aes Sedai don’t like to admit rot in their own walls.”

“They will listen,” Moiraine said, her tone sharp enough to cut through doubt. “They must. The Shadow is no longer creeping. It is moving in the open. We will not let it fester.” Moiraine turned her calm gaze toward Rand, her words slow and deliberate.

“After the Hall is called, I would like us to go to the Stone of Tear.” A few glances shifted toward her, surprise flickering in some eyes—anticipation in others. “Callandor,” she continued, “the Sword That Is Not a Sword, lies within. A sa'angreal… and not just any sa'angreal, but one of great power—perhaps the most powerful known to exist in this Age. It amplifies the One Power, and—it could also be possible the True Power as well.”

Rand stiffened at the mention of it. His fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table.

“It will be a great weapon,” Moiraine said, her voice unwavering. “One we will need. The Forsaken move more openly now. The Shadow’s reach grows longer by the day. With Callandor in your hands, we will have a chance at victory.”

Rand’s jaw worked slowly as he looked down at his half-finished stew.

Elyndria could feel the shift in him beside her, the tension crackling in the way he sat more rigidly, in the haunted glance he cast toward the horizon.

“If it’s so powerful,” Rand said at last, voice low, “wouldn’t the Forsaken expect me to go there? They’ve likely planned for it. It could be a trap.”

“Yes,” Moiraine said simply.

Her admission sent a ripple of unease around the table. Egwene’s brows knit together, and Elayne’s lips parted slightly, but neither spoke. Perrin leaned forward, silent but watchful.

Mat let out a dry laugh. “Wonderful. Walk right into the lion’s mouth with a banner waving.”

Moiraine opened her mouth to speak again, but before the words could escape, Aviendha leaned forward, her posture straight and eyes alight with fierce purpose.

Her voice, though calm, was edged with something more primal—urgency, and belief.

“He should not go to Tear,” she said, cutting cleanly across the discussion. All eyes turned toward her. “Rand should go to the Aiel Waste." The silence that followed was immediate. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. “To speak with the Wise Ones,” she continued, gaze never leaving Rand. “If what we believe is true—if the dreams and omens are right—then you are the Car’a’carn. The one who comes with the dawn. You are prophesied to unite our people. Lead us. That is a destiny that belongs to no one else.”

Moiraine's lips pressed into a thin line, her calmness never cracking, though Elyndria noticed the subtle tension that settled over her. She did not speak, but she did not look swayed.

Rand blinked. “And how will they even know I’m the Car’a’carn?” he asked warily.

Aviendha shrugged with quiet certainty. “There are trials. You will have to go through them. The Wise Ones will see. If you are truly him, it will be proven. And when it is, you will not stand alone.” Her eyes burned with conviction. “You will have the might of the Aiel beside you.”

Rand looked daunted at the thought—his posture tense, his breath shallow. The burden of yet another prophecy, another title, seemed to weigh visibly on his shoulders.

Elyndria reached out beneath the table, placing a gentle hand on his thigh. She gave it a reassuring squeeze, grounding him. His shoulders eased just slightly at her touch, and he glanced sideways at her with a flicker of gratitude in his tired eyes.

A moment of quiet passed, broken only by the faint clink of a spoon in someone’s bowl.

Then Perrin spoke up, hesitant but firm.

“Loial and I… we won’t be staying long in Tar Valon.” Surprise rippled through the group. Rand turned sharply toward him, and Egwene’s brows lifted in confusion. “When I was captured by the Whitecloaks,” Perrin continued, voice low, “I heard things about the Two Rivers. That there were… threats.” He hesitated. “Shadowspawn. And other forces. Something’s wrong. I want to go back. Help them.”

Horror dawned in Egwene’s expression first, then in Nynaeve’s. Rand’s hands clenched in his lap. The thought of their peaceful home, invaded, violated, hung in the air like ash from a fire.

“We should come too—” Egwene began, but Perrin cut her off gently.

“No,” he said. “It’s better if Loial and I go alone. You and Nynaeve will be needed after the trial. The Tower will call for you. And Rand…” He glanced toward his friend. “Your path is… bigger than the Two Rivers now. You can’t risk drawing attention to it. If the Forsaken find you there—” He didn’t need to finish.

Egwene opened her mouth to argue again but then slumped, understanding. Her expression was laced with sorrow and guilt. Nynaeve didn’t look any less frustrated, but she nodded once, grudgingly. Rand looked like he wanted to protest too, but he met Perrin’s gaze and something passed between them. An unspoken trust. A promise.

Mat cleared his throat. “Maybe I’ll stay at the White Tower for a bit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My memories… they’re still cloudy. From before I picked up that bloody dagger in Shadar Logoth.” His voice was quieter than usual, touched with a rare vulnerability. “It’s hard remembering things from my life back home. Nynaeve said maybe the Yellow Ajah could help.”

Moiraine’s eyes shifted to Mat, sharp and appraising.

For a moment she said nothing, then gave a single slow nod. “The Yellow Ajah are very skilled in healing,” she said. “Of the body—and the spirit. You may find more than just your memories with them.”

Mat gave a lopsided grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s hope they don’t try to stuff me full of herbs and boil me like a stew.”

Loial chuckled softly, and the momentary levity gave everyone a breath to ease the weight of the conversation. Still, the air felt charged with choices yet to come. Roads were dividing between them—destinies stretching out like threads of the Pattern being pulled taut.

Moiraine finally stood, her cloak brushing against the wood of the deck as she looked over them all. “We will arrive in Tar Valon within days. Whatever paths lie ahead, we must walk them with open eyes—and hearts ready to bear the cost.”

The lanterns above flickered in the wind, casting shifting shadows over their faces.

Change was coming.

And none of them would walk through it unchanged.

The night had deepened, and the sounds of the ship gently creaking under the moonlit sky were the only company left. The others had retired to the sleeping quarters, leaving Rand and Elyndria alone on the deck.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, one that felt natural despite the weight of everything they had been through.

The moonlight bathed the deck in silver, casting long shadows and making the water below shimmer. Rand stood by the edge of the ship, staring out at the horizon, his posture relaxed but his gaze distant, as if trying to make sense of the vastness before him.

Elyndria leaned against the railing nearby, her arms loosely folded, watching him.

She had seen him like this often, caught between moments of strength and vulnerability, and tonight was no different.

There was something about the quiet that allowed them to breathe, just for a while, without the burden of the world pressing down on them.

Slowly, she stepped closer to him, the soft rustle of her skirts barely audible. When she reached his side, she stood there for a moment, just watching him. She didn’t speak right away, giving him space, letting him gather his thoughts, or perhaps, letting him avoid them for just a while longer.

He didn’t turn to face her right away, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.

“Do you ever wonder,” he started quietly, his voice low, almost to himself, “if this... all of this... is worth it? The journey, the fight, the people I have to leave behind, the things I have to do?”

Elyndria’s heart tightened at the question.

It was something she had asked herself too, many times over, in the quiet moments when the world around them felt like too much. But Rand needed to ask it aloud, needed someone to hear it, and she could be that person.

“I think,” she began softly, “we all wonder that sometimes. It’s easy to feel lost when there are so many paths to choose, so many consequences to every step we take.”

Rand’s gaze finally shifted to her, his expression one of raw vulnerability, something he didn’t often allow to show. “I don’t even know what the future holds anymore. I don’t know if I’m even strong enough for what’s coming.”

Elyndria reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm. The touch was comforting, warm, grounding.

“You are stronger than you give yourself credit for,” she said, her voice steady and filled with quiet certainty. “Even when you don’t believe it, you are stronger than you think.”

Rand met her gaze, his eyes searching, as if looking for something to hold onto, something to help him make sense of everything.

“I don’t feel strong,” he confessed, the words heavy with emotion. “I feel lost, like I’m being pulled in a thousand different directions, and I don’t know how to stay true to myself in the midst of it all.”

Elyndria stepped closer, her presence a steady warmth beside him.

“I understand. It’s hard, isn’t it? Feeling like everything is slipping through your fingers. But, Rand...” She paused, searching for the right words. “You’re not alone. Even when the others must go down their own paths, even when the world seems too big, too overwhelming... I’ll be here.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and she watched as he absorbed them. He was quiet, taking in the weight of her promise. She could see it in his eyes—the flicker of hope, the brief moment of peace that spread across his features.

“And Moiraine and Lan,” Elyndria added, her voice soft but firm. “They’re with you too. You have a friends here, Rand. And you’re not going to face any of this alone.”

Rand exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping just a little as if he’d been holding in the tension for far too long. “I know. I just... it feels like the weight of the world is on me, and I don’t know if I can bear it.”

“You don’t have to bear it alone,” Elyndria repeated. “You won’t. And when you feel like you can’t keep going, when you’re not sure of anything, I’ll be right here beside you.”

There was a long silence between them then, a quiet stillness that seemed to speak volumes.

Rand’s gaze never left hers, and for a moment, all the noise of the world faded away.

“I don’t know if I’m worthy of you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words were heavy with meaning.

Elyndria’s heart swelled. She reached up, her fingers gently brushing against his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath her fingertips.

“You don’t have to be worthy of me,” she whispered back, her voice soft, but unwavering. “You already are. Just by being you.”

His eyes softened at that, the weight on his shoulders seeming to ease ever so slightly. He leaned into her touch, his breath slow, steady.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” Rand said, his voice a bit steadier now. “But with you by my side, maybe I can find my way through it.”

Elyndria smiled, her heart beating faster now, not just from the words, but from the warmth that radiated between them, a connection that had been growing stronger with each passing day. She squeezed his arm again, gently, before stepping closer.

“You don’t have to know the future,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his forehead in a soft kiss. “You just have to know that you don’t have to face it alone.”

His hands rose, ghosting along her waist before settling at her hips. She felt his fingers curl slightly, grounding himself in her presence, like her nearness was a tether pulling him back from spiraling.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted, the words catching in his throat. “Of what I’ll become. Of losing who I am.”

“You won’t,” she promised, drawing him just a little closer, until the heat of his body radiated into hers. 

Rand’s breath hitched — not from fear, but from something gentler. He leaned into her touch, eyes flickering with something unspoken before his lips parted as though to speak.

But no words came.

Instead, he closed the last bit of distance between them, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that trembled at first — tentative, uncertain. Elyndria responded with softness, easing the tension in his jaw with the slow glide of her lips, letting the world dissolve in the shared warmth between them.

The kiss deepened gradually, building from quiet reassurance into something fuller, more fervent. His hands found the curve of her lower back, drawing her flush against him, and she felt the strength beneath his uncertainty — the power in him, not just of the One Power, but of his humanity.

Elyndria’s arms slid around his neck, fingers threading through the soft curls at his nape, anchoring herself to him as they moved together, breath and pulse entwined.

His mouth left hers for a heartbeat, trailing kisses along her jaw, her neck; reverent, hungry, like each brush of lips against her skin was a question and an answer all at once. He pulled her gently down with him to the deck, the cool wood beneath them barely registering as their bodies pressed together.

Moonlight cast silver lines across his bare forearms as he braced himself above her, his gaze searching her face.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice hoarse, eyes shadowed with tenderness and restraint.

Elyndria nodded, her fingers brushing his cheek before pulling him down to her again. “Yes,” she whispered. “Stay with me. Just for this moment — just us.”

And so he did.

Their kisses turned slower, deeper, laden with every unspoken thought and promise.

His hands explored her with reverence, sliding over her waist, her thighs, memorizing every breath, every soft sound she made. Elyndria arched into him, the sensation of being seen, being wanted not for her powers or duty, but simply as herself, grounding her in a way the Power never could.

Clothes loosened, shifted, forgotten in quiet urgency. Skin met skin — warm, electric, a balm to the ache in their chests. They moved together with growing intensity, exploring and claiming one another in the hush of the night, their breaths mingling like the rise and fall of the tide beneath the ship.

When it finally crested — that moment where time stilled and hearts beat as one — Rand pressed his forehead against hers, both of them breathless, their bodies tangled and trembling with release.

“I see you,” she whispered, brushing the hair that had been beginning to grow back as he blinked down at her, his chest still rising with ragged breaths. “Not the Dragon. Not the prophecy. Just you.”

Rand swallowed hard and pulled her closer still, tucking her beneath his chin as they lay together under the stars.

“Then maybe… maybe I can face whatever’s coming.”

Elyndria smiled softly, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.

“You can. And you will. I’ll be right beside you.”

And for a little while, there was no future, no fate, only the quiet rhythm of the sea, and two souls finding solace in each other’s arms.

 

Chapter 23: Mutual bond

Elyndria's nightmare was vivid, a tormenting swirl of heat and horror.

She ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the acrid scent of smoke stinging her nostrils as flames licked the walls around her. The hallway stretched on forever, but she couldn’t escape it.

The bodies of the dead lay scattered across the floor, their faces frozen in terror, their once-living eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. She didn’t dare look too closely at them as she sprinted past, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

She reached the door at the end of the hall, her fingers fumbling as she tried to open it. The wood was hot to the touch, and her hands slipped on the handle as panic clawed at her throat. She couldn’t breathe; her chest tight with fear as the world around her spun out of control.

She was close.

The door wasn’t locked—please, just open.

With a sudden swing, the door burst open on its own, a cold gust of air hitting her face like a slap. But it wasn’t relief that met her gaze when she stepped inside the room.

There, in the center of the room, stood a man, dark-skinned and silent. His back was to her, his posture tense, as though the weight of the world had been placed upon him. His hands were covered in blood, dripping slowly to the floor, pooling around his feet.

Elyndria’s eyes were drawn to what he was looking at an object in the room, something she couldn’t quite see. The closer she got, the more her body trembled, a scream rising in her chest as she tried to look down at what lay at his feet.

The scream clawed its way up her throat, but just as she opened her mouth, her vision blurred, and—

Elyndria jerked awake, her body lurching as though she’d been yanked from the abyss. Her skin was slick with sweat, her chest heaving with heavy, erratic breaths. Her hands trembled as she wiped her face, feeling the salty trails of tears across her skin.

What was that?

It took her several long moments before her breathing began to slow, and the pounding in her chest lessened. She blinked, clearing the haze of fear from her mind, and turned her head.

The room was dark, the soft rise and fall of her companions' breathing filling the space. Egwene lay beside her, unaware of the turmoil Elyndria had just experienced. The others were still asleep, their forms curled in peaceful slumber.

Elyndria gently pushed the blankets aside, careful not to disturb her friend, and slid out of bed. She stood, her legs slightly unsteady, the remnants of fear still tightening her muscles as she moved through the room. The coolness of the ship's wooden floor was a relief against her heated skin.

As she crept silently through the hallway, the low sounds of the ship’s creaking filled the air. She moved toward the deck, the cold night air greeting her like an old friend, and she let it wash over her, grounding her.

The sky above was still dark, the stars twinkling faintly in the deep blue. Dawn would come soon, but for now, the quiet of the world outside was the only thing that felt real.

She stepped to the front of the ship, leaning against the railing as the cool breeze ruffled her hair. The ocean stretched out endlessly before her, its vastness a stark contrast to the confined space of her nightmare.

Her thoughts lingered on the dream.

Why do I keep having it?

It felt as if it were calling to her, a warning, or perhaps a burden—one she couldn’t escape. The sensation of helplessness in the dream was suffocating, as though she was running from something or someone, something she couldn’t see.

A feeling of foreboding gripped her chest as she tried to shake off the memory of the bloodied man and the unspeakable thing he was staring at.

But it was the feeling of worry that lingered the most, a persistent unease that gnawed at her even now.

Her hands twitched at her sides, the familiar pulse of saidar flowing within her. It was like an itch under her skin, a force that demanded release. The dream, the fear—it had stirred her power.

Perhaps it was a defense, she thought.

A way for my power to protect me, to push through the fear. She couldn’t quite explain it, but the link between her emotions and the weave of saidar felt undeniable. She closed her eyes and let the feeling grow, the pulse of saidar surging inside her like the tide.

Slowly, she began to channel, her hands lifting gracefully as she called on the One Power. It was a delicate, fluid process, the weavings unfurling like intricate threads in the night air.

The flows she wove were slow at first, hesitant, but with each passing moment, the power became more familiar, the complexity of the work more beautiful. There was no urgency to her motions, no stiffness in her approach—just the rhythmic, flowing grace of a well-constructed weave, expanding into the air above her.

The threads of saidar danced around her like a starry halo, light shimmering in the cool darkness of the early morning.

She focused, letting the tension in her chest ease away with each carefully woven strand. The heavy weight of her anxiety from the dream began to dissolve as she lost herself in the work.

There was something freeing about this, something completely different from the rigid, structured lessons she had been taught in the White Tower.

No one was watching. She didn’t need to perform.

She could simply be with the Power, releasing the energy with a relaxed fluidity that felt right, that felt hers. The soft, shimmering lights above her swirled and pulsed in the air, the elegant pattern of saidar bending in perfect harmony to her will.

It was like the world around her slowed as the weave took shape—each thread a reflection of her own desires, her own self, unfurling with such freedom, she almost laughed aloud.

The fear from the dream seemed so far away now, as though it belonged to someone else. The sense of control, of inner peace, filled her as she continued to channel. The cold air, the hum of the ship, the vastness of the night sky—everything seemed to fall into place, like a gentle reminder that there was still so much more to discover, so much more to do.

Elyndria released the weave slowly, feeling the last of the tension leave her body as the threads of light vanished into the dark, taking with them the weight she had carried in her chest. She stared out across the dark waters, the slow rhythm of the ship’s movement beneath her feet grounding her in the present though only barely.

Her weaves still shimmered faintly in the sky, the last threads of light dissolving into the early morning air, when the quiet sound of footsteps reached her ears.

She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“I know we weren’t supposed to channel on the ship but—” she began, already forming her apology.

“It was beautiful,” Moiraine interrupted gently.

Elyndria turned to look at her, surprise flitting across her face. Of all the responses she expected, that had not been one.

Moiraine stepped closer, arms loosely crossed, her expression unreadable but soft.

“Your weaves,” she said. “So different from the structure we were taught in the Tower. Yours… they danced. Fluid, deliberate, but eccentric. They followed no rule I could name, yet they harmonized all the same.”

A flush rose to Elyndria’s cheeks, and she looked down.

“It’s nice,” she admitted quietly, “to weave without being told what thread to lay and when. I…” she hesitated, then gave a small smile. “I’ve done it since I was a novice, when no one was watching. Creating, playing. It calms me.”

Moiraine made a thoughtful sound as she stepped nearer, the wind catching the edges of her cloak. “And did you need to be calmed?”

Elyndria’s expression dimmed.

She glanced down at her hands, then out over the sea again. The moon was beginning to fade, the horizon tinged with the barest brush of pink.

“I’ve spoken of my visions before,” she said finally, her voice low, “the ones I saw in the Waygate. Back when we were in Fal Dara.” Her breath caught for a moment. “But they’ve… changed. Or maybe it’s me who has. Ever since we passed through that Waygate, the one that led us to Fal Dara… I’ve been having nightmares. The same one, over and over.”

Moiraine said nothing, only watched her with a patient, careful expression.

“I’m in a burning building,” Elyndria continued, her voice shaking. “There are people—dead—in the halls. People I feel like I should know. I’m running, always running, and there’s this… this feeling pressing down on me. Like a weight on my chest, like I can’t breathe. I’m not scared for myself. I don’t think I ever am. But I’m terrified. For something else. Or someone.” She paused, pressing a hand to her chest as her voice cracked. “I keep running. There’s a door, and I get to it. I open it. And inside is a man… dark skin… his hands are covered in blood. He’s looking down at something. I try to see what it is and then—then I wake up. Right before I scream.”

Moiraine frowned thoughtfully, stepping closer still, the light from the sky catching the silver at her temples.

“Dreams can be strange,” she said softly. “Sometimes they reflect things we want or fear. Sometimes they’re nothing more than the mind’s wandering. But there are dreams… that try to tell us truths we’re not yet ready to accept.”

Elyndria sighed in frustration, her brows drawing together. “But mine make no sense. I dream about a place I’ve never seen. And yet, I know it. I’ve walked those halls. It doesn’t feel like a memory from my life before I came to the Tower. It feels like more. Like something just out of reach—but close. So close I could almost touch it.”

Moiraine crossed her arms, her expression suddenly more guarded, more intent. She took a moment before speaking.

“There is something I have been considering,” she said. “I heard what Lanfear said to you in the Waygate. ‘You look different, yet the soul is the same.’ It’s been troubling me since.”

Elyndria looked over, her eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity. “And?”

Moiraine hesitated. “The Wheel of Time is a force that spins the lives of all people into the Pattern. It weaves souls into new lives over and over again, in different times and places. We are reborn to fulfill our place in the Pattern. Most don’t remember their past lives. It is rare. But…”

“But I do,” Elyndria finished for her, licking her dry lips. “Or…you I think I do.”

Moiraine nodded. “It is possible that something about the Waygate—that Waygate—unlocked pieces of your soul. Memories that were never meant to surface. If Lanfear recognized you, your soul, then perhaps you lived in the Age of Legends. Perhaps you knew her. Or Lews Therin. Or others.”

Elyndria gulped, her hands tightening on the railing.

“Not as a friend of Lanfear,” she said quickly. “She despises me. I felt it. Every time she looked at me…it was hatred.”

Moiraine chuckled softly. “No, I do not believe you were friends.”

Elyndria exhaled slowly. “This feeling I get in the dream… it’s like falling. Like being pulled into something I can’t stop. I don’t want to remember, Moiraine.”

“I know,” the Blue Aes Sedai said gently. “But perhaps your soul is trying to make you. Perhaps there’s something in that past that you need now. And if Lanfear knows you… perhaps Rand does, too.”

Elyndria blinked, startled. “Rand?”

Moiraine nodded. “He might be able to ask her.”

There was a beat of silence before Elyndria’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Ask her? What do you mean?”

Moiraine sighed and rolled her eyes, though the gesture lacked true annoyance. “She has been visiting his dreams since Falme. Trying to lure him. Pull him away from us. She wants him to go to Tear as well, without any of us of course.”

Elyndria’s mouth parted slightly. “He… he didn’t tell me.”

“No?” Moiraine’s brow lifted. “I thought you knew.”

Elyndria shook her head slowly, looking away, her heart stinging at the thought. “I thought she stopped. He never said—he did not say anything.”

Moiraine’s expression softened with something like sympathy, though discomfort lingered in her eyes. “Perhaps he meant to protect you.”

Elyndria didn’t respond right away.

Her hands tightened on the railing, the chill air biting at her skin. She closed her eyes, trying to steady the emotions stirring within her—confusion, worry, and something far more vulnerable.

What else isn’t he telling me?

Moiraine watched her in silence for a moment before finally speaking, her voice low and steady. “You are strong, Elyndria. Stronger than even you know. Whatever these dreams mean… whatever truth lies in them… you’ll face it, in time. And you won’t be alone.”

Elyndria nodded faintly, not trusting her voice to answer.

The sky was turning slowly, streaks of gold and violet painting the horizon. Morning was near.

And with it, more questions.

Elyndria turned away, her jaw clenched tight, the salt wind stinging at her eyes more than it should have. She wasn’t sure if it was the cold breeze or the sudden twist in her chest that made it hard to breathe.

Her thoughts tangled like unruly threads, none willing to be pulled straight.

He didn’t tell me.

Her eyes found the horizon, the sky just beginning to bleed indigo along the edges, as if the night itself were reluctant to let go.

A shiver ran through her—not from the cold, but from something deeper. Something sharp.

Moiraine stayed silent, watching her. Elyndria could feel it, the weight of her gaze pressing against her back.

But she didn’t turn around.

“I thought he trusted me,” she finally said, her voice quiet, strangled. “After everything we’ve been through. After Falme. I thought he would tell me something like that." She swallowed hard. The bitterness in her mouth was stronger than any seawater. It was hurt, pure and unadulterated, mixing with confusion.

Moiraine stepped beside her, leaning against the railing.

“I don’t think he meant to hurt you. Rand is... trying to carry too much on his own. He’s afraid. He’s being pulled in too many directions. And Lanfear—” Her tone darkened. “—she’s skilled at manipulation. She’s trying to sow doubt in him. He likely doesn’t speak of it because he’s ashamed. Or afraid of what it might mean.”

“She’s in his dreams.” Elyndria’s hands gripped the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Every night? Just there... whispering to him? What is she saying? What lies is she feeding him while he sleeps?” Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked away.

She couldn’t bear the thought of it—Lanfear, with her cold beauty and serpent smile, sinking into Rand’s thoughts when he was most vulnerable. She could almost hear her voice, smooth as silk and just as binding.

You don’t need them. They will never understand you. Only I can.

Elyndria shut her eyes tightly, as if that would block the images out. But they bloomed behind her lids like bruises.

“She told him to go to Tear,” Moiraine said quietly. “She’s playing a long game, drawing him toward Callandor. Perhaps hoping to control him through it. We can’t be sure. But we must be careful. All of us.”

Elyndria’s voice was hoarse. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”

Moiraine didn’t flinch. “I thought he had. I believed he would tell you before anyone else.”

Elyndria laughed, bitter and hollow, “Well I suppose we were both wrong in the assumption that he would tell me these type of things.”

The two of them stood there for a long moment, silence stretching between them like fine thread—taut, fragile.

Then Elyndria turned to look back at the sky. The first edge of dawn was beginning to crest over the horizon, a soft golden glow brushing against the dark waves. The moment felt suspended—between night and day, between certainty and doubt.

"Do you think I’m losing myself?” she asked, not looking at Moiraine. “These dreams, these memories... if they even are memories. I feel like I’m unraveling, and I don’t know where the thread leads.”

Moiraine’s voice was quiet but sure. “You are not unraveling. The Wheel is simply revealing more of the pattern. Of who you are meant to be. And yes... it may be someone you were before. But it will also be someone you choose to become now.”

Elyndria let out a long, trembling breath. “I don’t know if I’ll ever ready for this,” she said.

“You are,” Moiraine answered without hesitation. “You just don’t know it yet.”

They stood there as the dawn broke slowly across the sea, the light casting a faint halo over the ship's deck.

Elyndria didn’t feel peace, not yet. But something inside her settled just enough to breathe again. And deep inside, under the layers of fear and uncertainty, her saidar still shimmered, waiting.

The sun had finally broken free of the horizon, casting gold and rose across the sea as the merchant ship cut through the waves. The light was bright, too bright after the shadowed thoughts Elyndria had wrestled with all morning. She hadn’t gone back to bed—sleep was the last thing she wanted.

Instead, she’d sat tucked behind a crate on the lower deck, knees drawn to her chest, trying to calm the storm swirling inside her.

She had barely spoken when the others rose. Even Egwene had given her a wary glance, sensing something was off but choosing not to ask. Elyndria was grateful. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to answer.

But now Rand was alone.

He stood near the stern, one hand braced against the railing, the sea wind tousling his reddish-gold hair. He was watching the waves. Elyndria couldn’t see his face, but his posture was stiff—tense in a way she recognized too well.

Her feet moved before she made the decision.

She walked quietly across the deck, every step measured. When she stopped beside him, he didn’t turn.

“Rand,” she said softly.

He glanced at her, eyes tired. Shadows clung to the edges of them, faint bruises of sleepless nights. “Morning.”

There was a pause. The space between them felt... too wide, though only a few inches separated them. She hesitated, then said it plainly. “I know about Lanfear.”

Rand’s body stiffened. His grip on the railing tightened until the knuckles showed white.

For a long moment, he didn’t respond.

Then his voice came out low and guarded. “Moiraine told you.”

“She didn’t mean to. It just… came out.” Elyndria’s tone wasn’t angry. Just quiet. Hurt.

He looked away again, eyes fixed on some distant point where sea met sky. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You didn’t want to worry me?” she echoed, a bitter laugh slipping from her lips. “She’s invading your dreams, Rand. Trying to manipulate you. And you thought the right thing to do was to not tell me?”

His jaw clenched. “What would you have done, Elyndria? Woken me up every night? Worried over me when we can’t afford distractions?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Yes, I would have! Because I care! Because I thought you trusted me enough to not shut me out.”

He finally turned to face her. The ache in his eyes mirrored her own, though his was buried under a layer of guilt and fear. “I do trust you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked at the end, trembling despite her effort to stay strong.

He took a step closer. “Because I’m afraid. Because every time I close my eyes, she’s there. Telling me things I don’t want to hear. Showing me things I’m scared might be true. And if I told you... you’d look at me like I’m already lost.”

Elyndria’s breath caught. “Light, Rand... I would never think that. You’re not lost. You’re not alone in this—”

“Aren’t I?” he said bitterly. “Everyone sees me as the Dragon Reborn now. A symbol. A weapon. Even Moiraine. I see it in her eyes. And I see it in yours, sometimes.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he said, voice softer now. “It’s not. But it’s how it feels.”

Silence fell between them again, the wind whistling gently past. Elyndria looked down at her hands.

“I’ve been having dreams too,” she whispered. “Nightmares, like the ones I had in Foregate. About the burning buildings and people dying. It was only here and there but lately they’ve been happening more.”

Rand blinked, caught off guard. “You never said anything.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Because I didn’t want to worry you.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them.

Their eyes met then and something unspoken passed between them. Shared pain. Shared fear. And something more: the aching thread that tied them together, stretched thin but unbroken.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she said, voice trembling. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore. But I do know that whatever happens... I don’t want to lose you, Rand.”

He reached out, hesitated, then gently took her hand. “You won’t.”

She swallowed hard, the knot in her throat loosening only slightly. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” he said. “As long as I can still choose... I’ll choose you.”

The wind carried the words away, but their meaning stayed. And for a moment the storm inside both of them quieted.

Elyndria didn’t let go of his hand. Not yet. She could feel the heat of his skin — his fingers calloused and rough from sword training, but his grip was gentle, like he was afraid she might vanish if he held too tight.

They stood there for a time, the waves rolling beneath them, the sky warming with dawn. Neither spoke, but the silence was no longer heavy. It was a space where they could breathe. Where truth might come easier.

Finally, Rand exhaled and let his gaze drop to the worn planks of the ship’s deck.

“She started coming after Falme,” he said quietly. “At first, I thought it was just a trick of my mind — a nightmare, or something the madness was bringing with it. But it was her.” Elyndria’s grip tightened slightly, a wordless show of support. “She’d be there when I slept. Always watching. At first she didn’t speak. Just... smiled. Like she was waiting for something. Then she started talking. About the past. About us.” His voice faltered at the word, bitter and disbelieving. “About how we were meant to rule together. That everything else was a lie. That the world didn’t need saving — just reshaping.”

Elyndria felt a chill creep down her spine. The way he said us, the way Lanfear must have said it, made her stomach twist.

“I tried to shut her out,” Rand continued, shaking his head. “Tried to block her, to not listen. But it’s hard. Dreams are… strange now. They don’t always feel like mine. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m sleeping or awake. And she knows things, Elyndria. Things about the Age of Legends. About Lews Therin. About me. Things that make me wonder... if I’ve already walked this path before and failed.”

Elyndria stepped closer, her other hand rising instinctively to his chest, fingers splayed just over his heart.

“You’re not Lews Therin,” she said fiercely. “You are Rand. Even if your soul once belonged to him, you are not him now.”

He looked down at her, eyes glassy with exhaustion and something deeper — fear, maybe. Shame.

“She said you were there, too,” he murmured. Elyndria froze. Rand’s lips parted, hesitant. “Not by name. Not clearly. Just... hints. That your soul was familiar. That it’s always been near mine. That you stood between her and Lews Therin in the past, and she hates you for it. That even now, you’re in the way.”

She felt like the deck dropped beneath her feet.

“I don’t remember anything,” Elyndria whispered. “But sometimes it feels like I’m supposed to. The dreams I’ve been having, the places I see…it’s like something trapped beneath ice, just out of reach. Like I’m living two lives and one of them keeps bleeding through.”

Rand looked pained. “I didn’t tell you any of this because I was afraid that if I said it aloud, it would make it real. That if I told you what she said, you’d start to believe it — that your fate was already written. Like mine.”

She shook her head, eyes glistening. “We always have a choice. The Wheel may spin the threads, but we decide how we live them.”

He gave a sad, lopsided smile. “You always say things like that.”

“Because I have to believe them.”

There was a long beat where neither of them spoke.

Then Rand finally said it — the truth that had sat heavy on his chest for too long.

“I’m scared, Elyndria.” Her breath caught. “I’m scared that I will lose myself. That the taint on saidin will take me. That the prophecies are already written, and I don’t get to choose how this ends. That I’ll hurt the people I love.” He looked away, ashamed. “That I’ll hurt you.”

Elyndria reached up and touched his cheek, guiding his face back toward hers.

“Then don’t push me away,” she whispered. “Don’t carry this alone. If you fall, I fall with you. Do you understand?”

His eyes searched hers, something flickering in them — hope, maybe. Or desperation. Or both.

He nodded once, slowly. “I understand.”

And in that moment, there were no titles. No prophecies. No Dragon, no dreams. Just Rand. And Elyndria. Two souls caught in the weave, clinging to each other before the storm to come.

Rand’s hands lingered in hers, the weight of his fears laid bare between them. Elyndria could feel the warmth of him even through the rising chill of the morning breeze.

She hesitated, the words forming slowly, as if her heart needed to speak them first before her tongue could shape them.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” she said quietly, not letting go of his hand. “For a while now.”

Rand tilted his head slightly, watching her. “What is it?”

She looked out toward the sea. It shimmered faintly in the early light, the waves gentle but vast, like the Pattern itself — endless, unknowable.

Her voice was almost a whisper when she spoke again.

“The Warder bond.”

Rand stilled.

She looked down at their joined hands, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand.

“It was something I never thought I’d want. Not as a novice. Not as an Accepted. The idea of tying myself to someone like that... it always felt too much. Too vulnerable. Like I’d lose part of myself.” She looked up at him, her eyes clear, searching. “But lately... I’ve been wondering. What it would be like if it was you.”

Rand didn’t speak, but his breath caught slightly. Not from surprise, but from the weight of what she was saying.

“I’m not asking to be your protector,” Elyndria continued. “Light knows you can take care of yourself. And I’m not asking you to be mine. But this... this bond... it could be more than protection. It could be a promise.” She stepped closer, so there was barely any space between them, her voice softer now. “To carry each other’s burdens. To know when the other is hurting. To never be truly alone.”

Rand’s eyes were full of so many things; wonder, fear, tenderness, longing.

“A mutual bond,” he said slowly.

She nodded. “Equal. Both of us choosing. Not because of duty. Not because of prophecy. But because we trust each other. Because we need each other. I want to bond with you. Not as Aes Sedai to Warder. As equals. Mutual. A shared thread. I’ve read about it — rare, but possible. Two souls woven together, bound by trust, by choice.”

Rand looked at her, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. “You’d do that?” he said, voice hoarse. “For me?”

“For us,” she corrected softly. “Because I think... I think the Wheel has tied us together in ways even it doesn’t fully understand. I feel it when I’m near you. Like I’ve known you before this life. And if I’m going to walk beside you through whatever comes next, I want to do it completely. Open. Connected.”

His hand rose to cup her cheek, rough thumb brushing away a stray tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Are you sure?” he asked gently. “This... would tie us together in ways neither of us can undo. You’d feel everything I feel. Even the madness, if it comes to that.”

“I already feel it,” she said, voice trembling. “When you’re in pain. When you’re scared. When you pull away from me. I feel it even without the bond.”

Rand’s eyes shone with emotion, his own throat tightening. “And you’d share your dreams with me? That weight you carry…. I would feel it too.”

“I want you to,” she whispered. “I don’t want to walk this path alone anymore. And I don’t want you to either.”

He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “Then I’ll accept it. Freely. No oaths, no ceremonies. Just us.”

Elyndria took a breath and reached inside herself, drawing on the warmth of saidar. It flowed into her gently; not with force, but with purpose.

Her weaves were delicate, radiant, like threads of sunlight catching the early dawn. They shimmered between them, forming a slender bridge of light as she shaped the weave for the bond.

But instead of directing it into Rand, she paused, holding the weave steady — waiting.

Rand reached deep, and though his access to saidin felt raw, dangerous, it bent to his will with control. His weaves felt more rougher, more jagged — but somehow, when they met hers, they fit. Like storm and sun merging into balance. Their threads wove together, equal, forming a single bond between them.

The moment it snapped into place, Elyndria gasped.

The bond settled between them like a thread of gold, warm and vibrant, humming softly at the edge of Elyndria’s awareness. She stood still for a long moment, her breath shallow, as the magic that bound them quieted into something deeper.

Steady. Present. Eternal.

Then she felt him.

Not just the way she had before — through intuition — but a tangible presence in her chest, like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers, echoing beside her own.

Rand.

It was a rush at first, as if the floodgates of his soul had been opened. Her breath shuddered softly as his emotions poured through — not fully formed, not overwhelming, but there. A quiet storm of weariness, sorrow, determination... and then something that felt like awe. Wonder. Relief.

Across from her, Rand’s shoulders lifted with a deep breath. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he, too, adjusted to the new sensation.

“Light,” he murmured. “You feel like... sunlight. Warm. Steady. Like I’ve been walking in the dark and didn’t even realize it until now.” Elyndria’s heart clenched. He’s so tired, she realized. Beneath all the layers of duty and control, there was an exhaustion so vast it nearly broke her.

She reached across the bond, not with words, but with feeling; a silent offering of calm, of strength, of presence.

I’m here.

Rand’s eyes opened slowly, shining in the soft dawn light.

“I can feel you,” he said in wonder. “Even when you’re not touching me. It’s like... like you’re holding me up from inside.”

Elyndria smiled, though her throat ached.

“You are never alone now,” she whispered. “Not ever again.”

Then it came — not a word, but a pulse. A ripple across the bond like a whisper on water. A wave of affection from him, shy but fierce. It made her chest tighten, her breath catch. She’d never felt anything so intimate, not even when wrapped in someone’s arms. This was soul-deep.

Her hand found his without thinking, their fingers lacing together.

“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” Rand said quietly. Elyndria smiled, slow and soft, and whispered back, “It feels right.”

It was overwhelming. It was perfect. Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the space between. The first light of dawn broke over the horizon.

And they stood there, bound not by the Tower, not by prophecy, but by choice — two souls spun into the Pattern, finding each other again in this turning of the Wheel.

---

 

The sun was high in the sky by the time Moiraine confronted them.

Elyndria had felt it coming. Moiraine’s simmering disapproval had been pulsing at the edge of her awareness since morning, each glance sharper than usual, her silences heavy with words unsaid.

Rand felt it too.

She could tell by the way his jaw stayed tight, his eyes flicking toward Moiraine more than once. He was readying himself for the storm. It came on the deck, away from their friends and ship crew, the Blue Aes Sedai stepping between them and the others with the graceful force of a closing door.

“Come with me,” Moiraine said, voice low and clipped.

She led them to a quiet corner behind the stairwell, where the wind snapped the sails above their heads, but the air around them turned suddenly still. She turned, her eyes blazing. “What have you done?”

Rand and Elyndria exchanged a glance, both hesitating. The bond between them pulsed with shared tension, unease and resolve wrapped tightly together.

It was Rand who answered first.

“We bonded,” he said evenly. “We made the decision together.”

Moiraine sucked in a sharp breath, her hand rising to her temple as if trying to rub the implications away.

“Light, you—” She cut herself off and turned her back on them, pacing a few steps before she turned again, her expression fierce. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Elyndria stepped forward. “Moiraine—”

“No,” Moiraine snapped, voice like steel. “This is not some fleeting dalliance, Elyndria. This is a mutual bond. Between the Dragon Reborn and a Sister of the Tower. Do you understand the political chaos this could cause?”

“It feels right,” Elyndria said firmly. Her voice trembled slightly, but only from emotion, not doubt. “It’s beautiful. It's not about power, or politics. It’s about us. This connection—” She touched her chest lightly, where she still felt the gentle hum of Rand — “It’s not something I regret. And I don’t think I ever will.”

Moiraine stared at her for a long moment.

Then she turned her gaze on Rand. “You must understand what this means for the Tower,” she said slowly. “They will see this as an act of rebellion. As defiance. A weapon. And Elyndria—” she looked back at her, eyes softening just a fraction, “they may try to use you now. To threaten him. Or worse.”

A sharp flare of fury rushed through the bond. Elyndria felt it before she saw the tightness in Rand’s jaw, the steel in his posture.

“They will not touch her,” he said, voice like a blade. “I will burn the Tower to the ground before they lay a hand on her.”

Elyndria’s breath caught. He meant it. Every word of it. His protectiveness wrapped around her like a cloak, fierce and unyielding.

And she—Light, she didn’t flinch from it. She welcomed it. She could feel his fear, too, though. Buried beneath his rage. The thought of losing her... it terrified him.

Moiraine exhaled heavily, rubbing her temple again. “You don’t understand. This bond may feel beautiful now—but others will see chains. Weapons. Loyalties shifting. I will not tell the Tower. I swear it. But you must hide this. Discreetly. There are Aes Sedai in the White Tower who will not take kindly to discovering what’s been done.”

“We’ll be careful,” Elyndria said softly. “I swear it.”

Moiraine looked between them. “The bond... it glows. To those who can see it. Those who aren’t strong in the One Power won’t be able to sense it. But those who are strong….highly trained Aes Sedai, the forsaken……” Her eyes flicked between their linked hands. “You must learn to dampen it. Shield it, if you can. At least mask your emotions from each other when others are watching.”

“How?” Rand asked, brows drawing together.

“I will teach you,” Moiraine said. “It is difficult, and it will take discipline. But if we are to survive what lies ahead, you must not draw attention to yourselves.” She looked at them both again, and something softened in her then—an emotion she rarely showed. Worry. “I will try my best to keep you both safe. But you must listen and follow my teaching”

Elyndria reached out and touched Moiraine’s arm lightly.

“We know,” she said gently. “And we are grateful that you will try to help us. But this... we’re in it now. Together.”

Moiraine gave a terse nod, but her lips pressed tightly together.

“I hope the Pattern agrees with your decision,” she muttered, turning and walking away.

Elyndria and Rand stood in silence as the wind tugged at their cloaks. After a moment, Elyndria leaned slightly into Rand’s side, eyes fixed on the sea.

“Do you regret it?”

He turned toward her, fingers brushing hers again.

“Not even for a breath,” he said quietly.

The bond pulsed between them. Steady. Strong. And despite the warning, the danger, and the growing tension ahead —

Elyndria smiled.

She didn’t regret it either.

---

The sun was lower in the sky when Moiraine found them again.

She said nothing at first, simply motioned for them to follow her down into the quiet belly of the ship, past sleeping crew and stacked crates of silk and dried herbs.

They entered a small, unused storage cabin with barely enough space for three people to sit. The walls groaned faintly with the roll of the waves, but the silence between them was heavier still.

“This will do,” Moiraine said, closing the door behind them. She turned to face Rand and Elyndria with the expression of a teacher about to deliver difficult lessons.

“Now. Sit.”

They obeyed, crossing their legs on the floor, knees nearly touching. Elyndria’s heart thumped as she settled across from Rand, aware of every flicker of his emotions. The tension in his shoulders. The faint trace of concern. The undercurrent of affection that never quite went away.

The bond pulsed, alive with presence. Always there. Warm. Protective. Deeply personal.

“You need to learn to muffle it,” Moiraine said, lowering herself onto a crate. “Not break it—Light, not that—but conceal it. Cloak the emotional current of it from being felt by others who can see or sense such things.”

Rand looked puzzled. “How?”

Moiraine lifted a hand. “It’s not unlike shielding your own emotions, Rand. Or controlling the flow of saidin when it threatens to overwhelm. Elyndria, you’ve shielded before. You know what it is to cover the Source from others. This is similar but you must reach inward instead of outward.”

Elyndria closed her eyes, focusing on the bond. It shimmered in her mind’s eye like a river of light threading between them with warmth and intensity, their feelings gently weaving back and forth like intertwined currents.

She had never truly looked at it before. Not like this. But now it stood out clearly. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat. And his.

“I can feel him,” she whispered. “Everything. Not just surface thoughts. The deep things, too. When he’s worried. When he’s trying to hide that he’s afraid.”

She felt Rand tense slightly. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t mind,” she added. “It’s just... intimate.”

“I know,” Rand murmured. “It’s like breathing in someone else’s air.”

Moiraine’s voice cut in softly. “Good. That awareness is the first step. Now—try to imagine wrapping it in something. Like a veil. Or a shadow. Think of it as a light you must hide. Not extinguish. Just... dim.”

Elyndria exhaled slowly. She closed her eyes again. In her mind, the bond burned brightly. Too brightly. She imagined laying a soft cloth over it—no, a shimmer of Spirit. Threads of Air to contain the movement, Spirit to mask the glow. Not to cut it off from herself, but to shield it from others.

She let her weaves float gently toward the cord that bound them. Her breathing slowed.

“I think... I can do it,” she whispered.

Rand shifted. “I can still feel you.”

“I’m not hiding it from you,” she said with a smile. “Just... muffling the echo.”

Rand looked to Moiraine. “What about me? Can I do the same?”

“Yes,” Moiraine said. “But for you, it may be harder. Saidin is forceful, unyielding. But the Void will help you. Draw in the flame. Imagine the bond as a physical thing. Cloak it. Seal it. Not with brute strength, but with control.”

Rand nodded, closing his eyes.

Elyndria could feel him pulling away slightly—no, not away from her. Just inward. His presence dimmed, faintly veiled now, though still there, like a heartbeat behind a wall. And in that moment, Elyndria felt a new kind of connection. Subtle. Intentional. Respectful.

Moiraine exhaled, standing slowly.

“Good,” she said. “That will be enough for now. Keep practicing. In time, you will be able to mask yourselves without effort. But the Tower... the Tower would feel it the moment you enter the same room with stronger Aes Sedai.”

Elyndria stood slowly, brushing her hands on her tunic. “And if they do?”

Moiraine looked at them both, eyes steady. “Then you’d best be prepared to lie convincingly.”

Elyndria and Rand looked at each other.

No words were needed. The bond between them pulsed once—slow and strong.

---

 

The stars hung low and clear in the sky that night, the waters around the ship calm, reflecting fragments of starlight like shards of polished glass. Most of the others were asleep below deck, wrapped in blankets and the steady creak of the ship’s hull. But Rand and Elyndria found themselves awake—drawn to the stillness of the deck, to each other.

They stood at the edge of the railing, not quite touching. The dampened bond pulsed between them like the faint beat of a distant drum—muted but ever present. Elyndria rested her hands on the wooden rail, her eyes cast out toward the endless sea.

Rand leaned against the rail beside her, arms folded.

Neither of them spoke for a while. They didn’t need to. But eventually, Elyndria let out a soft sigh, “You feel so far,” she said quietly.

Rand turned to look at her. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the water. “But… the bond feels like it’s behind a wall now. I didn’t realize how comforting it was until we dulled it.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I feel it too. Like something warm is missing.”

They stood there in the hush of it. Elyndria’s fingers brushed the edge of the railing absently, her thoughts scattered, her heart full. The night had grown colder, the wind sharper—but she didn’t move.

“I didn’t think I’d ever do something like this,” she admitted. “Bond someone. I always thought the idea of being… connected to another person like that, without space, without walls, would suffocate me.”

Rand’s eyes were soft in the moonlight. “But you don’t feel that way now?”

She looked up at him slowly. “No. Not with you.”

The words lingered between them.

Honest. Vulnerable.

Rand’s throat worked as he swallowed, his voice low. “When you suggested the bond… I thought you might regret it. Later. After the rush of it faded.”

“I don’t.” She faced him fully now. The starlight played along her cheekbones, and there was a trembling in her voice that had nothing to do with the cold. “I’ve never trusted anyone the way I trust you, Rand. And maybe that should scare me, but it doesn’t. When I felt that bond settle, when I felt you settle into me—it was like my soul sighed in relief.”

Rand’s breath hitched, his expression unreadable. But she could feel it. The overwhelming emotion just beneath the surface. He didn’t need to say anything—she already felt the way his heart clenched, the way her words rooted into him like seeds in soft earth.

“I feel the same,” he said hoarsely. “It’s terrifying. And it’s perfect.”

Elyndria hesitated, then reached for him.

Just a hand on his chest at first—over where she could feel his heartbeat through the bond, faint but there. Then he stepped closer, his arms sliding around her waist, pulling her gently into his warmth. They stood there for a long time, locked in silence and soft starlight, the weight of their worries paused for a single, rare breath of peace.

The bond pulsed again—stronger now, more vibrant. Not masked entirely anymore. Just… dimmed for the world, but never from each other.

“Whatever happens next,” Elyndria whispered, “we face it together.”

Rand nodded against her hair. “Always.”

And for that one night, in that quiet place between sea and stars, they were not the Dragon Reborn and the Green Aes Sedai. They were just Rand and Elyndria. Two people with hearts too full, standing on the edge of something they were still learning how to name.

 

Chapter 24: The Trial

The next few days seemed to blur together as Rand and Elyndria hid away in small rooms on the ship, practicing the intricacies of their bond, shielding it from prying eyes.

They’d become more adept at hiding it, but with each passing day, they grew a deeper understanding of the bond’s complexities—the way their emotions and thoughts could brush against one another, even in silence. It was more than just a connection; it was an intricate dance, a silent language only they truly understood.

When they weren’t practicing, they spent time with the others, their quiet moments becoming all the more precious as the group’s inevitable separation loomed closer.

There was a subtle shift in the air, a sense of something drawing them together more tightly.

Though the tension of their mission weighed heavily on everyone, the bond of friendship grew stronger. They knew their paths would soon diverge—some would remain in Tar Valon, while others would continue their quests—but for now, they clung to one another as if the mere presence of the group was enough to ward off the uncertainty ahead.

As the days passed, the proximity to Tar Valon became undeniable. Elyndria found herself gazing toward the horizon, watching the land gradually approach.

The white spires of Tar Valon began to rise in the distance, ghostlike in the pale morning mist. From the bow of the ship, Elyndria could just make out the Tower’s silhouette—sharp, unyielding, and luminous in the golden wash of dawn. The clouds parted slowly above the horizon, sunlight catching the Tower’s uppermost ring like a blade.

Despite the serenity of the scene, a quiet tension simmered beneath her skin. The moment felt too still, too fragile—as if even the Tower itself might shudder under the weight of what was to come.

Footsteps stirred behind her—soft, sleepy, unhurried. The others were beginning to rise. Loial appeared first, humming some deep-throated Ogier tune as he ambled forward, blinking at the city skyline with wonder in his wide eyes. Nynaeve followed, already muttering curses under her breath as she adjusted her cloak and scowled at the fog.

“The damp ruins my braid every time,” she snapped to no one in particular.

Mat and Perrin came up together, yawning and joking in low voices. Mat’s laugh cut the morning stillness—but Perrin’s face changed the moment he saw the distant spires. His steps slowed. The jokes faded. His dark eyes turned thoughtful. The Aiel joined them silently, taking positions at the bow, their faces unreadable. Their distrust of the city hung thick around them like a storm cloud.

Yet they said nothing, only watched.

Egwene stepped up beside Elyndria, brushing windblown hair from her face. Her voice was hushed.

“We’re almost there.”

“Yes,” Elyndria murmured, her gaze fixed on the Tower. “It’s strange being back. I haven’t been in Tar Valon in nearly a year. It’s the longest I’ve ever been away.”

“Does it seem any different to you now? Coming back, I mean” Egwene asked.

Elyndria hummed, shrugging slightly. “It feels odd. It looks the same but the way I feel about it……it’s not how I used to view Tar Valon or the White Tower back then. It’s changed now.”

Before Egwene could ask more, Moiraine appeared behind them, her blue cloak drawn tightly around her, face calm but alert. Her eyes swept over the group, pausing on Lan and Rand—who stood together in quiet conversation.

Though the bond between Rand and Elyndria was shielded now, she could still feel the thread of him inside her. The bond pulsed like a heartbeat—subtle, grounding.

It had become a constant in her life. And now, as they neared the Tower, she found herself clinging to it more than ever.

They didn’t dock at the city’s main harbor.

Under Moiraine’s instruction, the ship slipped into a lesser-used port tucked into Tar Valon’s outskirts. Here, the docks were smaller, the crowd thinner. Trade workers moved quietly between boats and carts. The air smelled of salt and woodsmoke.

The Tower still loomed in the distance, massive and gleaming. But from this angle—from this shadowed edge of the city—it seemed less like a sanctuary and more like a sentinel.

“This way,” Moiraine said, her voice low as she pulled her hood over her head. “There’s an inn not far. Quiet. Neutral ground.”

The streets here were narrow, lined with simple stone buildings. Shops and tea houses Elyndria half-remembered passed by in a blur. There was something wrong about seeing them again, as if childhood dreams had been dulled by adult eyes. She remembered walking these streets as a novice, full of hope and ambition.

Now her steps were guarded. Her eyes flicked to every corner.

The city felt different.

They came at last to a squat stone building, ivy curling along its sides and shutters faded to gray-blue. A worn wooden sign creaked gently in the wind: The Wayfarer’s Rest. Loial ducked low to enter, nearly taking out the lintel beam with his head. The inn’s common room was dim but clean, warmed by a crackling hearth.

A woman behind the bar glanced up, pausing mid-polish.

Moiraine stepped forward. “We need rooms. No names. We pay in coin.”

The woman studied the group with a sharp, assessing look, lingering briefly on the Aiel and on Loial before she nodded once. “Six rooms. No questions.”

Upstairs, the rooms were small but comfortable, the kind of place meant for travelers too tired to care about luxury. Moiraine claimed her own room, as did Lan.

The Aiel shared a large chamber down the hall, while Egwene, Elayne, and Nynaeve took another. Loial, Perrin, and Mat crammed into the last one at the far end. Rand and Elyndria were given a modest room with a window that overlooked a quiet alley.

Once the door clicked shut behind them, Elyndria exhaled slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. Her arms wrapped around herself, not from the cold but from the pressure building inside her.

Through the bond, she felt Rand’s quiet strength—a bracing calm, a readiness. Not fear, but steel being drawn slowly against a whetstone.

“It’s strange,” she said softly, eyes on the floorboards. “Being this close to the place I once called home… and feeling like I need to run from it.”

Rand didn’t answer right away. He crossed the room and knelt beside her, his presence warm at her side.

“It’s not your home anymore,” he said at last. “Not really.”

She nodded. “No. It isn’t.”

They sat in silence, the hum of the bond pulsing low and steady between them. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting it anchor her.

Outside, the city stirred with early morning life. Inside, they waited—for what would come next. For the Tower to notice. For the truths they could no longer hide. But for now, in this small space far from the Tower’s gaze, they were safe.

Just for now.

---

It didn’t take them long to settle into their new room before Elyndria and Rand were in the midst of another quiet practice session.

They only stopped when a knock sounded throughout their room gaining their attention from connecting though their bond.

Rand stood up and went to open the door leaving Elyndria by the bed. When Moiraine entered, her expression was as impassive as ever, but Elyndria noticed the brief flicker of something—an edge of concern, maybe?

She wasn't sure.

“I’ll be leaving soon,” Moiraine said, her voice steady. “Lan and I have business to attend to—a meeting with Saerel to inform her of what happened in Fal Dara. We’ll be discussing Liandrin’s betrayal. The Black Ajah.”

Elyndria’s heart skipped, a chill running down her spine. The Black Ajah—she still couldn’t believe the shadow had made their way into the White Tower. But Moiraine’s tone brooked no argument. The weight of that knowledge settled heavily in the room.

“You two will stay here,” Moiraine continued, her gaze briefly flicking to the bed and the small room, but she said nothing of their closeness. “Don’t leave the inn. It’s for your own safety. Don’t let anyone see you. Tar Valon’s eyes are everywhere now.” She paused at the door, her eyes lingering on them for a moment longer. “I trust you will be cautious.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and left them in the quiet of the room, leaving only a sense of unease in her wake.

Elyndria turned toward Rand, who was watching her with a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes gleamed mischievously, and she raised an eyebrow, suspicion rising within her.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Rand grinned wider, taking a step toward her. Without warning, he reached out, gently but firmly pushing her back onto the bed.

She gasped slightly in surprise as she fell onto the soft mattress, but before she could protest, Rand was hovering over her, his arms propped on either side of her.

“I certainly don’t mind staying in,” he said with a grin that promised more than just idle words. “The first proper privacy we’ve had in a month without worrying someone might walk in on us.”

Elyndria hummed in agreement, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. She ran a hand through his growing hair, the strands now longer and curling just slightly. She smiled softly, her fingers lingering at the red locks that had returned during their travels.  

“I missed this,” she murmured, almost to herself. “It did make me miss our room in the inn at Foregate. I missed sleeping beside you.”

Rand’s lips softened into a smile, and he leaned in closer, his lips grazing her cheek, tracing a gentle path across her skin. His breath was warm against her ear as he spoke softly, “The Dark One himself would have to pull me away from sharing this bed with you.”

Elyndria’s heart swelled at the tenderness in his voice, at the feeling of his closeness, of the raw connection that had only grown since they had shared that bond.

They had both fought hard to keep their distance from each other, but moments like this—quiet, intimate, and entirely their own—reminded her that no matter what came next, they would face it together.

She closed her eyes, letting herself relax into him, savoring the rare peace they had found.

“I think we’ve earned this moment,” she whispered, feeling his heartbeat close to hers.

Rand chuckled, his arms tightening around her as he lay beside her on the bed. “I’d say we’ve earned more than just a moment.”

And for once, in the quiet of that small room in the inn, with the world waiting just outside, Elyndria couldn’t agree more. They had earned this—each other, this bond, this fragile, beautiful time before everything would change again.

As the quiet of the room enveloped them, Rand’s breath deepened, his lips tracing a line from Elyndria’s cheek to her jaw, gentle but insistent, as though savoring the feeling of her skin beneath his lips. Elyndria’s pulse quickened, a heat blooming inside her at the touch, at the way his hands moved carefully, reverently, as though he feared she might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

Their connection, the bond between them, pulsed softly—like the beating of a heart shared between them both.

Elyndria could feel every thread of it, every flicker of his desire and hesitation, his warmth mixing with hers. She had never felt more attuned to him than in this moment, as if the space between them had vanished entirely.

Elyndria raised her hands, threading her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer as her lips met his, the kiss slow and lingering. It deepened almost instantly, and Rand responded with a quiet urgency, his hands tracing the curve of her back, pulling her flush against him. Every movement was carefully measured, every touch soft, as though they were testing boundaries they had only recently discovered.

Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them rising, and Elyndria felt her breath catch as she slowly pulled away, looking up into Rand’s eyes. The connection between them—more than the bond, more than any words spoken—was palpable in the way they fit together, as though they were made for this moment, for this closeness.

The bond hummed in the background, amplifying every emotion, every sensation, every thought.

“I’ve wanted this for so long since that night on the deck of the ship,” Elyndria whispered, her voice catching in the rawness of the moment.

Rand’s lips brushed against her forehead, tender and affectionate.

“I know,” he replied softly, his voice almost rough with emotion. “So have I.”

His hand moved slowly, skimming along her side, sending a shiver down her spine, before resting on her waist, pulling her even closer. Elyndria could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her palm, and in that moment, all the uncertainty of the past months—the fighting, the secrets, the danger—seemed distant, irrelevant.

She kissed him again, more fiercely this time, her hands moving lower as the bond between them pulsed with raw emotion, the lines between them blurring further. The kiss deepened, the air between them thick with desire and an unspoken promise.

And for a moment, the world outside the room—the looming threat of Tar Valon, the secrets and politics they carried—vanished entirely, leaving only the two of them in that quiet, intimate space, sharing something more than just a physical connection.

They were sharing a part of themselves that went deeper than words, deeper than the bond itself. As Rand’s lips moved from her mouth to her neck, Elyndria’s body arched toward him instinctively, a quiet gasp escaping her. Everything inside her seemed to come alive in that moment, every nerve, every inch of her skin craving more.

Rand’s touch was gentle but firm, as if trying to make up for lost time, as though he wanted to pour all of his emotions into this moment, this fragile connection.

Elyndria leaned into him, her hands trailing down his chest, feeling the muscles under his tunic, the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. Everything felt real now—every touch, every whisper, every breath. She could feel him, all of him, as though they were no longer two separate people, but a single being, locked in the space between the bond and the world outside.

Her breath came quicker as he kissed her again, deeper, more urgently now. She responded in kind, her hands slipping under his tunic, urging him closer, until there was no distance between them at all.

In that quiet room, with the world outside their door, they found something more—something that was theirs and theirs alone. And for the first time in a long while, Elyndria allowed herself to believe that, no matter what came next, they would face it together, bound by something far more unbreakable than the challenges ahead.

Their connection wasn’t just the bond—it was the trust, the love, and the certainty that no matter the distance or the danger, they would always find each other again.

---

 

After the quiet intimacy of their shared moments in their room, Elyndria and Rand descended to the common room, where the rest of the group had gathered.

The warmth from the hearth flickered against the stone walls, casting dancing shadows around the room. A fire crackled lowly, its steady hiss a comfortable backdrop to the quiet murmurs of the group.

Even the Aiel, who had been keeping to themselves for the journey, had relaxed. Bain and Chiad were seated across from Perrin and Loial, engaged in a deep conversation about the roads ahead, while Aviendha, to Elyndria's amusement, was seated beside Elayne, her eyes occasionally trailing over the other woman’s face with a subtle intensity.

Elyndria couldn’t help but notice the gleam of curiosity in the Aiel woman’s gaze, something that hinted at more than simple observation. The quiet interest was unmistakable, and Elyndria caught it with a half-smile, watching the unspoken energy pass between the two.

The conversation in the room paused when Moiraine and Lan returned, their presence as quiet and deliberate as always. They exchanged a brief but meaningful glance before taking their place near the fire.

Elyndria felt a wave of unease ripple through her as Moiraine began to speak.

“We’ve spoken with Saerel,” Moiraine began, her voice low but clear enough to be heard by everyone in the room.

“She now knows of Liandrin's betrayal and of Ishamael’s death at Rand’s hands in Falme.” She paused, the gravity of her words settling in the room. “Saerel will take this to the Amyrlin Seat. Now, we must wait for her judgment.” Elyndria exchanged a look with Rand, her hand subtly brushing his. Despite the calm in Moiraine's voice, she could feel the tension rising.

“If it goes to plan then there will be a meeting among the Aes Sedai,” Moiraine continued, “to judge Liandrin and what she has done by aligning herself with the Dark One. It is not a matter that will be taken lightly.”

Her eyes flicked over to Nynaeve, who had been listening intently.

“Good,” Nynaeve muttered, her voice harsh. “She deserves everything that comes to her. I’ll go if they need my testimony of what happened.”

Moiraine nodded. “Yes, your testimony will be valuable. The more evidence, the better.”

Lan spoke then, his voice quieter, but the weight of his words not lost on anyone. “Even with all the evidence, we’ll have to be cautious. The disconnect within the Tower is far too great. There are forces at play that we cannot see. We’ll be watching from a distance, regardless of the outcome.”

Elyndria’s brow furrowed slightly at Lan’s words. There was something in his tone—something subtle, but unmistakably serious—that raised her concern. She glanced around the room, noting that the others were all listening closely, but none spoke immediately.

“What do you mean?” Elayne asked, her voice sharp with curiosity. “What could happen in a trial? I thought only the higher Aes Sedai could sit in the Hall during those times. The strongest, and the smartest of the fractions.”

Moiraine’s gaze softened for a moment, and then she nodded, acknowledging Elayne's question.

“Yes, Elayne, that’s true. But we don’t know how far Liandrin’s influence stretches. I would not be surprised if there are Aes Sedai in that Hall who do not try to intervene, or worse, who actively protect her. We cannot trust everything in the Tower." Moiraine turned to Nynaeve with a steady, serious gaze. “You must leave if this happens, Nynaeve. Aes Sedai can be... unpredictable when they’re upset. If the trial turns against us, I don’t want you to be in harm’s way.”

Elyndria watched the conversation unfold with quiet attention, her gaze drifting between Moiraine, Lan, and the others.

The weight of the decision they were all facing was palpable, yet none of them seemed willing to let it break them. She felt the bond between her and Rand, pulsing gently, steadying her in ways words could not.

Still, the tension in the room pressed down on her, thick and heavy, as everyone came to terms with the choices that had been made.

Egwene’s voice cut through the stillness that had settled over the group, shaky but determined.

“I’ll go too,” she said, her words steadying as she spoke. “If it’s dangerous, I don’t want Nynaeve to be by herself. We’ve been through too much together. I won’t leave her to face it alone.”

Elayne nodded, her expression firm. “I agree. We were all taken. We all suffered. Perhaps we should all go.” Her gaze flickered from Moiraine to Nynaeve, the weight of her words hanging in the air. “We should stand together.”

But Moiraine, her expression unreadable, shook her head, silencing any further suggestions.

“No,” she said, her tone firm yet not unkind. “Only one person. And Nynaeve has selected it to be her.” She met Nynaeve’s eyes as she spoke, a silent acknowledgment of the choice that had been made.

Nynaeve, sitting quietly among them, nodded solemnly, the weight of her decision clear in her eyes. There was no doubt in Elyndria’s mind that Nynaeve was the right choice. She had the fire, the conviction, and the understanding of the Tower’s betrayal to give her testimony with an intensity that would make it impossible for anyone to ignore.

There was no one better suited to stand before the Amyrlin Seat and speak the truth than Nynaeve.

Moiraine turned to the others, her voice steady but resolute. “I agree with Nynaeve’s choice,” she continued.

“Nynaeve did not go through what you did, Egwene. Her emotions will be stronger, and that will be better for the trial. Liandrin will use any hesitation at her disposal. If there’s even a moment of weakness, she will exploit it. And Elayne, you are the Daughter-Heir of Andor. The Amyrlin Seat will not allow you into the Hall. It is too dangerous for you to be involved.” Moiraine added, her voice softening but remaining firm. “The White Tower cannot afford to put you in harm’s way without consequences. Your family will make sure of that. It is a risk that cannot be taken. There is also rules we must follow. Egwene and Elayne do not have the accepted ring, only Nynaeve. Those who do not have it cannot enter the hall during a trial.”

Elayne’s lips pressed together, and she sat back in her chair, though her gaze never wavered.

“I understand,” she said quietly, her voice edged with reluctance. “But I wish I could be there.”

“I know,” Moiraine replied, her eyes filled with something unspoken. “But we must be pragmatic. We cannot afford distractions.”

The weight of their decisions hung heavy in the air, and the group fell into a contemplative silence. The possible trial of Liandrin was no small matter. What lay ahead was uncertain, and they would all be affected by it—whether they were there or not.

Elyndria looked at Rand, her eyes searching his for some sign of his own thoughts. His gaze met hers, calm but troubled. They had come so far, but with every step forward, the dangers seemed to multiply.

She could feel the bond between them tighten, a silent communication that was more comforting than words.

“So, what do we do now?” Perrin asked, breaking the silence, his voice a mix of concern and determination.

“We wait,” Moiraine said softly. “We wait for the Amrylin Seat’s judgment when she learns what happened. After that Saerel will come back and tell what is to happen. And then we move, one step at a time.”

The quiet murmurs of the group resumed, but the weight of the decisions made would linger. For now, they could only prepare for the uncertainty that lay ahead. The night stretched on as the group lingered in the common room, speaking quietly to one another, trying to find comfort in the warmth of shared company.

Elyndria found herself speaking little, lost in her thoughts as the fire crackled and the others drifted off into their own quiet corners. The hum of conversation around her became a soft backdrop to the swirling thoughts in her mind. It wasn’t long before one by one, they all began to slip away to their rooms, the weight of the coming days pulling at their shoulders.

When the last of the voices faded, Rand and Elyndria found themselves walking back to their room.

She was exhausted, but her mind refused to settle, buzzing with the uncertainty of what lay ahead, with the visions in her dreams, with the responsibility of what they were all about to face.

The door clicked shut behind them, and for a moment, they simply stood there, the quiet of the room enveloping them.

Elyndria moved toward the bed, sitting down with a heavy sigh. Rand followed, his presence a steady anchor she could always rely on. But even his quiet comfort couldn’t silence the storm inside her. They both laid down in silence, the weight of their thoughts making sleep feel distant, unreachable.

After what felt like hours, Rand shifted beside her, his arm slipping around her waist as he pulled her closer. She felt the heat of him, the steadiness in his breath, but still, sleep did not come.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked quietly, his voice gentle, but filled with concern.

“Everything,” Elyndria murmured back, her voice strained. “It’s hard to concentrate on one thing when there are so many paths we have to focus on. It’s... tiring.”

Rand chuckled softly, his breath warm against her skin.

“Tell me about it. Even in my sleep, I can’t get away.” He paused for a moment, an edge of tiredness to his voice. “Lanfear is usually there, waiting. Always wanting to talk about me being the Dragon Reborn. Speaking in twisted sentences. Most of it can be confusing.”

Elyndria’s hands tightened around his arm as he spoke, a knot of jealousy and anger twisting in her chest. She hated that Lanfear could enter his dreams, that she could be anywhere near him, even in his sleep. The thought of it sent a hot, protective surge through her. Rand must have felt the change in her, because he leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly.

“I know you hate it. I do too,” he whispered. “But sometimes... sometimes I do learn things. Things that link back to my past before this life. It helps me understand who the Dragon was before I became it.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, though her mind was still on Lanfear.

“Has she spoken more about my soul, Rand? About my connection to the past?” Her voice was hesitant, as if afraid of the answer.

Rand shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly over her arm. “No. I try not to speak about you. It makes her angry, and then she just goes silent. It’s hard to get anything out of her when you’re mentioned.”

Elyndria took a deep breath, her mind racing. She hesitated before speaking again, but something inside her urged her to share, to release the tension she’d been holding onto.

“My dreams... they’re becoming clearer, slowly. I’m beginning to understand things more. I’m connecting the things I see in my dreams... I think I’m in a castle. A castle that I lived in, in the past. My home.” She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “And the man I see... I think maybe it could be Lews Therin.”

Rand’s hold on her tightened, a brief pulse of alarm flaring through their bond.

“You think you see Lews in your past life?” he asked, his voice low, sharp with the implication of what that could mean.

Elyndria nodded slowly.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “After you told me what Lanfear said... about me coming between her and Lews... I began to think, maybe the person I used to be was Ilyena.”

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

“His wife.”

Rand inhaled sharply, pulling away slightly as the words hung between them. The air around them seemed to grow heavy, and Elyndria could feel the tension radiating off him.

He didn’t speak right away, as if processing what she had said.

Then, almost in a rasp, he murmured, “Ilyena... he killed her. And their children. The taint on saidin...” His voice faltered, and he looked away, his expression tortured. “He couldn’t stop it, Elyndria. I—”

But before he could pull away further, Elyndria’s hands moved quickly, pulling him back to her, clutching him tightly. She didn’t want him to retreat, didn’t want him to bury this again, not when she could feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on him.

“I know the story, Rand,” she said softly, her voice trembling with understanding. “The Aes Sedai told us the story when I was a novice. Even then, it was painful for me to listen to. I used to cry, you know, listening to it.” She swallowed hard, pressing her face into his chest. “They thought I was just emotional. But now... now, knowing what I know... I understand.”

Rand held her tightly, his body stiff but unyielding, as though he were afraid to move. She could feel the roughness in his breath, the way his chest rose and fell beneath her. She wanted to comfort him, but she knew, deep down, that there was no easy way to erase the pain of his past.

They stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the weight of their shared history settled heavily between them. The world outside the room seemed far away—just the two of them, and the silence that held them in its quiet embrace.

Eventually, Rand spoke again, his voice barely a whisper.

“I won’t let you go through that. Not again. You won’t be Ilyena. Not in this life.” His words were both a promise and a plea.

"I've always felt it," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur, "A small tug, whenever you were near. Perhaps my soul realized who you had been, or perhaps... perhaps it was always meant to be. I didn’t feel it immediately, but I felt comfortable around you faster than I ever have with any other stranger. I connected with you so quickly... so easily."

Rand’s eyes softened as he listened, and she could see the understanding in them. There was a tenderness there that only he could offer, a warmth that enveloped her like the summer sun.

It was strange—this feeling of connection to him that had been so immediate, so natural. She had always believed in the idea of fate, but this felt more than fate. It felt like something written into the very fabric of the world, as though they had been entwined long before they had even met.

Rand let out a quiet breath and nodded.

“I felt the same way. There was something about you that intrigued me, made me curious. It’s why I spoke to you that day by the Waygate. I wanted to know who you were. And I never could have predicted... this. Us.”

He paused, his eyes searching hers as though looking for something, as though he needed to say what had been on his heart for so long.

"But know this, Elyndria," he said softly, his voice laced with a depth of sincerity that made her heart ache. "What I feel about you, our connection, my love for you… it’s not controlled by Lews Therin. I fell for you during those months we were together. From watching your hair fly in the breeze when the wind would hit it, to the small dimples you get in your cheeks when you smile too hard, to the way you cared about me while we traveled. I fell for you because of you. Not because I share the same soul as Lews Therin."

Elyndria inhaled shakily, trying to control the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She reached out and placed her hand gently on his jaw, her fingertips trembling as she traced the contours of his face, the man she had come to know so intimately.

“I love the man I see in front of me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Nothing else. Not the past. Not the soul that shares your body. Just you. Rand.”

Her words hung in the air between them, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

The truth of it was in their gaze, in the shared space of their bond, in the quiet comfort they found in each other’s presence.

Rand’s hand found hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he pulled it gently away from his jaw and held it against his chest.

“I love you, Elyndria,” he said softly, his voice steady but full of meaning. “And I will always love you, no matter what comes. It’s you I want, you and no one else.”

Elyndria closed her eyes, feeling her heart swell in her chest. For all the chaos that surrounded them, for all the dangers that loomed ahead, in this moment, with Rand’s warmth surrounding her, she could believe in something pure. She could believe in their love.

And for now, that was enough.

---

The morning light filtered softly through the small windows of the inn, casting a warm glow on the worn wooden floors. Elyndria stretched lazily, her muscles sore from the night before, and rolled over to find Rand still sleeping peacefully beside her.

His breathing was slow and steady, his face softened by the quiet of sleep. For a moment, she allowed herself to simply watch him, the steady rhythm of his breath a comfort in the midst of everything else.

Eventually, Rand stirred, blinking his eyes open. He met her gaze, his warm brown eyes filled with that familiar softness. A lazy smile crept onto his face as he reached for her, pulling her closer for a brief, quiet kiss.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

"Morning," Elyndria replied, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. She couldn’t help but smile, though there was a lingering weight in her chest. "We should probably get up. The others will be waiting for us."

Reluctantly, they both got up and dressed, moving through the motions with a quiet ease that had become second nature between them. They didn’t need words to communicate today; they were both too used to this rhythm by now. Soon enough, they made their way downstairs to the common room, where the rest of their group was already gathered.

Mat gave them a wide grin when they entered, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"I hope you two are well-rested," he teased, raising an eyebrow. "Moiraine and Lan left early. Something about Saerel being ready to meet with them."

The mention of Moiraine and Lan immediately shifted the air in the room, and Elyndria could feel the weight of the conversation hanging over them. The trial was coming. Liandrin’s fate was imminent, and none of them knew for certain how it would unfold.

Nynaeve, Egwene, and Elayne exchanged looks, their unease palpable.

“We’ll know more when they come back,” Nynaeve murmured, her voice tight with tension.

Perrin’s deep voice cut through the air, gaining everyone’s attention.

"Loial and I will be leaving tomorrow afternoon to head back to the Two Rivers," he said, his tone firm but filled with a kind of quiet resolve. "I want to see what’s happened while we’ve been gone."

Egwene’s eyes lit up at the news.

"We’ll have to give you a proper send-off then," she said, her voice a mixture of affection and sadness. "Perhaps a few games tonight and some drinks."

Mat immediately raised his glass with a grin, ever the opportunist.

"I certainly won’t say no to that," he said, causing a ripple of laughter to spread through the group.

It was moments like these, Elyndria thought, that made it all feel almost normal again, despite the turmoil they were facing.

The others began talking about the Two Rivers, sharing memories of home with a mix of fondness and nostalgia.

Elyndria could feel a pang in her chest as they spoke, the warmth of their words reminding her of the White Tower before everything began to fall apart. But it was Mat’s wistful smile that caught her attention. He was watching them with a lost expression, the memories of his past were still just out of reach. He had come so far, and yet, there was still so much he didn’t remember.

Elyndria glanced at him briefly, then turned her focus to Elayne. She was speaking more freely now, sharing her life in Andor, and Elyndria found herself intrigued by her words.

"So," she began, her voice warm and curious, "tell me more about Andor, about being Daughter-Heir."

Elayne smiled, a light flickering in her eyes as she spoke. "It’s not as glamorous as people make it out to be. My life has always been filled with lessons, with politics, and the expectations of being a future queen. But there’s beauty in Andor, in the people, in the land. It’s my home, no matter the responsibility that comes with it."

Elyndria nodded thoughtfully, understanding that responsibility well, though in a different form.

“I can understand that," she said. "It must be strange, knowing your future is already laid out for you."

Before Elayne could respond, the sound of the door creaking open cut through the conversation.

Everyone turned as Moiraine and Lan entered the room, the air instantly thickening with the weight of their presence. Lan was carrying a bag, and Moiraine’s face was unreadable, her expression the calm before the storm.

The group fell silent as Moiraine took her seat beside them. She wasted no time in speaking, her voice calm but carrying the weight of the news.

"Saerel met with us," she began, her words steady. "Liandrin’s trial will be today, in a few hours."

Rand’s eyebrows shot up; surprise evident on his face. "That’s pretty quick, isn’t it?"

Before Moiraine could respond, Elyndria spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. "It has to be. Liandrin has been gaining popularity in the Tower for years now. Giving her less time to plan anything is smart. It keeps her on her heels. The Amyrlin Seat is making sure this happens swiftly."

Moiraine nodded in agreement, a faint flicker of respect in her eyes for the Amyrlin’s decisive action. "Exactly."

Lan handed a bag to Nynaeve, his expression serious, and the group fell into a tense silence.

"Here," he said simply. "Your White Tower robes. You’ll need to wear them when you enter the Hall."

Nynaeve’s face scrunched up in displeasure as she took the bag.

"What’s this about?" she asked, her voice filled with resistance.

"You’re going to need to wear them to the trial," Moiraine answered softly but firmly. "I know you’re not happy about it, Nynaeve, but it’s necessary. The Hall of the Tower demands it."

There was a brief pause, but Nynaeve didn’t argue, though the frustration was evident on her face. Elyndria could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she held herself, but she knew Nynaeve—she would do what needed to be done, even if she didn’t like it.

The hours seemed to stretch on endlessly as the group passed the time in various ways. Some buried themselves in books, while others occupied themselves with dice games that sparked light-hearted laughter.

Conversations meandered between topics—memories of the Two Rivers, stories of travels, and idle musings.

Elyndria found herself drawn to Elayne, Loial, Aviendha, Bain, and Chiad as they spoke of their homes in the Aiel Waste. It was fascinating to Elyndria, hearing the stories of their harsh, beautiful land. She had always been taught little of the Aiel in the White Tower—only snippets here and there, always framed in a way that felt distant, cold.

But hearing it from those who had lived it, it took on a new depth. The Aiel had a connection to the land, a bond that Elyndria couldn’t help but envy. The women spoke of the mountains, the endless sun, and the deep culture that governed their lives. There was something about the way they spoke, a quiet pride that resonated through each word.

Aviendha’s voice held a certain strength as she described her people’s customs.

“In the Waste," she said, "we are bound by the ways of honor, even in the harshest of places. The land shapes us, and we shape it. It is not always an easy life, but it is a life we know."

Bain and Chiad nodded in agreement, their faces reflecting the same pride, the same connection to the traditions that ran deep in their veins.

"I’ve always been fascinated by how you all are," Elyndria said thoughtfully. "It sounds... different. But there’s something beautiful about the way the Aiel live."

Loial, his deep voice rumbling like a gentle wind, added, "It is indeed a different way of life then we know. But the Aiel are strong, resilient. And in their way, they are a part of something ancient."

Elyndria’s thoughts lingered on their words for a while, and when she looked up, she saw that the others were already beginning to gather their things in preparation for the trial.

The momentary escape from their looming responsibilities felt like it was slipping away.

A silence descended on the group as Moiraine, Lan, and Nynaeve rose to leave. Moiraine’s movements were measured, precise, and Lan’s watchful eyes scanned the room before he nodded once to the others. Nynaeve, however, looked hesitant for just a moment. But then, with a soft sigh, she walked over to where Egwene and Elayne stood.

Elayne pulled Nynaeve into a tight hug, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Be careful," she said. "We’ll be waiting for you."

Egwene embraced Nynaeve next, her arms wrapping around her with the same mixture of worry and care.

"We’ll be here when you return," she added, her voice thick with emotion.

Nynaeve nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her face was resolute, but the tension in her shoulders told Elyndria everything she needed to know. Nynaeve was worried, perhaps more than she let on, but there was no turning back now.

All three of them donned cloaks that concealed their faces and attire before leaving the inn, disappearing into the streets of the city with a quiet urgency that seemed to underscore the gravity of what was to come.

Egwene sat down beside Elyndria with a sigh, her fingers worrying the hem of her sleeve. Her eyes scanned the room once before settling on Elyndria. There was a nervous energy about her, she cleared her throat roughly, breaking the silence.

“You lived in the Tower, didn’t you?" Egwene asked, her voice quieter than usual. "Nynaeve mentioned you’d grown up there."

Elyndria nodded slowly, folding her hands in her lap as her eyes drifted toward the window.

"Yes. I was left on the steps of the White Tower when I was just a toddler. I don’t remember much of my life before that, only feelings… warmth, comfort, happiness." A small smile touched her lips at the vague memories. "The servants raised me in the Tower until I was twelve. That’s when I began to show signs—channeling without meaning to. That’s when the Aes Sedai took me in as a novice."

Egwene’s brows lifted. "You were a novice at twelve years old? Light, that’s so young. I couldn’t imagine doing what we did as novices… at that age."

Elyndria laughed softly, a dry and knowing sound. "It certainly wasn’t easy. The Novice Mistress gave me a mentor—Saerel. The same woman Moiraine and Lan went to meet today."

"Saerel?" Egwene leaned in, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "She’s a Green, right?"

Elyndria nodded. "A Green Ajah, yes. She and Moiraine have been friends since their novice days. Saerel trained me relentlessly. Every day, every hour was spent honing my abilities. I wasn’t allowed to attend regular classes until weeks later—until she was satisfied I wouldn’t burn myself out by accident."

Egwene hummed, her gaze thoughtful now. "That must have been lonely… growing up in the Tower like that."

Elyndria tilted her head, considering.

“I had people around me. Children of the servants to play with, others who came to the Tower for training. And the servants themselves took good care of me—they were my family, in their way." Her voice softened, almost wistful. "But… yes. I suppose I didn’t get to make the kinds of connections you did, growing up in the Two Rivers. I didn’t have the freedom of those choices. My path was shaped for me the moment I was left on those steps."

There was a pause, gentle and heavy with unspoken understanding. Egwene reached out and touched Elyndria’s hand lightly.

"I’m sorry," she said. "That sounds so different from anything I’ve ever known. But I’m glad we know you now. That you're here with us."

Elyndria smiled gently, her fingers tightening around Egwene’s for a moment. "I am too. Whatever road brought me here, I’m glad it did."

The two women sat in quiet companionship, the murmurs of the common room continuing around them, the flickering fire casting soft shadows across the walls.

The hours dragged by with slow, heavy weight. Time seemed to stall, each tick of the unseen clock adding to the tension that coiled tightly in Elyndria’s chest. She sat curled in a corner of the common room, listening to the soft conversations that floated around the space.

Mat, Rand, Egwene and Perrin had started a half-hearted dice game that fizzled out within an hour. Elayne was flipping distractedly through a book, though her eyes rarely moved across the page.

Aviendha, Bain, and Chiad spoke quietly with Loial, continuing to share tales of the Aiel Waste—stories that fascinated Elyndria, despite her frayed nerves. She chimed in with questions now and then, and the common room had briefly taken on a warm, campfire-like quality in contrast to the anxiety creeping through the rest of the inn.

But eventually the warmth faded, replaced by the steady thrum of worry.

Then came the door. It flew open with a bang, hitting the wall with a loud crack. Footsteps thundered against the wooden floor. Everyone surged to their feet.

Elyndria’s heart leapt to her throat.

Lan stumbled into the room, his face pale, jaw tight, his blue eyes wide with something more than urgency. Panic. His arms were wrapped around Nynaeve, half-carrying, half-dragging her limp form. Her eyes were open but hazy, unfocused, her body slack with shock.

“Light!” Egwene gasped and was the first to move, rushing forward to take Nynaeve from Lan’s arms. She guided her carefully into a chair, cupping her face. “Nynaeve, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Rand stepped up beside Lan, his voice firm but laced with fear.

“What happened?” he demanded. “What’s going on? Is she hurt?”

Lan breathed out, a ragged, shaking sound. “We were right… about there being more Black Ajah.” The room seemed to freeze as everyone stopped moving to stare at him. “They attacked during Liandrin’s trial,” Lan continued, his voice hollow. “Some of them were captured, but others… others managed to kill. Warders. Aes Sedai. It was chaos.”

Elyndria’s heart dropped like a stone. Her breath caught painfully in her throat.

“Who?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended as she stepped forward. “Who was hurt? Was Saerel—?”

“No,” Lan said quickly, shaking his head. “She fought back, strong as ever. She’s okay.”

A shaky breath of relief burst from Elyndria’s lips, and her eyes fluttered closed. She could almost see Saerel in her mind—stern and unbending, the way she stood like a stone in a storm. Of course she had held her ground.

But Lan wasn’t finished.

“Ihvon…” His voice cracked. He looked down, his jaw clenched, grief and fury written across his features. “He was killed. Struck down by one of the Black Ajah while fighting beside Maksim and Alanna. There were… there were many of them. From every Ajah. White, Blue, Brown, Red... even a Green.” His eyes darkened. “The Green… she killed her own Warders.”

Elyndria felt her knees give way and collapsed into a nearby chair, her hands covering her face. Her fingers trembled against her skin.

Light. She tried to picture it—Warders being cut down by the very Aes Sedai they were bonded to. The severing of that bond, the betrayal, the pain. And Ihvon… he had been bonded to Alanna and Maksim for years. Loyal. Brave. A quiet strength in every room he entered.

She couldn't fathom the silence that would now follow him.

“I couldn’t imagine…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Ihvon… Light. He’s been bonded to them for so long. It must’ve been—” She couldn’t finish.

Lan rubbed his face with one trembling hand, weariness and grief etched into the lines around his eyes.

“I have to go back,” he said, more to himself than to them. “I have to help the other Warders… and Moiraine." His gaze swept across the room, fierce and protective. “None of you are to leave the inn. Do you hear me? Do not go outside. Stay together.”

He didn’t wait for argument. With a swirl of his cloak, he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Silence fell over the common room.

A silence so deep it felt sacred. Elyndria kept her face in her hands, willing the tears not to fall. For Ihvon. For the Warders. For the chaos now unraveling within the Tower she had once called home.

And for what was still to come.

Egwene knelt beside Nynaeve, her voice soft but urgent, trying to draw her out of the fog.

“Nynaeve. Nynaeve, come on.” She gently touched her shoulder.

Nynaeve blinked slowly, her breath shaky as she lifted her gaze. Her eyes were glassy, haunted.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Egwene squeezed her hand.

“We should’ve been in the Hall with you. Me and Elayne.” Her voice cracked with emotion, anger flickering beneath her worry. “So, what if we don’t have the ring yet? These ridiculous Tower rules… We could’ve kept you safe.”

Nynaeve gave a hollow, bitter laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. But before she could speak, Perrin cut in from across the room, his voice low and grim.

“Safe’s not possible anymore.”

There was a heavy pause before Rand spoke, his arms crossed, shoulders tense.

“We were already running from the Forsaken,” he said quietly. “And now the Black Ajah. Who knows how many of them there are?”

Nynaeve’s gaze shifted toward him, and her lips parted. “So… what now?” she asked, the words barely audible.

Rand exhaled hard, dragging his hands over his face with a groan.

“Moiraine wants me to go to Tear.” He looked up, his eyes shadowed with doubt. “She says I need to claim Callandor. That it’ll help me fight the Forsaken. Help me prepare for what’s coming.” He paused. The silence stretched taut around them. “But it feels like walking into a trap,” he admitted, voice rough. “Going to Tear… when we don’t even know who we’re fighting anymore. We’re stumbling in the dark, not knowing who to trust or where is safe.”

He shook his head slowly. “Maybe—”

He stopped, the words catching on his tongue, unfinished, unspoken. His shoulders slumped forward under the weight of too many expectations.

Before Rand could continue his sentence, the door to the common room creaked open.

Elyndria turned sharply, her pulse quickening, only to see Lan stepping inside alone. His face was drawn, lines of tension carved into his brow, and there was a weariness in the way he carried himself—like a man who had seen too much in too short a time.

She stood immediately.

“I thought you were going to help the Warders… to find Moiraine?” Elyndria asked, her voice sharper than intended. Her eyes darted to the door behind him, searching for Moiraine’s familiar silhouette.

Lan gave a slow shake of his head, his eyes meeting hers.

“Moiraine found me,” he said. His voice was low, tinged with exhaustion. “She told me to return here. The other Aes Sedai are tending to the wounded… but she doesn't want us near the Tower after what happened today.” He paused, scanning the room. “She’s on the roof,” Lan continued. “She wants to speak with all of you.”

No one argued.

They rose in silence, the air thick with tension as they followed Lan up the narrow stairs. Elyndria’s heart thudded heavily in her chest. She had known the Tower was dangerous—had grown up beneath its shadow, seen the politics, the maneuverings, the sharp-edged smiles behind silken veils.

But this?

This was something else entirely. Something darker.

She stepped out onto the rooftop and paused. The space had been arranged with care—chairs set in a gentle circle, small flower pots lining the edge, their petals stirring in the wind. It was beautiful, oddly so, considering the weight pressing down on all of them.

And then she saw Moiraine—standing at the far end of the rooftop, her back to them, gazing out at the shining spire of the White Tower in the distance. 

Elyndria studied her for a heartbeat, trying to read the stillness in her posture, the silence wrapped around her like armor. She had always admired Moiraine—sharp as a blade, calm as a mountain lake, a presence that could not be ignored.

But now, she seemed… tired. Not broken, never that, but older somehow.

As they stepped fully onto the roof, Moiraine turned to face them. Her expression gave nothing away. Moiraine spoke, her tone as composed as ever.

“The city is not safe. Obviously. I would ask you all to stay here. But I know you’ll do as you wish…” Her voice carried easily in the open air, cutting through the wind and the stillness like a knife.

“So, please remember—” she continued, her gaze sweeping over them, sharp and cool. “The person shining your shoes will give your description to the Southharbor fishmonger. Who in turn will speak quietly to the innkeeper at the Upriver Run, who reports every suspicious newcomer directly to the Red Ajah.”

Elyndria stiffened. She knew how deeply those lines of communication ran. She had lived among them. Most outsiders had no idea how quickly the Tower could mobilize against a threat—real or perceived.

Moiraine’s next words struck home.

“Cover your hair. Hide your weapons. If word of the Dragon has reached this far, the Aes Sedai will be the first to know. And after what happened today… I don’t want any of you near another Aes Sedai.”

Elyndria flinched slightly, not from the words themselves, but from what they meant.

Moiraine didn’t issue warnings lightly.

Her final words were simple, but they weighed like iron. “Those who are not staying in Tar Valon—or are not planning to leave for the Two Rivers—we sail for Tear at dawn.”

And with that, she turned and walked toward the stairs. Lan followed without a word, silent as ever, a shadow at her heels.

Rand’s voice broke the silence “Where are you going?” he asked, brow furrowed.

Moiraine’s response came faintly, already halfway down the stairs.

“Into the city.”

There was a moment of stillness. No one quite knew what to say.

Then Loial spoke, voice gentle and thoughtful. “Why does she always want to leave at dawn? Why not after a hearty breakfast?”

Elyndria gave a soft laugh, the sound catching in her throat. It was strange how Loial could ease the weight in her chest with just a few words. Across from her, Bain and Chiad chuckled as well, their amusement genuine.

Mat, of course, wasted no time.

“Loial, I'd love to chat about that, but I’ve been cooped up on a bloody boat for a month, and I’m not staying in.” He stretched his arms above his head dramatically. “Rand? Perrin? You coming? One last hurrah before dawn breaks and Moiraine drags you all off again?”

Rand and Perrin shared a look—tired but familiar—and with quiet chuckles of their own, nodded and followed Mat down the steps.

Elyndria watched as Aviendha, Bain, and Chiad moved after them with the same fluid grace they always carried. She smiled faintly. Rand would scowl and grumble, she knew—he was never quite used to being followed. But it wouldn't stop them. Nothing would. The Aiel saw something in him. A truth. A destiny.

Car’a’carn.

That name still lingered in her mind like a whisper. A title full of prophecy and blood and sunlit sand. And Rand… he had no idea what it truly meant. Not yet.

She sank slowly into one of the chairs, wrapping her arms around herself as the night wind rose again. Her eyes turned back to the distant White Tower.

So much had changed.

And so much more was coming.

She could feel it in her bones. The game had shifted. The shadows were stirring. And dawn… was only hours away.

The rooftop slowly emptied, the soft murmur of voices fading down the stairs. Laughter echoed faintly as the others disappeared. Elyndria remained where she sat, still and quiet, as the breeze tugged at the hem of her cloak. The door to the rooftop swung gently in the wind behind her, then stilled.

Alone now.

She leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to just breathe.

The events of the day weighed on her like wet wool. The White Tower, the Black Ajah, Ivhon’s death, the pain carved into Nynaeve’s face, the lines of tension around Moiraine’s eyes—all of it spun through her mind in a heavy, tangled knot.

She had once believed the Tower was a sanctuary. A place of truth and order. A place where knowledge was preserved, where purpose was forged. The sisters of the Green Ajah had been her guiding light: fierce, brave, unyielding in the face of Shadow. Saerel, her mentor, had embodied everything Elyndria aspired to be—until today.

Now?

The Tower felt hollow. Cracked.

Rotten at the core.

She rose slowly and drifted to the edge of the rooftop, resting her hands on the stone rail. Below her, the streets of Tar Valon glimmered with torchlight and quiet movement. The river’s silver ribbon snaked its way through the heart of the city, and beyond it—there it was—the White Tower. Tall, gleaming, unmoved.

But for the first time in her life, it didn’t soothe her.

It loomed.

She stared at it, waiting for the comfort to return… but all she felt was dread. The image of the Aes Sedai who had turned on their Warders—their Warders—flashed in her mind again.

She clenched the railing tighter, jaw set.

That was not the Tower she had loved. Not the Tower that had raised her.

Movement below caught her eye.

She stiffened, leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowing. Three figures were approaching the inn. One woman walked ahead, confident and upright, flanked closely by two others in silk and shawl.

Elyndria's heart dropped into her stomach.

The Amyrlin Seat.

She knew that unmistakable stride, the way the world seemed to part around her. Even from a distance, Siuan Sanche radiated command like a blade unsheathed. The women at her sides bore the serenity of full sisters, their ageless faces unreadable.

Elyndria stepped back swiftly, breath catching. She ducked out of sight and pressed her back against the stone wall, her heart hammering in her chest.

They’re here for us.

Of course they were.

After what happened—after the Black Ajah revealed themselves—the Tower would tighten its grip. And anyone who could channel would be swept back up into its embrace. For their protection, they’d say. For the safety of others.

But Elyndria knew the truth behind that polished reasoning.

Control.

Siuan Sanche would not let women of power run unchecked. Not now. Not with the world unraveling.

Her hands found the stair rail. She stared at it, her breath shaky.

She could return. She could do her duty. She could bow her head and follow the Tower’s path, fight as a Green, wield Saidar with honor… under their eyes. Under their rules.

But something in her rebelled.

It twisted inside her chest, sharp and certain. The Tower no longer felt like home. It felt like a cage.

Her fingers trembled on the rail. She stepped back, her legs unsteady, and sat heavily in the nearest chair. Her hands gripped her knees tightly as she struggled to ground herself, to quiet the chaos inside.

And then she felt it—the weight on her finger. The serpent ring. She looked down at it, the golden serpent biting its tail, an endless circle. A symbol of eternity, of the Tower’s legacy. Of belonging.

She turned it slowly, watching the metal catch the moonlight. It felt heavier now, like it no longer fit her hand. Like it didn’t belong there anymore.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. With deliberate slowness, she slid the ring off her finger.

It felt strange—liberating. Terrifying.

She stood again and crossed back to the railing. Without a word, she placed the ring on the stone edge. It gleamed faintly in the moonlight, cold and still.

She stared at it for a long moment.

“I will not go back,” she whispered to herself. “Not like that.”

She would not return to the Tower as another piece in its endless game. She would not serve blindly. She would not bow and nod and smile while darkness festered within its heart.  

Elyndria stood for a long while, the cool night wind brushing through her hair, pulling at the loose strands near her face.

The serpent ring sat quietly on the stone, gleaming gold against the pale grey rooftop, untouched. A symbol of what she had given up. Of what she refused to be bound by.

Her chest rose and fell with a slow, steady breath. She felt the absence of the ring like the quiet after a storm—unnerving but clear. It was as though a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying had finally been set down.

No more oaths whispered into stone halls. No more blind obedience wrapped in layers of decorum.

She was done.

The door below creaked faintly. Elyndria stiffened, listening. Voices floated up—a woman’s, low and sharp with authority. The Amyrlin’s. She recognized the clipped cadence, the way words turned to commands. The Amyrlin was in the common room now.

A flicker of fear coiled through her, fast and sharp.

What if they searched the inn?

What if they asked for her?

What if they found her ring on the railing and knew what she had done?

She clenched her jaw. Let them. She would not be dragged back. Not by Siuan Sanche. Not by any sister.

Especially not after what had happened today.

Elyndria stepped away from the edge, pacing once in a tight circle. Her arms wrapped around herself instinctively, as though trying to hold her thoughts in place. But they ran wild— Saerel fighting in the Hall, of black-cloaked sisters wielding the One Power to strike down Warders without hesitation. Of Ivhon’s name on Lan’s lips. Of the look on Nynaeve’s face—lost, broken.

And the worst part?

The Tower knew.

The rot didn’t start today. It had been growing, festering. They had let the Black Ajah grow in their midst. Sisters who had sworn their lives to the Light, now bound to the Shadow. And no one had stopped them. No one had warned them.

And yet—they would come now, demanding obedience. Elyndria turned her gaze back toward the city, toward the Tower. Its perfect white surface glowed silver-blue beneath the moonlight. Still proud. Still untouchable.

But to her?

It looked like a tomb.

Footsteps behind her startled her out of her thoughts.

She spun, her heart leaping into her throat, only to find Egwene stepping onto the rooftop. The other woman stopped short, blinking, surprised to see her still there.

“I came up to check on you. The Amyrlin Seat came and spoke with us. We are expected to go back to the White Tower tomorrow,” Egwene said softly. “She asked about you. I said that you were with the others.”

Elyndria gave her a wan smile. “Thank you, for not telling her I was up here.”

Egwene stepped closer, her eyes drifting to the ring on the railing. She stilled.

“You…?” she asked quietly, not quite finishing the thought.

Elyndria nodded, folding her arms. “I can’t go back. Not after this. Not to a place that doesn’t even recognize the danger within its own walls.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncertain.

“I understand,” Egwene said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve felt it too. Ever since Falme. Everything has changed. The Tower’s not what I thought it was.” She looked at Elyndria, searching her face. “But are you sure?”

Elyndria looked down at the ring again.

“No,” she said honestly. “But I know what I won’t do. And that’s enough for now.”

Egwene moved to stand beside her, their shoulders nearly touching.

“I will be going to do my trials today, very soon actually. To become accepted and gain my serpent ring,” she murmured. “But I will not be staying at the White Tower. Nynaeve has to because her powers are still blocked and Elayne too since she is daughter-heir of Andor. I have no ties to the tower, no loyalty to hold me back, I will be going with you and Rand, wherever our travels take us.”

Elyndria turned to Egwene with confusion showing in her eyes, “Then why do the trials, become accepted by the Aes Sedai?”

“So, the tower will help Rand when or if he needs it in the future. I can talk them around it. They want me as an Aes Sedai, I can see it in their eyes, I can manipulate the situation to fall in our favour. You can’t though. You’ve taken oaths, if they find you before we leave for Tear they will demand you stay in the White Tower and if you refuse…” Egwene trailed off hesitantly. Elyndria understood what she was meaning to say. Elyndria would be stilled or caged if she refused to stay in the White Tower. Egwene sighed heavily, “I can do it. Neither of us will be forced to stay here.”

Elyndria nodded and reached out grasping for Egwene’s hand, giving her a thankful squeeze.

They stood together in silence for a moment, gazing out over Tar Valon as the stars wheeled overhead and the Tower loomed in the distance—white, unyielding, and no longer their only path.

Elyndria had made her choice. She would walk beside the Dragon Reborn.

Not as a tool of the Tower.

But as herself.

Chapter 25: The unexpected

Notes:

So keen to start writing for season 3. It's been a very interesting and thrilling season so far.

Night had fallen fully over Tar Valon, the moon casting a pale glow across the slanted rooftops and narrow alleyways. From the rooftop, the city had seemed distant and cold—its glistening towers and arched bridges like a dream half-remembered. But down here, in the warm lamplight of the inn’s common room, everything felt very real again.

The others had returned not long ago, full of laughter and flushed cheeks, the air around them humming with energy. Even Egwene had returned, with a slight vacant look, but with the great serpent ring on her finger; showing everyone that she had been accepted as an Aes Sedai. The room was alive with noise—cups clinking, dice bouncing off tables, playful insults thrown between friends.

Elyndria sat curled in one of the deep armchairs by the fireplace, her cup nestled between her palms. The drink was warm and spiced, a blend Nynaeve had made for her after catching her grimace at the bitter ale Rand had attempted to make her try.

“I added a bit of honey and some sliced peach,” Nynaeve had said with a wink, pressing the warm mug into her hands. “We can’t have you choking on whatever that was,” she added, shooting a look toward the tankard in Rand’s hand.

“Oi!” Rand protested, looking mock-offended. “That’s a fine brew from an honest innkeeper who probably risked her life getting it past the gates.”

“I’d rather risk my life on something that doesn’t taste like vinegar,” Elyndria said, raising her mug in a small toast to Nynaeve. “Thank you.”

Now, as the night wore on, she sipped slowly and let the chaos of the room settle around her like a warm blanket. Perrin and Mat were engaged in some kind of impromptu game of stones against Loial, who, despite his gentle demeanor, was utterly trouncing them.

“No, no, Mat,” Loial rumbled with a laugh, moving another piece into place. “You’ve left your north flank completely unguarded.”

“What north flank?” Mat groaned, squinting at the board. “There are flanks now?”

Perrin just shook his head and muttered, “We should’ve stuck to dice.”

Not far away, Bain and Chiad had joined Aviendha in a spirited game of knife throwing—inside, of course. Elayne was watching nervously from a corner, arms crossed.

“If they hit a lamp,” she muttered to Rand, “I’m not healing a burn on anyone’s backside. Just so we’re clear.”

“I think they’re aiming for the wooden beam,” Rand replied, though his tone said even he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Elyndria watched it all with a soft smile, the warmth from her drink and the fire easing some of the tightness still coiled in her chest. There was something precious in this moment. A fragile kind of peace. They were warriors, hunted, marked by prophecy and shadow—but here, just for tonight, they were friends.

Rand eventually made his way over and sat beside her on the edge of a chair, holding a half-finished cup in one hand.

“You didn’t join us on the walk,” he said, voice low enough that only she could hear over the clamor. “I would have liked you coming.”

“No, that time was for you and the rest of the boys” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the fire. “I needed… quiet. Just for a while.”

Rand nodded, understanding. “A lot happened today.”

“Too much,” Elyndria said. She looked at him sideways, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “And you didn’t miss the Aiel trailing behind you?”

“I tried to lose them,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder where Bain and Chiad were now teaching Loial how to throw a knife. “Aviendha actually climbed the tavern roof to follow me. The roof.”

“I believe it,” she said, sipping again. “They’ve decided they’re protecting you, Car’a’carn.”

Rand groaned again and leaned back, the weight of everything he carried visible in his posture. But the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“You’re not calling me that too, are you?”

Elyndria tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm. I’ll consider it. Once you stop trying to make me drink that swamp water you call ale.”

They both laughed quietly, and for a moment the shadows felt just a little less close.

Across the room, Egwene and Nynaeve were deep in conversation, Elayne joining them with flushed cheeks and a newly filled glass. It was a moment Elyndria had never had at the Tower—this kind of sisterhood, raw and real and built outside of structure and tradition.

She looked down at her hand where the ring used to sit. She didn’t miss it. Not tonight.

She closed her eyes for a second, letting the voices of her friends wash over her like music. When she opened them again, she felt steadier. More certain. The inn’s common room had grown even warmer as the night stretched on, filled with laughter, half-sung songs, and the clatter of a particularly rowdy dice game unfolding near the hearth. The scent of roasted nuts, warm bread, and spiced wine mingled in the air. The weariness of the day had not vanished, but it had softened, dulled by companionship.

Elyndria leaned back in her chair, legs tucked beneath her as she watched the others with quiet affection. Her drink sat forgotten on the side table—Nynaeve’s fruit blend was sweet and mellow, and it lingered pleasantly on her tongue.

“Come on, Elyndria,” Mat called, grinning over his shoulder as he stood on a low bench, holding a pair of dice in his hands. “You’ve got the best luck out of all of us. Put it to good use.”

“You only say that because I beat you the last time we played,” she replied, raising a brow.

“Exactly! That’s why I want you on my team this time,” Mat said with a wink.

“She’ll beat you again, Mat,” Egwene said, not looking up from where she and Elayne were seated cross-legged on the floor, stringing together wildflowers someone—probably Loial—had picked from the rooftop.

“Honestly, at this point, you’d lose a game of dice to Loial’s book,” Elayne added sweetly, earning a scandalized gasp from Mat and a rumbling laugh from Loial himself.

Loial looked up from the edge of the room where he was carefully scribing something into his ever-present journal. “Dice are more unpredictable than the Pattern, Mat. I’d say it’s not your fault.”

“I appreciate the defense,” Mat said dramatically, hand over his heart. “Though I think I’ll stick to cards.”

“Only if you don’t cheat this time,” Perrin said from where he was lounging with his boots off, his arms behind his head and golden eyes glinting.

“I never cheat,” Mat huffed, then paused. “I strategize creatively.”

Aviendha snorted. She was sharpening her belt knife with slow, rhythmic strokes while Bain and Chiad looked on, occasionally murmuring in the Aiel tongue and laughing.

Elyndria glanced toward Rand, who was seated near the fire, elbows on his knees, quietly watching the others. There was a small, soft smile on his lips, but she could tell he was still thinking—still calculating. Always weighing the next step. She caught his eye and tilted her head.

He nodded toward her cup. “Did you like it?”

“It was better than your brew,” she teased. “Though that’s not a high bar.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Elyndria blinked, caught off-guard by the sincerity in his voice. “So am I.”

And she meant it.

Before, she would’ve said it out of duty, out of necessity—she had always believed her place was wherever she was needed, wherever Saidar could be used to protect, to fight. But now… with them… she realized she was where she wanted to be.

Nynaeve came over then, a tray of cups in her hands. “Refills, everyone. And no, Mat, this one’s not stronger—I saw what you were planning.”

“Ruin all my fun,” he muttered as he accepted the cup anyway.

Egwene tugged Elyndria down from her seat and onto the floor beside her. “Help us with the flowers. Elayne’s trying to make a crown.”

“It’s not a crown, it’s a circlet,” Elayne corrected with an air of mock dignity. “For Rand. He needs something for Tear, don’t you think?”

Elyndria laughed softly as she joined them, weaving a strand of tiny white blossoms together. “If it’s for Rand, we should probably make sure it doesn’t catch on fire.”

“He’s not that bad,” Egwene said, glancing over at him with fondness and a hint of exasperation. “Most of the time.”

“Most,” Nynaeve muttered, sipping from her cup.

Time blurred pleasantly. Stories were shared—Mat recounted an embellished tale of how he once out-drank a lord (no one believed him); Loial described an Ogier feast so vividly they all swore they could smell honeycakes; Bain and Chiad told a story about a goat that had once stolen a Wise One’s boots.

Laughter came easily, and for the first time in what felt like days, no one spoke of battles, of shadows, of the Tower.

Elyndria rested her chin on her knee, her gaze drifting lazily around the room. These people, this moment—it felt more real than anything she had experienced in the Tower. Not neat, not orderly, not rehearsed. But real. And for the first time in years, the ache in her chest that had long whispered of loneliness and disconnection had quieted.

She belonged.

The room swayed with warmth and laughter, hazy from the low-burning fire and the occasional puff of smoke from Mat’s long-forgotten pipe. Elayne leaned sleepily against Elyndria’s shoulder, her flower circlet now half-slipped over one ear. Egwene was braiding Nynaeve’s hair, and even Aviendha had relaxed, her feet bare and her face flushed from the warmth and drink.

Elyndria smiled faintly, lifting her cup of fruit-blended wine, the sweet taste settling softly on her tongue. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let the comfort of the moment wrap around her like a cloak.

Then a familiar warmth brushed her hand.

She blinked and looked down just as Rand’s fingers slid between hers, roughened but careful. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes—mischief, maybe, or something quieter.

“Come on,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

Before she could ask, he tugged gently, pulling her to her feet. Elayne blinked sleepily up at them, then gave Elyndria a sly little smile as she let her go.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Elayne said, teasing.

Elyndria rolled her eyes but felt her face grow warm.

Rand gave a vague nod to the group, who didn’t seem to notice—Mat was arguing with Perrin about the rules of some card game, and Loial was half-asleep in his chair. Rand didn’t speak again until they were climbing the narrow stairs, hand in hand, the noise of the common room softening behind them.

“You looked like you needed a rescue,” he said, his voice light, though there was a gentleness behind it.

“From what? Comfortable chairs and flower braids?” she asked with a soft laugh.

He gave her a sideways glance, eyes dancing. “Exactly. Terrible fate.”

Elyndria shook her head, letting herself be led. “You’re lucky you’re charming, Rand al’Thor.”

“Hmm. You’ve never said that before.”

“Well, I won’t say it again,” she shot back, trying to hold back her smile.

They reached the door to their room. Rand pushed it open quietly, letting her step in first. The fire was already lit inside, casting a golden glow over the room, flickering against the walls and the edge of the bed.

She turned back to look at him as he closed the door behind them. The door clicked softly behind them, and for a moment, the room fell silent except for the crackling of the fire.

Elyndria took in a breath, the heat of the flames mingling with the warmth that had settled between them. She turned to Rand, who was still watching her with an expression that seemed to shift between uncertainty and a quiet desire.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing a lock of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Elyndria felt her pulse quicken, something between anticipation and affection settling in her chest.

"Rand..." she began, but her words faded as his fingers gently cupped her cheek, the roughness of his hands contrasting with the softness of her skin.

His thumb traced over her lower lip, and Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat. She met his gaze, her heart racing faster now, the world outside the room fading into nothing. Then, without a word, Rand leaned in, his lips brushing against hers with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine. For a moment, it was just the quiet, soft pressure of his kiss, a promise in the way he held her.

Elyndria closed her eyes, her fingers finding his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her touch. As the kiss deepened, the quiet between them became something more, a language without words. Elyndria’s hand slid up to his neck, fingers threading through his hair, and Rand’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

The warmth between them grew, and everything else—the noise from the common room, the weight of the world outside—disappeared into the background. They began to make their way over to the bed, feet stumbling as they laid down their hands and mouths never leaving each other’s as their clothes began to shift, their fingers slowly unbuttoning each other’s clothes as they lost themselves in each other blissfully.

---

 

The darkness of the room felt heavy around her as Elyndria's body jerked awake. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes snapped open to see Rand’s hands, cold and strong, wrapped tightly around her neck.

Panic surged through her, her chest constricting, struggling to breathe. Her hands shot up, instinctively pushing against him with all her strength. Desperation bubbled inside her as she seized the One Power, channeling Saidar. The force of it surged through her, throwing him back across the room with a violent blast.

Elyndria gasped for air, her hands instinctively clutching her throat as she tried to make sense of the situation.

Her eyes darted across the room, still blurry with the remnants of sleep and fear. On the other side of the bed, Rand was slowly blinking awake, his gaze soft and confused, eyes meeting hers.

“What’s wrong?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with sleep.

Elyndria shook her head, her heartbeat still racing in her chest. “No… look,” she whispered, pointing to the doppleganger—the other Rand—who was now struggling to stand up.

He looked identical to the real one, but his eyes—there was something off, something wrong in them.

The real Rand shot to his feet, eyes wide with confusion and anger. He took a step forward, and then his posture stiffened as he stared at the doppleganger.

“What the hell?” he breathed.

Elyndria stepped back, putting distance between herself and the doppelganger. Her hands trembled as she tried to keep her composure.

“He was choking me,” she said, her voice thin.

Rand’s back tensed, a furious gleam in his eyes. Without warning, the doppleganger lunged at him, knocking him to the floor. They tumbled, grappling with each other, their bodies tangled in a blur of movement.

Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat as she watched them fight, unsure of which one was truly her Rand.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her.

Spinning, she kicked out, her feet connecting with another doppleganger—this one had come from behind her. He fell hard onto the floor, but it quickly righted itself, moving swiftly toward her.

"No!" she shouted, her voice tinged with panic.

She threw out a blast of Saidar, the power crackling through her and slamming into the doppleganger, sending it flying across the room. The mirror behind him shattered, the glass cascading to the floor in sharp, glittering shards. The doppleganger crumpled into the shards, disappearing with a final, sickening crunch.

But her relief was fleeting. Elyndria turned around only to find another doppleganger climbing out of another mirror. Horror filled her as she saw him advancing toward her, blade in hand, the glint of metal catching the light.

"Rand!" she cried out, but before she could react, a sharp pain seared through her stomach. She gasped as the doppleganger’s blade pierced her skin, her breath catching painfully. Her hands instinctively pressed against the wound, trying to stem the blood, but it was too much.

The doppleganger pulled the blade free, ready to strike again. With all her strength, Elyndria pushed him away, her hands raised as she channeled Saidar. The force of the Power sent him crashing into the wall, his body crumpling against the stone. But the damage had already been done.

She stumbled back onto the bed, clutching her bleeding stomach. Her vision blurred as she gasped for air, the pain burning through her like fire.

“Rand!” she cried out, trying to gain his attention, her voice weak, but urgent. “It’s the mirrors. They’re coming from them! We have to destroy them!”

The real Rand was still grappling with the first doppleganger, and now his focus seemed frenzied. Elyndria’s body shook as she clutched her wound, the blood seeping through her fingers. He finally shoved his doppleganger onto the floor, but instead of taking a moment to assess the situation, he stepped forward, his eyes burning with the intensity of Saidin.

The room seemed to tremble as he drew on the One Power.

Elyndria gasped, the force of it making her stumble back further onto the bed, her body jerking from the strain of her wound and the power around her.

The mirrors began to crack, shattering as the dopplegangers crumbled into glass on the floor, but Rand’s power was so wild, so uncontrolled, that the destruction didn’t stop there. Furniture splintered and shattered, the walls groaned as the energy of Saidin tore through the room.

“Rand! Stop! You have to stop!” Elyndria shouted, her voice trembling as the room continued to disintegrate around them.

But Rand didn’t hear her, or if he did, he wasn’t responding. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep, as though lost in the power he was wielding.

She reached desperately for their bond, her heart lurching with the frantic need to reach him. Rand, she called silently, feeling the bond stretch between them. Please, let go.

His brows furrowed, his face contorting with confusion. Slowly, his eyes opened, and the haziness in them faltered as he caught sight of her. His expression shifted from focus to shock, then to horror, as he saw her clutching her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers.

“Elyndria!” he gasped, his voice filled with panic as he dropped to his knees beside her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her hands clutched his arms weakly, trying to calm him even as the pain in her stomach threatened to pull her under.

“It’s okay,” she whispered softly, her voice strained. “It’s okay. You came back to me.”

Rand’s face was full of fear, the power still radiating off him as he hovered beside her.

“I... I almost lost control...” he said, his voice breaking with guilt.

“But you didn’t,” Elyndria interjected quickly, trying to comfort him despite her own agony. “You came back. I can’t heal myself,” Elyndria whispered, her breath shallow as she struggled to stay conscious. “You have to do it. I’ll talk you through it.”

Rand looked reluctant, his fear still evident in the way his eyes darted over her wound. “I... I almost—”

“But you didn’t,” she interrupted gently. “You came back. I trust you. Please.”

Rand nodded, and slowly, hesitantly, he reached for her wound. The warmth of Saidin surged into the room, swirling around them as Rand carefully began to weave the Healing as he listened to Elyndria’s instructions.

Elyndria’s body tensed at the heat of it—the power was fierce, too much at times, but it was his. She gripped his arms tightly as he worked, her breath catching at the intensity of the feeling. His power was hot, relentless, like fire crawling across her skin. The pain from her wound dulled slowly, the warmth of his power working its way into her body, mending the flesh and soothing the blood.

Elyndria’s head fell forward, her forehead pressing against his chest as she breathed deeply, feeling her wound begin to close.

Slowly, the agony ebbed away, and she could feel the wound healing, the deep burn turning into something bearable. Her grip on his arms loosened, her body relaxing into the healing power.

She leaned back, gazing up at him, her voice hoarse but filled with gratitude.

“You did it,” she whispered. “You healed me.”

Rand’s eyes were wide with relief and something else—something deeper. He kissed her forehead softly, his lips lingering as if he was afraid to let her go, to believe she was truly safe. Elyndria remained on the bed for a moment longer, her body still feeling the lingering heat of Saidar and the tender, comforting presence of Rand beside her.

She could feel his arms around her, grounding her, keeping her safe as the chaos in the room slowly began to quiet.

The sound of their breath mingling in the heavy silence was almost peaceful—until the door swung open, the wood creaking on its hinges.

Aviendha and Elayne burst into the room, their eyes wide with concern, though the latter's expression quickly shifted to one of shock as she took in the wreckage. The broken furniture, shattered mirrors, and the remnants of glass on the floor painted a grim picture.

"Oh my god," Elayne breathed, rushing to Elyndria's side. Her eyes locked onto the bloodstained patch on Elyndria's white nightdress, the crimson stain stark against the pale fabric. "You're hurt!" she exclaimed, her hands reaching instinctively toward her friend’s wound.

Elyndria gently stopped her hands, placing her own over them, careful not to pull away too suddenly. She smiled faintly, her voice soft as she reassured Elayne, “It’s okay, Elayne. Rand healed me.”

Her gaze moved toward Rand, who was still sitting beside her, his arm protectively around her shoulders.

Aviendha stepped forward, her gaze sharp and watchful, though her stance was still wary, the haft of her spear held firmly in her hands. Her eyes swept the room, alert to any more dangers.

"What happened in here?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with the undertones of concern.

Elyndria took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as the events replayed in her mind.

"There were dopplegangers," she began slowly, her voice quiet but unwavering. "They looked like... like Rand," she gestured toward him, "coming out of the mirrors. They tried to kill us."

Rand, still wrapped around her, gave a sharp nod.

"She’s right," he confirmed, his voice rough but tinged with exhaustion. "When we broke the mirrors they vanished, but it was chaos. We were fighting them off, trying to survive."

Aviendha exchanged a troubled glance with Elayne, her brow furrowing as she continued to scan the room, searching for any sign of another threat. Elyndria’s stomach twisted with unease as the two women shared a silent conversation. Something felt wrong, a sense of unease that was only growing.

"What is it?" Elyndria asked, sitting up slightly, her heart pounding in her chest as she reached out toward them, her fingers trembling slightly. "What are you not telling us?"

Elayne licked her lips nervously, clearly hesitant. Her eyes flicked from Elyndria to Rand and back again before she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The others... strange things happened to them too."

Elyndria's brow furrowed as she caught Elayne's words, her pulse quickening.

"What happened to them?" she asked, her voice tense with concern.

Elayne shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting briefly to Aviendha before continuing.

"Perrin and Loial were attacked by an axe in their room. Egwene, Chiad, and Bain helped them, but it was... it was strange. They said that the axe was moving on it’s own, like it was being controlled." Her eyes darkened slightly, a mixture of fear and confusion in them.

Elyndria clenched her fists, the weight of the situation settling heavily on her shoulders.

"And the others?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly. She could feel Rand's arm tighten around her instinctively.

Elayne’s eyes were clouded with worry as she continued.

"Mat was... put under something that made him not sense what was happening around him. He was lost, like he couldn’t tell where he was or what was real. It was like... his mind was being twisted And Nynaeve... she was stabbed eleven times by a man with grey eyes and blackened fingers." Her eyes lowered to the floor, her voice barely audible. "I don’t know what kind of creature it was, but it wasn’t human.”

A cold shiver ran down Elyndria’s spine.

Nynaeve... stabbed?

Eleven times?

She could hardly wrap her mind around the thought. But the terror in Elayne’s voice, the fear in Aviendha’s gaze—it made her stomach twist into knots.

Aviendha’s voice cut through the silence, calm but firm. “Moiraine wants us in her quarters for the night. All of us. Together, so we can be better protected.”

Rand nodded immediately and turned toward Elyndria, gently helping her to her feet. She stumbled slightly, a soft hiss escaping her lips as the sudden motion sent a wave of dizziness through her. The healing had closed her wound, but it hadn't restored her strength. Rand's arm stayed firmly around her waist, steadying her.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his eyes full of concern.

Together, the four of them—Rand, Elyndria, Aviendha, and Elayne—made their way through the torchlit hallways toward Moiraine’s quarters. The air was heavy with tension, as if the walls themselves sensed the danger that had touched them all. When they finally arrived, the door creaked open to reveal a grim scene.

Everyone was already gathered.

Nynaeve lay motionless on the bed, her normally warm brown skin disturbingly pale. Egwene and Mat hovered at her side, their expressions drawn tight with worry. Lan stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed, his entire body stiff with tension as he watched over her protectively.

Moiraine was crouched in front of Perrin, who sat on the ground with blood streaming from his hands. She was weaving flows of Spirit and Water, healing his injuries with an almost fevered focus. The scent of copper hung thick in the room. Loial stood nearby, looking lost and stricken. Bain and Chiad stood behind him, quiet but watchful, their Aiel instincts sharp in spite of the emotional weight in the room.

Egwene looked up as the four new arrivals entered, her eyes immediately falling on Elyndria. Her expression changed in an instant—widened with alarm. “Elyndria—you’re bleeding!”

All eyes turned to her.

Elyndria shook her head and lifted her hand in reassurance.

“I’m fine. Rand healed me,” she said, her voice soft but steady. She walked slowly over to Nynaeve’s bedside, eyes searching the sleeping woman’s face. “How is she?” she asked.

Mat sighed, his shoulders slumping as he rubbed a hand over his face.

“As good as she can be after being stabbed eleven times,” he muttered. “I don’t know how she’s still breathing.”

Elyndria swallowed hard, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from Nynaeve’s forehead. “Light, Nynaeve…”

Moiraine stood slowly, finished with Perrin’s hands, and wiped her own on a cloth already soaked in red. Her face was pale but composed.

“What happened to you two?” she asked, glancing between Rand and Elyndria.

“They had Rand dopplegangers climbing out of mirrors trying to kill them,” Aviendha said bluntly, arms folded over her chest.

“Light,” Perrin muttered from the couch, leaning back heavily and closing his eyes. “Now that is terrifying—multiple Rands…”

“Very funny,” Rand replied dryly, stepping over and placing a steadying hand on Perrin’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Perrin gave a small nod, wincing slightly. “Yeah. Just tired. And sore.”

Moiraine looked between all of them, her expression hardening with resolve.

“You will all stay here tonight,” she said. “So we can look out for each other. Whatever this is—it’s not a coincidence. The signs are too aligned. The Forsaken have found us.”

Her words hit the room like a hammer. A tense silence followed, everyone looking at each other with the grim weight of that truth.

“That means we leave as soon as we can,” Moiraine continued. Her gaze flicked to Rand, Elyndria, and Egwene. “Be ready. No delays. No arguments.”

They each nodded, exhaustion etched into their faces.

Moiraine took a slow, deep breath. “Get as much sleep as you can. You’ll need it.”

Lan stepped forward, his presence like a shadow beside hers. “We’ll keep watch,” he said, voice calm but iron-strong. “You all rest.”

Elyndria felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly, just enough to breathe. She moved to sit beside Rand on the floor near one of the walls, letting her body lean against his as his arm circled her once more.

Despite everything—the blood, the fear, the battles just barely survived—they were all alive. For now. And in the space of that single room, surrounded by those they trusted with their lives, they had a sliver of safety. Just enough to rest before the storm resumed.

It felt like Elyndria had only just closed her eyes to sleep when Rand’s hands were on her shoulders, shaking her awake. Her body ached, the memory of pain still lingering like a bruise, but his voice was gentle, urgent.

“Elyndria. It’s time.”

Around the room, everyone was already moving. Nynaeve was upright, pale but steady, with Lan hovering just behind her like a shadow, his hand outstretched as if to steady her should she falter. Egwene handed her a cloak, her expression drawn. Mat leaned on his staff, dark circles beneath his eyes.

No one looked like they’d truly slept.

No one felt safe.

Elyndria followed Rand back to their room—what was left of it. Shattered mirror glass crunched under her boots, jagged pieces glinting in the morning light that filtered in through the cracked window. Furniture was splintered, scorched, tossed about like the remnants of a storm. The air still held the scent of smoke and something acrid beneath it—like magic gone wild.

Rand moved quickly, almost angrily, grabbing clothing and supplies and stuffing them into his satchel with jerking motions. Elyndria could feel his tension through the bond—frustration, fear, guilt.

It made her chest tighten.

“You’re thinking pretty hard over there,” she said softly, her voice meant to be gentle, to cut through the storm in his head.

Rand froze. His hand tightened around a tunic. His back was to her, but she saw the way his shoulders rose with a sharp inhale.

“I... I don’t think we should go to Tear.”

Elyndria stopped her own packing and turned fully to face him.

“The Forsaken will expect us to go there,” Rand continued. “It’s too obvious. And after what happened last night… I don’t want any of you in their path. Not again.”

“Rand—” Elyndria began, but he shook his head, turning toward her now, eyes bright with intensity and something brittle beneath the surface.

“No. Let me finish.” His voice cracked. “We all nearly died last night. Light, if we didn’t have our powers... Nynaeve, you, maybe even Perrin—" He broke off, breathing hard, eyes burning into hers. “I can’t let that happen. Not because of me.”

Elyndria dropped the cloak in her hands and crossed the room to him, reaching up and placing her hands gently on his arms.

“Not because of you? No. Don’t interrupt me now, Rand al’Thor,” she said firmly when he opened his mouth again. “What happened last night was not your doing. It was the Forsaken. Maybe even the Black Ajah. But you did not summon that horror.”

Rand’s jaw worked, but he didn’t speak.

“We are not following you because we have to,” Elyndria continued. “We’re here because we want to be. We’re fighting the Shadow because it must be fought. We would do this with or without you, Rand. The Pattern put us here together, and yes, we are in danger—but not because of you.”

Rand sighed heavily, his gaze falling to the floor between them. Elyndria reached up and cupped his cheek, drawing his gaze back to hers.

“I can’t promise we won’t be hurt again,” she said softly. “But being together, protecting each other, that’s what gives us strength. That’s what keeps us going.” For a moment, his emotions warred—fear, guilt, affection, all rippling across the bond. And then, slowly, finally, she felt it settle. Acceptance. Resolve. Rand nodded, eyes still on hers.

Elyndria smiled, soft and warm, and brushed her thumb across his cheek. “Now,” she said, stepping back, “if you’re done panicking over our inevitable doom, help me find my other boot.”

A soft, tired laugh escaped Rand’s lips, and together, they resumed packing—side by side, as they were meant to be. “If you don’t want us to go to Tear,” Elyndria said as she folded her cloak and laid it into her satchel, “then where will we go?”

Rand didn’t answer right away.

His hands stilled where they gripped a bundle of shirts. She glanced at him, sensing the hesitation knotting in his chest through the bond.

Then, in a low voice, as if he feared the very walls might betray him, he said, “The Aiel Waste.”

Elyndria’s head snapped up, brows furrowing in shock. “What?”

Rand didn’t look at her. He kept packing, slower now, more deliberate. “The Maidens of the Spear… they believe I’m the Car’a’carn,” he said quietly. “And maybe… maybe they’re right.”

Elyndria straightened, the silence between them deepening as she listened.

“You were right when you said I shared the features of the Aiel,” Rand went on, still not meeting her gaze. “And their prophecy—it’s too precise. It lines up too cleanly with what I’ve been told, what I’ve seen. If I go to the Waste, if I take their trials and I am who they say… then we’ll have the Aiel at our backs. Warriors—hundreds of them. Strong, fast, fearless. We’ll need them.” His voice dipped lower. “And it’ll be the last place the Forsaken think to look. We’d have time. To plan. To breathe.”

Elyndria slowly finished tying her satchel shut, her thoughts turning over his words. It did make sense. Strategically. Logically. But—

“But Rand,” she said softly, “Moiraine wants us to go to Tear. She believes Callandor is the next step. She’s been guiding you toward it for the past month. She’ll be hard to sway.”

Rand’s jaw clenched, his eyes finally rising to meet hers, hard with determination.

“Then she’ll have to be swayed. I’m not going. Not now.” Elyndria could feel his resolve settle like stone through the bond, firm and immovable. “She needs me,” Rand said. “The Dragon Reborn. If I’m going to do this, I need to do it my way.”

Elyndria gave a slow, thoughtful nod, her expression carefully neutral though worry tightened in her chest.

Moiraine would not take this lightly. She would challenge Rand on it—might even try to stop him. But she didn’t argue. Not yet. Instead, she walked to his side, brushing her fingers briefly against the back of his hand in silent support.

“She won’t be happy,” she said, eyes on the closed door. “But she’ll listen. She has to.”

Rand gave a faint smile, grim and resolute. “She’ll have no choice.”

They made their way to the common room, the air heavy with that aching stillness that comes with partings. Everyone stood in quiet clusters, fatigue and sadness carved deep into their expressions. The dim morning light filtered through the dusty windows, and no one rushed. No one wanted to be the first to leave.

Perrin moved first.

He crossed the room and wrapped Rand in a tight embrace, strong arms squeezing hard like he could pass some measure of strength between them through sheer will. When he pulled back, his golden-brown eyes were misty, his voice rough.

“I’ll make sure home is safe,” he said. “When I get back, I’ll check on your dad. I promise.”

Rand’s jaw twitched at the mention of Tam. He nodded, lips pressed together, too tightly wound to speak. Elyndria felt the surge of grief and gratitude twist in his chest through the bond.

“Thank you,” Rand managed after a beat.

Perrin turned to gather his things, sighing when he saw Bain and Chiad waiting by the door beside Loial. His brow furrowed.

“You’re still coming with us?” he asked.

Chiad nodded, chin raised. “Loial saved my life last night. I owe him toh.”

Perrin’s gaze shifted to Bain. She gave him a faint smile, serene and unshakable. “I go where she goes.”

Perrin let out a quiet grunt, somewhere between resigned and amused. “Of course you do.”

He slung his bag onto his back, then strode toward Egwene, Mat, and Nynaeve. He pulled them into a big, all-arms group hug that lingered a moment too long—and not long enough.

“I’ll miss you guys,” he murmured. Then he turned to Elyndria, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. His eyes locked with hers, serious and full of the weight he didn’t speak aloud.

“You’ll look after him, won’t you?” he asked, jerking his chin toward Rand, who stood hugging Nynaeve and Mat now as they prepared to leave for the White Tower.

Elyndria straightened, meeting his gaze with steady resolve.

“Of course,” she said firmly. Her voice didn’t waver.

Perrin stared at her for a beat, then gave a small smile and squeezed her shoulder gently before turning away. He paused at the door, casting one last look over the group—and then he was gone, Loial’s broad figure and the two Aiel women close behind.

Elyndria walked over to Rand to join him near the window where Nynaeve and Mat now stood. Mat pointed out the window with a mischievous spark in his eye.

“Do you ever notice that the White Tower—kind of looks like a massive—”

Before he could finish, Nynaeve shoved him hard, lips twitching with a barely restrained smile. “Move,” she said, gesturing sharply toward the door.

Mat stumbled a bit, laughing, rubbing his ribs. Rand chuckled, and so did Aviendha. Even Lan’s mouth twitched the tiniest fraction. Elyndria smiled too, amused and touched by the normalcy of it—these little bits of banter in the midst of a world about to change again.

She stepped forward, pulling both Mat and Nynaeve into a brief but warm hug. “We’ll see each other again,” she said softly.

Nynaeve touched her arm, then turned to leave. Mat gave a mock salute, eyes glittering with mischief even through the exhaustion. They disappeared through the door, their figures swallowed by morning light.

Now, only a few remained.

 

Rand.

 

Moiraine.

 

Lan.

 

Egwene.

 

Aviendha.

 

And Elyndria.

 

The silence that followed was heavier than before. The farewell had come and gone, and what was left was the uncertainty of what came next.

Elyndria glanced at Rand, his face unreadable but his emotions flickering like storm winds through the bond. There was no going back now. Only forward. They left the inn in the grey light of morning, boots crunching softly against gravel and stone as the narrow streets of the riverside town opened toward the docks.

Mist clung low to the water, and seagulls called overhead.

The group moved in near silence, each step heavy with uncertainty and the weight of farewell. Moiraine and Lan had gone ahead to secure a ship, their figures distant and purposeful among the bustle of sailors preparing for departure. Elyndria walked beside Rand, Aviendha on his other side, and Egwene just behind them. The scent of salt and damp wood hung thick in the air.

“I thought you would've gone with Perrin. Or Elayne,” Rand said suddenly, his voice low as he glanced toward Aviendha.

The Aiel woman’s tone was curt, but steady. “You are the Car’a’carn, whether you or I like it. My duty is to you, as yours is to your people.”

Her words made Elyndria glance toward her in surprise—but there was no bitterness in Aviendha’s expression. Only conviction. Maybe even pride. Elyndria felt Rand shift slightly beside her, the bond between them flickering with quiet acknowledgment.

Moiraine and Lan returned from the docks, the Aes Sedai’s blue skirts swirling gently as she approached.

“I’ve paid the dockmaster for her fastest ship,” Moiraine announced without preamble. “If the wind holds, we’ll be in Tear in a week.”

Elyndria could feel the tension winding tight in Rand even before he spoke.

“We’re not going to Tear,” he said flatly.

Moiraine froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing as though she’d misheard. Lan’s brows shot up, his mouth pressing into a hard line.

The Warder exhaled sharply, frustration flashing across his face. “The Forsaken won’t stop coming for you. In Tear, with Callandor—”

“We’re going to the last place the Forsaken or anyone else would ever think to look for me,” Rand interrupted, calm but firm. “A place to find the army I need to fight the Shadow. We’re going to the Aiel Waste.”

The silence that followed was palpable. The docks, the creaking of wood and the cry of gulls—all of it seemed to fall away for a moment.

Aviendha’s head snapped toward him. Elyndria saw her eyes widen, saw the shock ripple across her face. On the merchant ship not long ago, Rand had been so resistant, so uncertain. Elyndria herself had told him the Aiel believed he was their prophesied leader. He hadn’t believed it then. But now—

Aviendha’s surprise melted into something else. Her lips parted, then curved faintly in relief. Her stance relaxed, proud and quietly pleased. She looked at Rand like she was seeing him for the first time. Like maybe he had just stepped into the man he was always meant to become.

Elyndria glanced between them, feeling the ripple of change in the air. Something important had shifted. She could feel it deep in her chest, steady and inevitable as the turning of the Wheel.

Moiraine stepped forward, her voice soft but urgent. “Rand, please. You must think—reason this through.”

“I am thinking,” Rand cut in sharply, not unkind, but with the weariness of someone who had run every possibility through his mind a thousand times. “It’s all I do these days—think. About every path I could take. The consequences of every action I make.”

His voice was rough, filled with the edge of burden Elyndria could feel through the bond—tight like a drawn bowstring, but steady.

“Don’t tell me it’s not a good plan, Moiraine,” he continued, his eyes locking with the Aes Sedai’s. “We’re not strong enough to fight the Forsaken. Not yet. Especially the stronger ones. I struggled with saidin last night. If it had gone worse…” He trailed off, and Elyndria’s heart clenched, remembering the blood on his shirt, the flash of the mirror breaking. Rand’s voice came again, lower, but firm. “I need more time. Going to the Aiel Waste gives us that. And if I really am the Car’a’carn, like Aviendha and the others believe… then it gives us something else. An army. An entire people behind us when the time comes.”

Moiraine stood still, her face unreadable, eyes narrowing as she studied him. Silence pressed down on the group like a storm waiting to break. Elyndria watched her carefully, felt the quiet thrum of Rand’s nervousness beneath his calm. And then—

A short, sharp nod.

“You’re right,” Moiraine said, her voice tight. “We’re not ready yet.” She held Rand’s gaze for a long moment. “But, Rand… after we complete your journey in the Waste, we must go to Tear.”

Rand let out a breath that sounded like it had been held for days.

“Yes,” he said, relief threading into his voice. “I promise. We will go then.”

Moiraine inhaled, her jaw tight. “I’ll suppose I shall go speak with the dockmaster to cancel that ship then. We will be travelling to Aiel Waste by foot. It will take several weeks.”

She turned on her heel, Lan following silently after her.

As Moiraine and Lan disappeared once more toward the docks, Elyndria let out a slow breath and adjusted the strap of her satchel across her shoulder. There would be no ship now. No swift passage along the ocean. The way ahead would be longer, harder—weeks of travel on foot across terrain that grew more treacherous the closer they came to the Spine of the World.

The weight of the decision settled over the group like a fine mist.

Rand stood silently for a moment, watching the distant outline of the docks. Egwene stepped closer to him, worry still faint on her features.

“You know this changes everything,” she said quietly. “The others think we’re going to Tear. No one will expect us to head that way.”

“That’s the point,” Rand answered. His voice was low, but steady. “If the Forsaken think I’m going to Tear, they’ll go there. It gives us time. It gives us space to prepare. And the others will be to focused on their own paths. It will be safer for them not to know where we’re going.”

Aviendha gave a short nod of approval, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. “And the Waste will not make it easy for any who try to follow. Even Shadowspawn.”

Elyndria studied Rand’s face, feeling the storm still roiling beneath his calm exterior. He was holding himself together with threads of resolve, but she could sense his worry, his fear for them all. Still, the path ahead was clear now. And whatever it held, she would walk it beside him.

“I hope the Aiel are ready for you,” Elyndria murmured, half to herself.

“I hope I’m ready for them,” Rand replied, glancing her way with a small, fleeting smile.

The four of them stood quietly at the edge of the street, the morning sun casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Merchants were beginning to stir in the distance, shutters opened, and the scent of bread drifted on the wind.

Tar Valon was waking up—unaware that one of the most dangerous gambits in the world had just begun walking away from it. Moiraine and Lan returned swiftly, Moiraine’s gown billowing with her brisk pace.

“The gold is returned,” she said without preamble. “The dockmaster was irritated but reasonable.” Her eyes scanned the group, resting longest on Rand. “There’s no turning back now.”

“There never was,” Rand said, his voice firmer now.

Lan adjusted the strap of his pack and nodded once. “We should move. There’s distance to cover before nightfall.”

Without another word, the six of them turned their backs to Tar Valon and began the long walk east. Elyndria cast one final glance over her shoulder at the white towers that pierced the sky, the heart of Aes Sedai power shining in the morning light.

It felt like a chapter closing.

But ahead lay something new. Harsh sun. Shifting sands. And answers that had waited lifetimes to be found. With the crunch of boots on dry earth, they left the city behind, bound for the Aiel Waste—and whatever truths the unforgiving desert might reveal.

They moved in silence at first, the morning stretching out in golden hues across the countryside. The city behind them faded slowly into the horizon, its white towers dwindling with every step they took eastward. Elyndria could feel it—each footfall pulling them further from the known, deeper into the web the Pattern was spinning.

The road was wide at first, well-traveled and even. Caravans passed occasionally, drivers raising curious brows at their small, oddly-matched group. Moiraine did not speak for the first hour. Neither did Lan.

They walked just ahead of the others, exchanging the occasional look, perhaps communicating in their own wordless way. Rand walked beside Elyndria, his expression distant but focused. Egwene and Aviendha trailed behind them, speaking in hushed tones from time to time.

Eventually, Elyndria glanced up at Rand. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I have too much to think about,” Rand said. “And too much I still don’t know.”

She studied him for a moment. “You made the choice, Rand. That’s what matters now. Everything else, we face when it comes.”

Rand’s mouth twitched in something that might’ve been gratitude—or exhaustion. “I hope the Aiel welcome us,” he muttered. “They have no reason to, not yet.”

Aviendha heard him, catching up with a few long strides. “If you are the Car’a’carn, they will know. They have waited for you. Not all will believe at once—but many will. Esepcially when you go through the trials in Rhuidean”                                            

“What is Rhuidean?” Egwene asked.

Aviendha’s voice was steady as she walked alongside them now, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. “Rhuidean is an ancient city, hidden deep in the Three-fold Land. Only clan chiefs and Wise Ones are allowed to enter its heart. And those who do… do not return unchanged.”

Elyndria tilted her head toward her, curiosity bright in her gaze. “What do you mean? What happens in the city?”

Aviendha hesitated. For a moment, her usual certainty wavered.

“I do not know. Those who go through the trials do not speak of them. I only know what I’ve been told—that Rhuidean reveals hidden truths. Of the self. Of the soul.” She glanced at Rand, her expression unreadable. “If you are to be the Car’a’carn, they will expect you to walk those paths.”

Rand was silent. Elyndria could feel the flicker of unease rising in him, dull as embers at first, then building into heat. Through the bond, it pulsed—anxiety, apprehension, and something more raw beneath it. Fear, not of failure… but of what he might see.

“What kinds of truths?” he asked quietly.

Aviendha shook her head. “I told you. I am not told much. Only that it is necessary.”

Rand didn’t speak again, but his stride slowed, just a little. Elyndria moved closer, not needing words. Her presence alone was steadying, and she let herself offer that—solid ground beneath his feet, a quiet reminder that he didn’t have to face whatever was coming alone.

Chapter 26: Sand and Dust

Notes:

I would love to have people’s opinions or ideas about what could come next in elyndria’s journey for season 3 or something they would love to see happen.

The landscape began to shift more dramatically as the days passed. Forests thinned into sparse copses. The greens dulled into golds and browns, then into dusty gray. Hills stretched long and bare, casting jagged shadows under a searing sun. The wind grew dry, harsh, pulling at cloaks and lips, whispering strange things in the silence of the Waste’s edge. At night, they huddled close to the fire. Lan hunted when he could, often returning with game slung over his shoulder and dust caked at his boots. Rand joined him sometimes, silent and focused, his movements sharp with tension. Moiraine rarely rested—when she wasn’t weaving quiet wards around their camp, she was staring eastward, her thoughts as veiled as her face.

Egwene practiced channeling every evening, her weaves more complex now, her confidence growing with each successful attempt. Aviendha watched her with sharp interest, often folding her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing whenever Egwene tried something new. Elyndria wondered if she saw something of the Wise Ones in Egwene—or if it unsettled her to see Aes Sedai strength growing so quickly outside her own traditions. But it was Rand, Elyndria stayed close to. He did not ask it of her—he rarely asked anything at all—but she felt the pull of the bond like gravity. When the dreams twisted him in the dark, she was there. When the doubts pressed close behind his thoughts, she was the voice in his silence.

And sometimes, when no one else was near, he would take her hand, just for a moment. No words. Just a tether to hold onto. The nights turned colder still as they approached the base of the Spine of the World. Massive peaks rose before them, their jagged faces crowned in snow and shadow. Even the wind changed here—thinner, sharper, as if testing them. One evening, as they camped beneath a towering cliffside, Elyndria stood at the edge of the firelight, her gaze following the stars that stretched wide above them, clear and countless. Rand stepped beside her, his presence settling quietly at her side. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, his voice broke the stillness—low, tired. “Lanfear was in my dreams last night.”

Elyndria exhaled slowly, a heavy sigh slipping from her lips. “She’ll never leave you alone, you know. She’s fascinated by you.”

Rand rolled his eyes, the motion subtle but unmistakable. “She’s still holding a candle for Lews Therin. Any interest she has in me is because we share the same soul.”

Elyndria hummed quietly, her gaze fixed on the stars. “I just worry. Moiraine told me a little about her… when Lews was alive, she never gave up on him. Even after he chose Ilyena. She always tried to pull him back to her.”

Rand’s hand lifted, fingers brushing gently through Elyndria’s loose, wavy hair, twirling a strand between them with idle care. The touch was absent-minded, but comforting, grounding. “You shouldn’t worry,” he said softly. “Lews never turned his eye back to her. And as for me… all I ever felt for her in the Foregate was friendship. Curiosity, maybe. That’s all.”

Elyndria didn’t answer right away. Her lips pressed into a thoughtful line, but she held her tongue.

Rand may have only seen friendship in Lanfear’s attentions—but Lanfear certainly hadn’t. Elyndria had seen the way her eyes traced the shape of Rand’s figure when they first encountered her at the inn. The way she lingered too close, too long. Whatever love she once held for Lews Therin hadn’t died with him. It had only twisted, sharpened into something else—and now, it followed Rand like a shadow. It was quiet for a moment, only the distant wind stirring the silence.

Then Rand tugged gently on a strand of Elyndria’s hair, coaxing her attention back to him. She turned her head to look at him, her expression curious, soft.

“Your dreams,” he said, hesitantly. “Have you had more of them?”

Elyndria could sense what he meant, even if he didn’t say it aloud. He wanted to know if she had seen more of Lews Therin—if the dreams had revealed more about the burning castle, the echo of a past that haunted them both in shadows and fire. She shook her head slowly, brushing hair behind her ear. “Not like the ones I was having before,” she murmured. “I’ve had others, though… only a few. But they’ve been good dreams.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “They make me feel happy. Content.”

Rand tilted his head slightly, watching her.

“Sometimes I’m playing tag with someone outside the castle,” she continued softly. “I never see his face. But I can recognize his laugh now.” Her voice grew more tender. “Lews Therin. And the way I feel when he’s near… like the world makes sense.”

Her words faded for a moment, her expression shifting, as if she were debating whether to continue. Then she ducked her head, a flush creeping up her cheeks.

Rand’s eyebrows lifted in interest, the corners of his mouth twitching. He reached out and tapped her chin with a single finger, gently coaxing her to meet his eyes. “Come on,” he teased lightly. “Don’t stop there. You’ve piqued my interest now.”

Elyndria looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with both embarrassment and amusement. The firelight danced on her face as she admitted, in a rush, “Sometimes I’m humming a song… and rocking a cradle.”

Rand’s expression stilled, surprise flickering across his features. His breath caught faintly before he let out a soft, shaky grin. “At least you’re seeing the good things in Ilyena’s life now,” he said, voice thick with something he didn’t name.

Elyndria nodded and leaned into him, nestling against his side. Rand’s arms slipped around her instinctively, holding her close, the embrace both protective and quietly aching. “I don’t remember every detail of my dreams,” she whispered into the space between them. “But I remember how Ilyena felt. She was so happy.” Rand didn’t speak. He just held her tighter. Through the bond, Elyndria could feel his emotions swirling—a mix of warmth and a deep, inescapable sorrow.

Elyndria nestled closer into Rand’s embrace, her cheek pressed against the warmth of his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. But her thoughts drifted, deeper and darker, into the places the dreams hadn’t dared to go. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was—that even though Ilyena had been happy with Lews Therin, had loved him, had built a life and family with him… her life had ended by his hand. Twisted by madness, torn apart by the taint on saidin.

A pain bloomed quietly in her chest.

She remembered the look on Rand’s face that night, when he had used his power against the doppelgängers—so much fury, so much desperation. She had seen the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, something hollow and ancient. And it had taken her voice, her hands on him, her pleading, to bring him back from the edge.

She clutched him tighter now, as if she could keep the madness away with the strength of her grip alone.

Rand will not be like Lews Therin, she told herself fiercely.

She knew him. She had walked beside him. She had seen the weight he carried, the choices he made every day not to let that weight crush him. She loved him not for the power he held, but for the man beneath it—the one who smiled when she laughed, who cried for his friends, who reached for her in the dark when nightmares came.

Rand was not blind to what the saidin could do. He knew the consequences of each thread he wove, each fire he called into being. That knowledge lived in him like a scar—constant, aching, but grounding. Unlike Lews Therin, who had not understood what had been done to him, who had walked blindly into the madness seeded by the Dark One’s prison, Rand bore his burden with his eyes wide open.

Elyndria felt the subtle shift in the bond, a whispering fear curling around her heart like a dark cloud. It wasn’t loud or frantic, but it was there, steady and insistent—his worry. His fear.

Would I become like Lews Therin? The question echoed quietly, an undercurrent to everything else in him. It wasn’t something he had said, not in words, but it was clear in the tremor of his thoughts, the subtle tension in his chest. The fear that one day, despite all his attempts to hold onto himself, he might slip. That the madness would take root, like it had with Lews. That he might, despite all his best efforts, lose control of the power coursing through him and become the monster he feared he could be.

She pressed closer to him, her arms tightening around him as if she could shield him from the weight of that fear. She knew it wasn't just about the saidin, but about the man—the choice he made every moment, to stay grounded, to choose the light, even when the darkness threatened to swallow him.

You won’t, she thought fiercely, the words more for herself than for him, even as she let her voice carry through the bond. You’ll never be like him.

His chest rose with a shuddering breath, and she felt the slight tremor in his hands, still resting lightly on her. The subtle shift of uncertainty, as though he wasn’t sure if he truly believed her.

"Rand," she whispered softly, lifting her chin to meet his gaze, "I know you. I know you better than anyone. And I know you’re not like him. You fight the darkness every day, and you will keep fighting."

He didn’t reply at first, his eyes dark with thoughts she couldn’t reach. The bond hummed between them, and she could feel his heart—a little erratic now, a little broken.

But there was more there, too. Something strong. Something his.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft murmur against her forehead, his words betraying the quiet terror he carried with him. "What if I can’t keep fighting it, Elyndria? What if I lose myself in it?"

She took his face in her hands, her touch firm but gentle, her eyes locked on his. "You will never lose yourself.” She pressed her forehead to his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the weight of his burden, and the love they shared, a quiet promise between them. "You will never be alone in this, Rand. I won’t let you be. You friends won’t either."

A long silence stretched out between them, filled with unspoken fears, unvoiced doubts, but also a steady certainty that they would face whatever came together.

Rand let out a breath, slow and deep, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little steadier, though still tinged with the worry that whispered in the back of his mind. "Maybe… maybe you’re right." He paused, as if unsure of his own words. "But I can’t help but fear it, Elyndria. I’m not like Lews Therin. But I am him, in a way. The same soul. The same power. What if it happens again?"

Elyndria closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his fear curl around her, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she held him tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "It won’t," she whispered against his skin. "Because we’re not them. And we’ll make sure of it. Together."

And as she held him, the echo of his fear began to fade, softened by the unspoken bond they shared, a bond that, no matter what, would always be stronger than the darkness they both feared. Rand remained quiet for a long moment, his breath steadying against the soft rhythm of her heartbeat. Elyndria could feel him, the subtle shifts in his thoughts, the lingering threads of doubt that refused to let go. Yet, slowly, she could feel the bond between them strengthen again, the storm inside him calming just a little.

He sighed deeply, the sound soft but filled with the weight of everything he was carrying. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured, his voice a mix of gratitude and confusion. “How you can always be so certain, so sure of me, when I can’t even trust myself.”

Elyndria tilted her head back slightly, meeting his gaze. The uncertainty in his eyes tugged at her heart. It was the same fear he had been carrying for so long—what if he couldn’t live up to the hope others had for him? What if he failed, as Lews Therin had?

“Because I know you,” she said softly, her voice firm but warm. “I know who you are, Rand. Not just the man with the power, not just the man the world needs you to be. But the you that is still here, beneath all of that.”

Rand looked at her for a long moment, searching her face as though trying to understand, as though trying to find the truth in her eyes. For a second, she thought he might say something more, but instead, he simply nodded.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words soft and almost self-deprecating.

Elyndria smiled, a small, tender thing. “You don’t have to deserve me. You have me, whether you think you do or not.”

He was quiet again, and for a moment, they simply stood together, in the quiet stillness of the night. The fire crackled softly beside them, the wind carrying the scent of dry earth and the distant mountains ahead. The stars above seemed to watch them, distant and ancient.

But even with the uncertainty that lingered in the air, something between them had shifted. She could feel it—the soft pulse of the bond, the steady warmth of his presence that anchored her just as much as she anchored him.

Rand cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I just… I don’t want to become like him. I can’t. I can’t be that. I’ve seen what it does, what it did to Lews Therin. And I won’t let it happen to me. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

Elyndria’s heart ached at the rawness of his words. He was carrying such a heavy weight, a burden that no one should ever have to bear. She cupped his face gently, brushing her thumb across his cheek, grounding him in the moment.

“You won’t, Rand,” she whispered again. “You won’t. And I’ll help you, every step of the way. Whatever happens, we face it together.”

He closed his eyes at her touch, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. When he opened them again, he was looking at her with something softer in his gaze. “Thank you,” he murmured.

She shook her head, smiling softly. “No need to thank me. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Rand chuckled quietly, the sound warm but edged with something that still lingered deep inside him. He wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close. And for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only a little.

The fear was still there, nestled in the corners of their hearts, but for now, in this moment, they had each other. And that was enough.

Elyndria pulled back slightly, her voice teasing but sincere. “Now, get some rest, Rand. You’re going to need it for the rest of our journey towards the Waste. I’m sure you’re going to want to have all your strength for whatever comes next.”

Rand raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward in a half-smile. “You make it sound like something is coming.”

She returned his smile, her eyes sparkling with the same quiet confidence she always felt around him. “Oh, I’m sure of it. But we’ll face it, like we always do.”

And as the fire burned low behind them and the wind whispered softly through the trees, Elyndria knew one thing above all else: they would face whatever came, side by side.

---

The sun beat down from a sky so wide and cloudless it seemed endless. The world around them had become a shifting sea of wind-scoured rock and dry earth, punctuated only by scraggly brush and the occasional lonely hawk circling overhead. They had been traveling for nearly a month now—on foot for most of it, save the rare occasion they passed a village where they could barter for rest or a brief ride.

The terrain grew harsher with each passing day, and the roads they followed narrowed into ancient, weather-worn paths that twisted through the foothills leading to the Spine of the World. The land whispered of age, of trials, of things forgotten. It was not just a journey of distance anymore. It was a slow shedding of the familiar.

Elyndria had grown leaner with the travel, more sun-touched. Her boots were worn, her cloak dust-crusted at the hem, and her braid was always coming loose in the dry wind. But she didn’t mind. There was something honest in the hardship—something grounding.

They had all changed.

Lan was still quiet, still watchful, but he smiled more easily now. Egwene’s laughter had returned in flashes, and Aviendha, for all her sharpness, had started to ask questions instead of just observing. Moiraine remained distant, though Elyndria sometimes caught her watching Rand with something more like hope in her eyes.

And Rand...

Rand was changing most of all.

There was a steadiness in him now that hadn't been there in the beginning—not the brittle control born of fear, but something quieter, heavier. The way he moved, the way he looked at the horizon as if trying to see what lay beyond it… it spoke of a man shouldering more than his own fate. Elyndria could feel it through the bond. His emotions used to shift like storm tides—flashes of fear, anger, confusion. Now they simmered beneath the surface, deep and measured. But still there were moments—when his hand tightened on his sword hilt, or when a hawk’s cry made him flinch just slightly—when she felt the shadow creeping close.

That morning, as they picked their way along a narrow ledge carved into the red rock of a canyon wall, Elyndria walked beside Aviendha. The Aiel woman’s gaze swept the cliffs above them, always alert, but she spoke softly.

“You do not complain,” Aviendha said, not quite a question.

Elyndria glanced over, smiling faintly. “Should I?”

Aviendha shrugged. “Most wetlanders would have. You bleed from your feet, but still you walk.”

“Because if I stopped, I’d fall behind. And I don’t like falling behind.”

Aviendha gave a short nod, something like approval in her expression. “You’re not weak. Not like I thought.”

Elyndria raised an eyebrow. “You thought I was weak?”

“You followed him with your eyes like a da’tsang girl,” Aviendha replied bluntly. “But now… I think you would follow him through fire.”

Elyndria chuckled, a little self-conscious. “Maybe I would.”

Aviendha looked away, the faintest smile curving her lips. “That is good. He will need fire beside him.”

Later, as the sun began to sink and the air cooled to a dry chill, they stopped in the shadow of a jagged rock formation that half-resembled a broken crown. Lan, Eviendha and Moiraine moved off to scout higher ground, and Egwene sat cross-legged, practicing threads of Air with her eyes closed.

Elyndria joined her, brushing dust off her cloak and sinking to the ground beside her.

“Have you figured out how to do that shield weave Moiraine showed you yet?” she asked.

Egwene groaned and flopped back in the dirt. “Almost. I think. Every time I think I have it, it slips through my fingers like water.”

“You’ll get it.” Elyndria nudged her with a smile. “You’re a thousand times further along than I was when I first tried to embrace saidar.”

Egwene peeked up at her. “That’s not saying much, is it?”

They both laughed, and for a moment it was easy—like they were just two girls camped under the stars, not threads in the great Pattern.

But Rand sat alone at the edge of the group, staring toward the darkening east. Elyndria could feel the tightness in him even from across the fire. She rose quietly and walked to him, sitting beside him in the growing gloom. “You’re far away,” she said gently.

Rand blinked, as if surfacing from some deep thought. “Just thinking.”

“About Rhuidean?”

He nodded slowly. “About what I’ll see there. What I’ll learn. What I’ll become.”

“You’re not alone,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, and then reached over, threading his fingers through hers. “That’s the only reason I haven’t run yet.”

They sat in silence as night fell, the stars emerging one by one above them. Somewhere, a desert owl called out across the rocky expanse. As sleep pulled at the edges of their minds, Elyndria closed her eyes, thinking of dreams where laughter rang through flower-filled courtyards and lullabies echoed in quiet nurseries. She would walk this path beside him, no matter how far it led into the desert or into prophecy’s grip.

And she hoped that Rand, despite all the uncertainty before him, knew one thing with ironclad clarity; he didn’t have to face the future alone.

---

The sun hung heavy in the sky, merciless and unflinching. Elyndria squinted against its glare, her skin already prickling with heat, sweat gathering at her temples beneath the edge of her scarf. She sat cross-legged in the shade of a jagged boulder, beside Egwene, their eyes trained on the two men sparring in the open. Lan and Rand moved in a deadly rhythm—steel meeting steel with a grace that belied the raw strength behind their strikes. Lan was all precision and silence, a flowing shadow in motion. Rand fought with more edge, more force. His movements were powerful, less refined, but growing sharper with each passing day. He was learning quickly. Too quickly.

Elyndria’s gaze narrowed on Rand’s stance, the way his body turned slightly too much to the side when deflecting a high blow. She itched to correct it.

“I remember my own training,” she murmured, brushing dust from her knee. “The Green Ajah didn’t believe in coddling. I was barely eighteen when they first put a sword in my hand. Thought I could rely on the Power too much. So they knocked me down, again and again, until I learned the feel of steel in my bones.” Her lips quirked in a half-smile. “Brute strength and bloodied knuckles. No mercy.”

Beside her, Egwene made a low sound of amusement. “The White Tower certainly doesn’t coddle,” she said, her voice dry. “They’re more likely to break you down than build you up. Especially if you ask too many questions.”

Moiraine approached silently, settling on a flat stone beside them with her usual grace. Her hair was hidden underneath a large sunhat, her ageless face unreadable. Her eyes were on Lan and Rand. “That is because the Tower wants warriors,” she said softly. “Not children fumbling with power they do not understand. The world is too dangerous for softness now.”

Egwene’s mouth tightened. “Maybe they’d have more female channelers willing to stay if the Tower wasn’t so stifling. Cold. Controlling.”

A brief silence followed her words. The sun buzzed around them, insects flitting lazily in the dry air. Elyndria glanced sideways, but Moiraine’s expression didn’t shift.

Then, quietly, Moiraine said, “He has been quiet lately.” Her gaze flicked to Elyndria, then Egwene. “Have either of you noticed anything? Since Tal Valor?”

Egwene’s lips parted, a protest rising. “I’m not here to spy on Rand for you, Moiraine. I’m here because he needs us. Because I care about him.”

“That is helping him,” Moiraine said, her tone calm but firm. “You and Elyndria are the closest to him in this group. You will see the signs first—if he begins to falter. If the madness starts to take hold.”

Elyndria opened her mouth, weary, “Moiraine…”

“Don’t brush off my concerns, Elyndria,” Moiraine said, turning to her now, her voice lowering but losing none of its steel. “You know what I fear. You felt it. You told me yourself it took you pleading through the bond to stop him from using saidin that night. And you know better than anyone what comes with the madness. What he could become.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened. She looked back to Rand, who had paused now to take a breath, wiping sweat from his brow as Lan offered a correction.

Yes, she knew what Moiraine was hinting at. She didn’t need the words to remember what she’d seen in her dreams—the shining castle engulfed in fire, the bodies laying crumbled in the halls and the bloodied hands of Lews Therin.

“I know,” she said quietly, the words tasting like ash. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Aviendha strode over with a bloodied desert hare swinging from her hand, sweat glistening on her brow and a smirk tugging at her lips. “She was almost faster than me,” she announced with pride, holding the hare up for the others to see.

Elyndria raised an eyebrow. “Almost?”

Aviendha gave a small, satisfied nod. “Almost.”

From the clearing, Rand let out a sharp grunt as Lan’s blade swept in a practiced arc toward his shoulder. He parried just in time, breathing heavily, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. His muscles trembled with fatigue, but he didn’t slow.

Aviendha looked toward him, unimpressed. “Why does he waste his time with swords?” she muttered, casting a glance at the rest of the women. “They are not the Aiel way. When was the last time anyone caught their supper with a sword?” She chuckled softly and dropped the hare near the fire pit.

Egwene frowned, arms folding across her chest. “Can’t you see he’s trying? He’s doing his best to prepare.”

“We’re on our way to the Aiel Waste,” Aviendha replied coolly, brushing her hands on her trousers. “You wouldn’t understand. Your wetland prophecies are all so clean. So easy. Your Dragon will either save the world or destroy it.”

Moiraine, who had been silent through most of the exchange, finally spoke, her gaze sharp and inquisitive. “Aiel prophecies don’t say the same?”

Aviendha hesitated, her eyes following Rand as he sparred. Lan had stepped back now, offering advice, and Rand stood with his hands on his hips, nodding silently. “No,” Aviendha said quietly. “They do not.” She turned back to the group, her voice lower, more somber. “The Car’a’carn shall spill out the blood of those who call themselves Aiel as water on sand, and break them as dried twigs. Yet the remnant of a remnant the Car’a’carn shall save, and they shall live.”

A shiver went down Elyndria’s spine at the words. The firelight played across Aviendha’s face as she spoke, her features hard, resolved. “Our Car’a’carn is creation and destruction wrapped in one. Balanced.”

Elyndria glanced toward Rand again. He was leaning against a rock now, laughing softly at something Lan said, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked… tired. Worn, even under the sunlight. But present. Fighting. Always fighting.

“It is my duty,” Aviendha continued, her voice steady but tinged with something like sorrow, “to return Rand al’Thor to the Three-fold Land, to my home, so that he may save my people—and destroy them.”

The silence between them stretched taut like a drawn bowstring.

Aviendha looked back at the hare, then the sword glinting at Rand’s side. Her voice dropped into something nearly a whisper. “The prophecy does not say that I must enjoy the task.” Egwene shifted uncomfortably, and Moiraine’s eyes searched Aviendha’s face, her own unreadable.

Elyndria stayed seated long after Aviendha had gone, the desert wind tugging gently at her loose braid. Egwene shifted beside her, silent, contemplative, her eyes still on Rand as he stood, wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, and gave Lan a tired nod of thanks.

The world felt very still for a moment—too still. The kind of stillness that came before something changed. Something cracked.

Elyndria’s gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the jagged ridges of the Spine of the World loomed in the distance like the bones of a long-dead god. The Waste awaited them. And in it, prophecy, blood, and answers none of them were sure they wanted.

Aviendha’s voice lingered in her memory: “Our Car'a'carn is creation and destruction wrapped in one. Balanced.”

She closed her eyes briefly, drawing in a breath laced with dust and heat. Creation and destruction. Hope and ruin. A savior and a sword. That was what Rand was to the Aiel. That was what he was to all of them. To the world. And yet he was also just… Rand. A boy from the Two Rivers who smiled when she made a dry joke. Who tugged gently at her braid to tease her when her thoughts wandered. Who pressed his forehead to hers when nightmares threatened to unravel her. Who carried the weight of every step forward like it might be his last, and kept walking anyway.

It is my duty to return Rand al'Thor to the Three-fold Land, to my home, so that he may save my people and destroy them.

Elyndria swallowed the knot in her throat. How could anyone carry that prophecy and not break under it?

She understood Aviendha more clearly now. Underneath her pride, beneath her strength, she feared what they were all walking toward. Because the man they loved—whether as friend, savior, or something deeper—was marching toward a future written in blood. One he might not come back from.

And Moiraine…

Elyndria’s shoulders tensed.

You know better than anyone what that means… the more he channels, the more mad he will go.

Moiraine was not wrong. She had seen it—felt it—when Rand unleashed the One Power at Tal Valor. The storm of saidin had twisted through him like a cyclone, raw and wild, devouring everything in its path. And he had smiled, gods, he had smiled, not out of joy, but out of desperation. Like wielding it was the only thing keeping him standing. It had been Elyndria’s voice through the bond—pleading, soothing, begging—that had finally made him let go. And even then, he had collapsed, shaking.

Elyndria was broken out of her throughts as Egwene stood up and walked towards the campfire, intending to help Aviendha prepare the hare for dinner. Elyndria took a deep breath and turned her attention back to Moiraine, who stood some distance away, her gaze fixed on Rand and Lan as they practiced their swordplay. The expression on Moiraine’s face was one of frustration—tight-lipped and furrowed brow.

Elyndria couldn’t help herself. She took a step closer to the Aes Sedai, her voice low but pointed. “You know, you wouldn’t be so frustrated if you didn’t ignore Rand.”

Moiraine’s face tightened immediately, the coldness in her gaze shifting momentarily. But she didn’t respond. The silence between them stretched, thick with the weight of unspoken words. Elyndria sighed, feeling the exhaustion from the journey pressing against her chest, mixing with the frustration that always simmered beneath the surface when it came to Moiraine and Rand.

“Light, I don’t know who’s more infuriatingly stubborn,” Elyndria muttered under her breath. “You or Rand.”

Moiraine sniffed, her gaze never leaving the two men locked in combat. “I am not being stubborn,” she said sharply, though the words lacked the conviction they once had. “I just don’t understand why he’s going to Lan to learn how to fight with a sword when instead he should be learning how to channel. He was learning with you in Foregate.”

Elyndria frowned, her heart twisting with the implications of Moiraine’s words. “That was before everything, Moiraine,” she said quietly, her eyes now fixed on Rand as he deftly dodged a swipe from Lan’s sword, his muscles rippling with effort. “He was only learning to keep himself—and me—safe. But now… now he has to learn how to protect the whole world with the One Power, to fight the Dark One’s shadows. It’s completely different.”

Moiraine shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “It is not different. He is learning to channel either way. His power won’t go away.”

Elyndria felt the weight of those words. She understood what Moiraine was saying, but it wasn’t the full picture. “He’s scared, Moiraine,” Elyndria whispered sharply, glancing back at Rand as he lowered his sword after narrowly avoiding another strike. His breath came in shallow, controlled gasps, but Elyndria could see the tension in his body, the flicker of something deeper beneath the surface.

“You talk about us keeping an eye on Rand because every time he channels, he risks going mad,” Elyndria continued, her voice growing more intense. “He knows the consequences better than anyone, especially now, after I told him about Ilyena.”

Moiraine’s expression faltered, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. “And that night in Tar Valon,” Elyndria went on, her voice trembling slightly, “when he was channeling, fighting his doppelgangers... the way he felt after he broke out of his own compulsion, when using the One Power… he was terrified and worried, Moiraine.”

Moiraine’s lips parted, but no words came out, her gaze shifting between Rand and Elyndria. Elyndria’s heart pounded as she thought back to that night—the night when Rand had been forced to face the darkest parts of himself. The echoes of his terror, the rawness of it, still lingered in her mind. She had seen it. Felt it through the bond.

“He’s terrified of what he might become, I can feel it in the bond” Elyndria continued, her voice strained. “And no matter how much you push him to train with the One Power, he’s not going to be able to face it alone. He needs more than just you telling him how to control it. He needs something... someone... to remind him he’s still Rand.”

Moiraine didn’t reply immediately, her eyes scanning the space between Rand and Lan, as though she were trying to decipher the layers of conflict written into every movement they made. The silence stretched, both of them wrapped in their own unspoken fears. After a long pause, Moiraine exhaled, the tension in her posture easing slightly. “I know you’re right,” she said quietly, her voice so soft it was almost lost to the wind. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he must learn to control the One Power, Elyndria. If he doesn’t—if he doesn’t—he could destroy everything. We’ve already seen how fragile everything is. I can’t… I can’t let him risk that.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, understanding the depth of Moiraine’s concern. She felt it too. But there was something else, something Moiraine was missing.

“You’re not the only one who’s terrified, Moiraine,” Elyndria said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We all are. But pushing him away isn’t the answer. You aren’t the only one who’s watched him struggle. I have too. Just try and speak with him, please”

Moiraine met her gaze for a moment, and for the first time, Elyndria saw a flicker of something softer in her eyes—maybe even guilt.

“Maybe you’re right,” Moiraine murmured finally, turning her eyes back to Rand.

But Elyndria could see the doubt lingering there, the cracks in Moiraine’s usually unflappable demeanor. She knew, as much as Moiraine tried to deny it, they were all walking this path together. And none of them had the answers. Elyndria watched the sun begin its descent, casting long shadows across the camp. The heat of the day was starting to fade, but the tension in the air didn’t. She glanced at Rand and Lan, their blades flashing as they practiced their moves. Even from here, she could sense the weight of Rand’s concentration—his every move deliberate, but there was something more to it.

She turned away, knowing that it wasn’t just the fight he was preparing for. It was everything that came with it. Everything they were all walking toward, together.

But for Elyndria, it was more than that.

She could feel the bond between her and Rand, strong and unyielding. It wasn’t just the weight of his power or his burden as the Dragon Reborn that bound them—it was their shared experiences, the quiet moments between the chaos, and the understanding that passed without words. When she thought of the soul of Ilyena that she carried, the memories of another life that sometimes rose unbidden, she no longer saw them as a shadow. They were a part of her, yes, but they did not define her. She was Elyndria. And in the space between her and Rand, she had found herself—not just as his companion, but as someone who had her own strength, her own purpose.

The thought of standing beside him wasn’t one of obligation—it was a choice. A choice she made every day, just as he did.

Her thoughts drifted to the way his eyes softened when they shared those quiet moments, the way he didn’t shrink from the weight of the bond between them. He didn’t see her as a mere echo of Ilyena, but as Elyndria, a woman with her own heart, her own fight. A woman who stood beside him, not behind him.

She breathed in deeply, feeling the connection hum softly in the back of her mind. She had never felt more certain of her place—by his side, in this fight, in this world that was growing darker by the day. As the light began to fade, Elyndria looked at Rand again, her heart steady. Whatever came, she would face it with him, because she had chosen this path, and there was no one else she wanted to walk it with.

---

The fire crackled in the cool night, its warmth flickering against the deep shadows that stretched across the camp. The stars, faint and distant, barely made an impression against the vast, ink-black sky, and the moon hung low, a sliver barely visible. Elyndria leaned against Rand, her head resting against his shoulder. His presence was a quiet comfort in the midst of the chaos, the uncertain journey ahead, and the unspoken weight of their shared burden. The stew they had eaten, simple and bland, had satisfied her hunger but left something still unsettled, a tension she couldn’t quite shake.

She had watched Rand and Moiraine earlier, engaged in one of their rare conversations. She hadn't overheard much, but the tension had been palpable—their words, though hushed, felt sharp, and Elyndria had sensed a growing distance between them, a subtle crack in the fragile understanding that had once tied them together. It wasn’t as though either had stormed off or raised their voices, but the disconnect was there, hanging heavy in the air.

Now, sitting with Rand, the quiet between them felt less pressing, but still palpable. She nestled closer to him, the heat from his body a steadying presence. His strength, his calm, reminded her that no matter what they faced, she wasn’t alone.

"How did it go, talking to Moiraine?" Elyndria asked softly, her voice almost drowned out by the crackle of the fire. She didn’t need to say more—Rand knew exactly what she meant.

Rand’s gaze flickered down to her, and he shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned back. His expression was hard to read, a mixture of frustration and something deeper that he hadn’t quite let go of. He shrugged, making her body jostle slightly with the movement. "As good as it ever gets when talking to her," he muttered. "She asked why I’d rather train with Lan than with her. I suppose she’s a bit jealous."

Elyndria smirked, but it was a soft, understanding smile. "Jealous? More like confused. Moiraine hates being confused."

Rand gave a low chuckle, though it lacked humor. "You could say that. She doesn’t like not having the answers, especially when it comes to me."

Elyndria nodded, picking at her stew absentmindedly. She knew how Moiraine could be, how the Aes Sedai’s sharp mind always sought clarity, sought control over everything around her. "Did you tell her why?" Elyndria asked gently, her curiosity piqued but her tone soft, careful not to push too much.

Rand’s gaze drifted away, focusing on the flames, as if they held the answers. He licked his lips and then let out a long sigh, clearly grappling with how to phrase it. "I did… I told her. I explained what it feels like to channel the way she wants me to. Back in Forgate, it was easier. Smaller weaves, nothing that could get out of hand. But now, every time I try, it’s like I can’t control it. What starts small always grows bigger. And when it gets bigger, it’s harder to resist the pull of the One Power."

Elyndria's heart ached hearing him admit it so openly. She reached out, her fingers gently curling around his hand, grounding him just as his presence had grounded her earlier. “It can be addicting,” she whispered. “I understand that feeling—the power, the thrill of it. The way it courses through you and pulls you in, wanting more.”

Rand nodded slowly, his eyes still on the fire, lost in thought. "When you channel, what do you see?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

Elyndria hesitated, her gaze following the flicker of the flames as they danced in the night air. What did she see when she channeled? The question felt more complicated now than it ever had before, but she had always been honest with Rand, and this time wouldn’t be any different. "When I channel…" she began, her voice low, thoughtful. "There’s light. Bright, pure light that fills me, wraps around me, and I feel... whole.”

Rand’s lips twisted into something between a frown and a bitter smile. "See, when I weave… it’s the same. The light is there, yes, but with each weave, there’s always a shadow. It’s like something that follows me, something dark that lurks at the edges of the light. And I can feel it, that darkness, getting harder to ignore, harder to resist.”

Elyndria squeezed his hand tighter, her heart aching with understanding. She didn’t know if she could ever fully grasp the weight of what Rand carried, but she could feel the fear he faced each time he channeled, the constant tug between light and darkness.

"You’re not alone in this, Rand," she whispered, her voice steady but warm. "We’re all here for you. We’ll help you learn how to control it. You just have to trust us. Especially Moiraine. She’s the most skilled Aes Sedai we have in this group. If anyone can help you, it’s her." Rand's jaw tightened, his gaze lingering on the fire, the shadows flickering across his face. He didn’t speak immediately, but Elyndria could see his muscles relax just slightly, the tension easing in his posture as if her words were a lifeline he hadn’t realized he needed.

"You have us, Rand," she continued, her voice soft but firm. "And you have Moiraine. Trust her. She knows more than anyone about how dangerous this is—and she won’t let you fall."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the crackling of the fire filling the air between them. Elyndria didn’t know if her words had made the difference, but she hoped they had. She hoped that, in this moment, he might feel just a little bit lighter, a little less burdened by the fear and uncertainty that always seemed to hover over him.

They would face whatever came next together, with their friends at their side, and the strength of their bond carrying them through the darkness.

Chapter 27: Blood in the sand

Notes:

Thank you all so much for the kind words and excitement—it’s been such a joy reading your thoughts!

Elyndria’s journey is only just beginning. Her dreams are starting to shift, her connection to the One Power is deepening in unexpected ways, and she’s beginning to see glimpses of something…in her own past.

Plenty more to come. Let’s just say she’s far from done kicking ass.

The wind howled through the rocky pass, the sound carrying with it the dry, biting air of the Aiel Waste. The heat of the sun beat down on them, relentless as they pushed forward through the rocky mountains, their bodies aching with the constant strain of travel. Elyndria could feel the soreness in her limbs, the roughness of the terrain that had begun to take its toll. She was no stranger to traveling long distances, but this was something else—too fast, too little rest, and the constant motion left her feeling as though the very earth itself was pulling at her.

As they trudged on, she caught sight of a narrow opening between the jagged hills up ahead. The sight was both a relief and a sense of foreboding—an entrance to the Waste, the land of the Aiel. Moiraine’s voice broke the silence, quiet but certain. “The Aiel Waste.”

Elyndria breathed out slowly, the tension in her chest easing just a little. Finally. The journey had taken them far, but they had arrived. For a moment, the weariness seemed to lift from her, only to return with a more intense weight. The Aiel Waste was both a place of mystery and danger, a land known for its harshness. But it was also where they needed to be. Her body, sore from the days of relentless travel, sagged in relief, but the sudden change in the atmosphere drew her attention. The dry heat seemed to press harder against her, the weight of the land itself heavy and unyielding.

Then, as if summoned by the tension in the air, they saw her—Aviendha, running toward them, her movements swift and purposeful. She had been scouting ahead, keeping watch over the group as they made their way toward the Waste. Her face was set in a determined expression, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that Elyndria could recognize—a warning of something to come.

“Who did you tell we were coming here?” Aviendha demanded, her tone sharp. She didn’t sound worried—no, there was no fear in her voice—but there was something unsettling in the way she addressed them.

"No one," Lan replied quickly, his voice calm but guarded.

Aviendha’s eyes narrowed, and she repeated, “Who did you tell?” Her gaze darted around, scanning the horizon as though expecting something—or someone.

Before anyone could answer, the ground around them seemed to shift, as if the very rocks themselves were moving. Figures emerged from the shadows of the hills, their forms cloaked in the desert garb of the Aiel. They surrounded them, weapons drawn and poised. Elyndria’s heart skipped a beat, and the hum of saidar thrummed through her veins, instinctively preparing for a confrontation. Her hands twitched, ready, but she held herself still, glancing at Aviendha’s face.

The warrior’s expression was calm, her eyes steely, but there was no sign of fear. Elyndria trusted her—if Aviendha wasn’t alarmed, then neither should she be. But that didn’t stop her body from reacting to the sudden tension in the air.

A hulking man, tall and broad, stepped forward from the group, his gaze fixed on Rand. His eyes studied him with a certain calculation, as though assessing something far deeper than the surface. Elyndria held her breath, waiting, her heart pounding in her chest.

The hulking man glanced behind him and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice. “This is him?” He gestured toward Rand, his eyes scanning him, his tone almost too neutral.

Then, from behind him, an older woman stepped forward. She was tall, her posture regal, but there was a calmness to her movement, a sense of authority that radiated without the need for words. Elyndria could feel her presence—strong, unwavering, and commanding. The older woman’s gaze locked onto Rand, and for a moment, Elyndria couldn’t breathe. It felt as though the woman was peering into Rand’s very soul, her eyes searching for something only she could see.

The hulking man stepped aside as the woman approached Rand, and the air seemed to hold its breath.

“He will come from the west, beyond the Spine of the World,” The woman continued walking forward, her gaze never leaving Rand. “Of the blood but not raised by the blood,” she intoned, her voice carrying a sense of finality, as though each word had been spoken and heard across countless lifetimes. She took another step closer to him, and Elyndria felt a chill run through her, despite the heat of the Waste surrounding them. The woman stopped just short of Rand, her eyes focused on his with an intensity that made Elyndria’s heart race. “He will tie us together with bonds we cannot break,” she said, her voice steady but filled with an ominous weight. “He will take us back home… and he will destroy us.”

Elyndria felt the words hit her like a blow, her chest tightening. The fire of the prophecy burned in the air, and she could feel the weight of it settle over them, heavy and undeniable. For a moment, she was unable to move, as though the very land had frozen around them.

Rand’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he absorbed the woman’s words. Elyndria couldn’t see his face clearly, but she knew he must have felt the power in them. The Aiel stood silent around them, watching, waiting, as the weight of prophecy settled heavily on their shoulders. Elyndria felt a rush of uncertainty flood through her, but she forced it down, steadying herself. They had come this far—there was no turning back now.

“Follow.”

The older woman’s voice had been soft, but it brooked no argument.

The Aiel didn’t wait for confirmation. In perfect silence, they moved—shifting their formation so the group found themselves surrounded on all sides, ringed by veiled faces and spears that gleamed dully under the waning light. There was no threat in the posture, not overtly—but no mercy, either. This was escort… and warning.

Elyndria tightened her grip on the strap of her pack as they began walking, their boots crunching against stone and dust. The older woman led them, flanked by Aviendha and the hulking man who had spoken earlier. Rand was just ahead of her, Egwene at her side, Moiraine and Lan bringing up the rear. The Aiel said nothing. Their footsteps made barely a sound. It was eerie, like walking through a dream one couldn’t wake from.

Lan’s voice broke the silence, pitched low but direct. “How did you know we were coming?”

The hulking man didn’t so much as glance back. “That’s Wise Ones’ business.”

Elyndria looked sharply at the older woman. She moved with the calm assurance of someone born to command—not out of pride, but out of certainty. And Aviendha hadn’t questioned her once.

Is she one of them? Elyndria wondered. Aviendha had spoken of the Wise Ones—women of strength and vision, wielders of respect as easily as others wielded power. The certainty in her movements, the way the Aiel deferred to her… Elyndria was sure of it.

Egwene leaned closer to Elyndria and Rand, her whisper barely audible. “That woman. I swear she was in my dream the other night…”

Before either could respond, the older woman turned her head—just enough to glance back over her shoulder. “No, girl,” she said, her voice cool and steady. “You were in my dream.”

They stopped walking—every one of them. The words hung in the air, thick as dust. Egwene blinked, her mouth slightly open.

Elyndria’s breath caught. She glanced at Rand, who looked just as unsettled. The old woman stared at Egwene for a moment longer, her gaze searching, as though reading something written beneath her skin. Then she turned and resumed walking, the beads in her braids clicking softly as she moved. The Aiel picked up their pace again, and with nowhere else to go, the group followed.

Rand leaned in to Elyndria as they walked. “Did she just—?”

“Yes,” Elyndria muttered. “She did.”

Lan, clearly irritated by the Aiel’s refusal to give more than riddles, had stopped asking questions altogether. Elyndria caught the flicker of his eyes scanning their surroundings constantly, always alert, always calculating. Their whispers dwindled to silence as they pressed deeper into the land. Then, without warning, the hulking man raised one hand high into the air.

The entire column came to a halt.

Before Elyndria could speak, one of the Aiel women near the front snapped, “Be quiet. We are nearing water.”

The tension rippled like a drawn bowstring. The hulking man began gesturing with sharp movements of his fingers—signals that sent several Aiel darting forward with uncanny speed, their spears drawn, eyes sweeping the crags and sands ahead.

Elyndria turned quickly to Aviendha, her voice hushed. “What’s happening?”

Aviendha’s eyes never left the distance as she replied. “More blood has been spilled between clans over water than over gold in the Three-fold Land.”

She said it as though it were a proverb, something learned so early it was burned into her bones. Her hand tightened around her spear as she moved ahead, falling into step beside the other warriors, each one poised for battle though no enemy yet showed. The whistling started next. Sharp, high-pitched calls carried through the rock-strewn valley—signals Elyndria couldn’t interpret. They echoed off the cliffs, answered by others farther off. The Aiel scattered like wind-driven sand, silent and deadly.

Rand, Egwene, Moiraine, Lan, and Elyndria stood close together now, instinct drawing them into a tighter knot. The ground beneath their feet felt too still.

Elyndria looked toward Rand. “Do we follow?”

He met her eyes, nodded once. “We don’t have much choice.”

She glanced back at Egwene, who looked as uneasy as she felt, and then followed after the Aiel, keeping close to Rand’s side as they crossed the threshold into the unknown.

The scent hit Elyndria first. Acrid smoke, burnt wood… and something else beneath it, thicker, metallic. Her steps slowed as they crested a small rise, and she saw them.

Blackened carriages lay in splintered heaps across the sand, their brightly painted sides scorched and broken, half-sunken in the dunes. Smoke still curled from the edges of shattered wheels and cracked frames. Bright scraps of fabric fluttered weakly from splintered poles—reds, yellows, blues—all the colors of joy now draped over charred ruin. Elyndria’s stomach clenched. She had seen caravans like these on the road as a girl when the servants took her out of White Tower for errands—Tuatha’an traders, their wagons vibrant as a painted dream, their laughter spilling through the trees like birdsong. They’d given her sweets once, and stories for nothing more than a smile. Now, here they were. Burned. Still.

Her boots crunched softly in the sand as she walked past the first body.

The man lay curled on his side, his arms wrapped around something Elyndria couldn’t see at first. A doll. Its wooden head cracked, its yarn hair singed. Her heart seized. More bodies lay beneath the open shade of a tattered tent. Flies buzzed thick in the hot air. The scent of death was stronger here, clinging to her tongue, coating the back of her throat. These people had died recently.

"Here's where it started," Aviendha said grimly, standing near the edge of the carnage. Her voice was low, but sharp.

The hulking Aiel man—Rhuarc, Elyndria thought she had heard someone call him—crouched by one of the corpses. He turned the body with practiced care, examining the wounds with a soldier’s eye. Blood had soaked into the bright fabrics they wore, staining everything vivid red.

Lan stepped beside him, his face a mask of stillness. “Tuatha’an,” he said simply.

Egwene gasped, her hand pressed to her mouth. “The Tuatha’an wouldn’t hurt anyone. They don’t even carry weapons.”

“They wouldn’t even raise a hand if they were being cut down,” Elyndria murmured, her eyes burning as she stared at the carnage. “Why would anyone want to kill them?”

“They didn’t run,” Rhuarc said, shaking his head with a sigh. “Most of them just stood there.”

Aviendha pointed further off. “They chased down the ones who did.”

Elyndria followed her gaze, spotting more bodies scattered in the distance—too far to help, too close to forget. They looked small. Young. Her chest tightened.

“Aiel did this?” Egwene asked, horror in her voice.

“No.” Rhuarc’s voice was iron. “It’s forbidden to harm the Lost Ones.”

“The only thing with less honor than refusing to defend yourself,” Aviendha added, “is killing someone who won’t defend themselves.”

She knelt beside a corpse, her hand tugging back the torn fabric of a shirt. “This wound—”

Lan leaned down beside her, his eyes narrowing. “Not a sword,” he said softly. “Look at the edge. Could be a spear, shaped to leave a sword’s mark.”

Aviendha’s jaw tightened. “No Aiel would do this,” she said sharply, her tone flaring with insult.

“The Shaido might,” came the older woman’s voice, calm but firm. She walked slowly to the center of the scene, her gaze sweeping over the dead without flinching. Her face showed no sorrow, but Elyndria saw the flicker of something deeper behind her eyes. Rage. Or grief, too long buried to surface.

“If the Shaido are near,” Rhuarc said, straightening, “we need to go. Now.”

“Who are the Shaido?” Rand asked.

“Another Aiel clan,” Aviendha said, her voice clipped. “They have a blood feud with the Taardad.” She said it with such venom Elyndria glanced at her, surprised. Her spear was still gripped tight in her hand. The Aiel began moving again, slipping away from the scene with eerie ease, their footsteps light even among the dead. Elyndria lingered. She couldn’t look away from a pair of bodies near the edge of the ruined camp—barely more than children. One had a scrap of music pipe clutched in their fingers, broken in two.

“We need to bury them,” Egwene said, her voice trembling with anger and compassion. She looked around at the Aiel, her hands balled into fists. “We can’t just leave them like this.”

One of the Aiel women turned, the same one who had silenced them earlier. Her face was impassive. “They are not worth the time or the stones,” she said coldly. “It’s their own fault they’re dead. And if the Shaido are near, we’d be fools to delay.” She didn’t wait for argument—just turned and walked away, her long strides kicking up sand.

Moiraine gave the bodies a brief glance, her lips pressed in a tight line. Lan’s gaze lingered longer, but he said nothing. Together, they followed after the Aiel. Elyndria watched the hulking man, Rhuarc, pause in his movement. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned. His eyes—hard as flint in the moments before—lingered on Egwene, narrowing as he took in the sorrow etched into her face. He exhaled, barely a sound, a breath lost in the desert wind.

Without a word, he turned and walked to the older woman. “Go on, shade of my heart,” he said softly, bowing his head toward her.

Elyndria watched as he pressed his forehead gently to hers, a gesture so tender and reverent it seemed to quiet the very wind around them. The older woman closed her eyes for a moment, nodding with a faint touch to his shoulder.

“I’ll bury the dead,” Rhuarc said, stepping back, “and meet you at Imre Stand.”

The older woman didn’t argue. She simply turned and looked to Elyndria, Rand, and Egwene. Her dark eyes landed on each of them in turn, calm and unwavering.

“Come,” she said.

Egwene swallowed hard and nodded, licking dry lips before walking to her. She cast one final glance at the bodies as she passed, her hands clenched at her sides. Rand and Elyndria remained behind for a breath longer. The wind tugged softly at her scarf, and the scent of charred wood still clung in the air. Rand looked at Rhuarc, who had already begun his work, gathering stones and kneeling beside the nearest body.

“Rhuidean,” Rand said, his voice low but firm. The Aiel man didn’t look up. He laid a stone beside the arm of a young girl, her bright skirts now faded and stained. “That’s where you’re taking us?” Rand asked. Rhuarc sighed through his nose, a slow breath as he placed another stone at the girl’s feet. He still didn’t reply “I know there’s a trial for me there.”

Now, the Aiel warrior lifted his gaze, meeting Rand’s eyes squarely. His expression was grim but not unkind.

“You know too much… and too little.”

Elyndria felt a shiver slide down her spine. She looked from Rhuarc’s weathered face to the bodies wrapped in color and shadow, and then to Rand—his expression unreadable, his fists clenched at his sides. She gently reached out, brushing her fingers against the back of his hand. He didn’t look at her, but his fingers curled around hers in return, tight and warm. For a moment, they simply stood there—watching a man of war bury a group of people who had never held a weapon.

Then they turned and followed the others, leaving behind the weight of death—and something older, heavier still—beneath the Aiel sun.

---

 

The sun dipped lower behind them, casting long, jagged shadows across the red-gold earth as they walked. Heat still radiated from the cracked ground, but the wind had cooled, brushing against Elyndria’s skin like whispered breath. The group moved in a tight cluster, flanked by silent Aiel, their steps almost too quiet for so many people. Their soft-soled boots barely disturbed the dust, but Elyndria felt the weight of every step. Each one pulled her farther into the Three-fold Land—and toward a future that still felt as foreign as the land itself.

She stole a glance toward Rand, walking just ahead beside Aviendha. His brow was furrowed in thought, eyes locked on the horizon. He looked… heavy. Not just tired, but weighted, as if the very air around him pressed inward. Elyndria knew the feeling. Beside her, Egwene was quiet too. She hadn’t spoken since they left the bodies behind. Her face was unreadable, though her hands twitched now and again as if resisting the urge to wrap herself in saidar.

Ahead, the older woman—a Wise One, Elyndria was now certain—strode like someone born of sand and sun. Unyielding, patient, deliberate. There was no wasted motion, not in her nor any of the Aiel.

They crested a small rise, and Imre Stand came into view.

It wasn’t a village in the way Elyndria had imagined. There were no fences, no carts, no clamor of trade. Just a cluster of large rock formations where water had been drawn once, perhaps still could be. Shelters of pale fabric blended into the stones—hidden unless one knew to look. A faint shimmer in the air marked where water must lie beneath.

“Imre Stand,” Aviendha said softly, coming up beside Elyndria. Her voice was low, her gaze focused forward. “It will give what it can. But not for long.”

Elyndria turned toward her. “And then?”

Aviendha looked at her, a flicker of something unreadable in her brown eyes. “Then we go to Rhuidean. If the Wise Ones allow it.”

“Do you think they will?” Elyndria asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Aviendha didn’t answer right away. Her face was calm, but tension coiled beneath the surface. “For him?” she said, nodding toward Rand. “They must. He is Car’a’carn.”

Elyndria’s mouth felt dry. She looked at Rand’s back again—tall, upright, unaware that the desert seemed to shift around him. “And for the rest of us?” she asked, quieter still.

Now Aviendha turned to her fully. “You are part of his thread. The Pattern won’t let you fall away now.”

Thread. The word sat heavy in Elyndria’s mind. The closer they came to Rhuidean, the more tightly the weave drew around them. They descended into the rocky outcrop of Imre Stand. The Aiel dispersed quickly, silent as windblown sand, some tending to lean-to shelters, others disappearing into shadow. No one called out, no greetings exchanged. It was a place of necessity, not comfort.

Elyndria stopped at the edge, taking it all in.

Rand looked over at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since the trail of stones. His face was lined with exhaustion, but when he saw her, something in his eyes eased.

“Tired?” he asked softly, stepping beside her.

She nodded. “More than I’ve been in a long time.”

“But you’re still standing,” he said with a small smile, echoing her own words from earlier.

She let out a tired laugh and looked away, back at the sun slipping behind the horizon. “Barely.”

The wind curled around them, and for a moment, the stillness of the place felt… sacred. They had reached water. But it was not a haven. Not yet.

The night had deepened, casting long shadows across the quiet camp at Imre Stand. The stars overhead blinked clear and cold, and the ever-present desert breeze whispered over the sand like breath over glass. Most of the Aiel had retreated into their tents or perched silently on outcroppings of stone, keeping quiet vigil. Rand had retired early, exhaustion pulling him into a dreamless sleep in one of the canvas tents the Aiel had offered. Lan and Moiraine had taken the opportunity to visit a separate tent—one where heated stones and steaming water had been turned into a shared bath, a luxury that seemed almost impossible in the heart of the Waste. Elyndria suspected it was more than simple relaxation that drew Moiraine there—perhaps a moment to consider the threads of prophecy that now tangled around them all.

Elyndria remained by the fire, sitting with her knees tucked beneath her cloak, her thoughts heavy. The sight of the Tuatha’an dead still haunted her. Their bright clothing and unarmed bodies lingered behind her eyes, like the afterimage of staring too long into the sun.

Egwene sat beside her, similarly quiet. She poked absently at the fire with a stick, sending a small cascade of sparks drifting upward into the star-swept sky.

“I can’t stop thinking about them,” Elyndria said softly.

Egwene didn’t need to ask who she meant. “They were peaceful,” she murmured. “No weapons. No defense. Whoever did that… I don’t care what clan they’re from. That wasn’t just war. It was slaughter.”

Elyndria nodded, her jaw tightening. “And the Aiel woman just said they weren’t worth the time. Like their lives meant nothing.”

“She was wrong,” Egwene said, then added with a ghost of a smile, “But at least one of them stayed behind.”

Elyndria returned the smile faintly. “There’s hope in that.”

Before Egwene could answer, a presence moved into the edge of the firelight.

The older woman—the one who had spoken with the calm weight of prophecy when they arrived—stood a few paces away, her eyes steady, unreadable. The firelight licked against the folds of her tan robe and glinted faintly off the jewelry at her wrist. She said nothing at first, simply watching them. Elyndria stiffened, her muscles tensing as she met the woman’s gaze. It was not a threatening presence, not exactly. But it was powerful.

“I am Bair,” the woman said at last, her voice a cool wind over warm stone. “Wise One of the Haido sept of the Shaarad Aiel.” Both girls stood instinctively. Elyndria dipped her head slightly. Egwene glanced between them, uncertain. Bair’s gaze swept over them again, slower this time, thoughtful. “You are not of the Aiel,” she said. “Not in blood. But I can feel it in you.”

“Feel what?” Egwene asked, her voice wary.

“The spark. The river that waits inside you. The One Power,” Bair said, her words as sure as iron. “You are both women who can channel.” Elyndria’s heart skipped once in her chest. She opened her mouth, but Bair had already turned her attention fully to Egwene. “You,” she said, lifting a hand. “Stand. I wish to speak to you, girl. About the dream.”

Egwene blinked. “The dream?”

“Yes,” Bair said simply, her eyes sharp now, weighing. “You stepped into a place you did not understand. A place not meant for those untrained.”

Egwene looked like she might protest, but Bair was already turning, striding off toward the darker edges of camp beyond the firelight. Egwene hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as she turned toward Elyndria. “I don’t know what she means,” she whispered.

Elyndria stepped forward and gently took her hand. “You don’t have to. Just listen. You’ve got this.”

Egwene gave her a shaky smile, nodded once, and turned to follow Bair into the darkness.

The fire had burned low when Elyndria finally rose from her seat, the night stretching long and quiet around her. The absence of Egwene beside her made her feel more alone than she’d expected, as though the other girl’s presence had been the last thread tethering her to waking comfort. She moved toward the tent where Rand had retired hours before, her steps slow and quiet. Inside, it was dim but warm. The heavy fabric of the tent muffled the night sounds outside, cocooning them in stillness. Rand lay on one of the bedrolls, one arm flung carelessly over his chest, his breath deep and even in sleep. Moonlight slivered through a narrow gap in the tent flap, catching on the edges of his red-gold hair.

Elyndria undid her cloak and slipped inside, careful not to wake him. She lay down beside him and curled close, breathing in the familiar scent of him—leather, dust, something like sun-warmed pine. His body stirred faintly at her nearness, and he shifted just enough to wrap an arm around her. She pressed her cheek to his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat anchor her.

Sleep came fast. But not peace.

The warmth of Rand’s body faded. Elyndria found herself somewhere else—somewhere far colder.

She was not standing, not this time. She was curled on the ground, knees drawn to her chest, her palms pressed flat against sun-baked stone. Except the warmth beneath her wasn’t just from the earth.

It was from blood.

Three small bodies lay around her—limp, still, impossibly still. Children. Two boys, one girl. Their skin was a soft shade of brown, sun-kissed, and their curly hair clung damply to their foreheads. Their faces were peaceful in the way only death could make them. Elyndria’s hands trembled as she reached out, brushing the curls back from the oldest boy’s brow. He couldn’t have been more than eight. Her fingers shook so badly she nearly recoiled from her own touch.

“What did you do?” she asked.

Her voice didn’t sound like hers—it was thinned with horror, cracking, raw. She tried to pull air into her lungs, but it came in jagged, like breathing through broken glass.

She looked up.

Lews Therin stood before her. His dark hair was tousled, his robe stained with old blood. His face was slack, eyes vacant at first—until a smile twisted across his lips. Not a smile of joy or comfort. A broken thing, stretched too far.

He laughed.

A sharp, mad sound that echoed like shattering glass across the stone.

“I had to,” he said.

Elyndria flinched. “You—what?”

“They weren’t right,” Lews Therin whispered, almost gleefully. His eyes were wild now, burning with something fevered. “I had to fix it.”

He kept laughing, repeating the words over and over.

“I had to. I had to. I had to fix it.”

Elyndria looked down again, her vision swimming with tears. The children hadn’t moved. Of course they hadn’t. Her heart ached so sharply it felt like it would cleave in two. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, but no sound came out. The blood on her hands wouldn’t wash away. She sobbed; low, broken, rocking forward against the small, lifeless forms. The kind of sob that didn’t stop once it started. Not for minutes. Not for years.

And all the while, behind her, the Dragon laughed –  

Elyndria woke with a sharp breath, her eyes snapping open.

Daylight spilled softly through the gaps in the tent flaps, golden and warm, but it did nothing to thaw the chill clinging to her skin. Her heart was still racing, pounding like a drum against her ribs. For a moment, she couldn’t move. The images clung to her mind with clawed fingers—the still bodies, the laughter, the blood on her hands.

She reached up and touched her face, half-expecting to feel tears, but her cheeks were dry.

Rand wasn’t there.

The bedroll beside her was empty, its surface already cool. He must have risen a while ago. Elyndria let out a breath—slow, quiet, almost ashamed of the relief it carried.

She pushed herself upright, fingers curling into the blanket beneath her. She felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Her bones ached, her muscles heavy with exhaustion, but none of that mattered. Not now. Not with daylight filtering in and people likely already moving outside. Not with Rand gone.

It was good, that he was gone though.

She needed the quiet. She needed the space. If he’d been here—if he’d seen her twisted in sleep, heard the sounds she might have made, seen her break—he would have known. He would’ve looked at her with those tortured eyes, the ones that saw too much and blamed himself for even more. He would’ve asked. And she wasn’t ready to tell him. Not about the dream. Not about Lews Therin. Not about the children—Ilyena’s children, who had once tugged at her skirts and laughed when Lews made the rain dance for them in the courtyard in her dreams.

Who had died, though she hadn't heard them scream. Did not see the moment their lives ended. Elyndria’s hands trembled as she drew them into her lap, hiding them in the folds of the blanket. She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself. He flinched when she spoke about the children in her dreams. Not just flinched—he folded in on himself like his own soul recoiled. Like even the thought of the memory of their laughter was a blade turned inward. He tried to be strong for her, always. But this—this wound they shared—was still raw in him.

She shook her head. No. She would not add weight to what he already carried.

Not today.

With a quiet grunt, Elyndria rose, pushing the blanket off and straightening her spine with practiced resolve. Her movements were smooth, careful, rehearsed. She would wash her face, braid her hair, smile if she had to. No one would know what she’d seen. No one would see what it was doing to her. She dressed in silence, fingers deftly tying the sash of her light robe and smoothing her hands over the fabric. Her reflection in the small, polished metal plate by her pack showed no sign of the night she’d endured—no tear tracks, no wildness in her eyes. Only a faint tightness in her jaw betrayed her.

Outside the tent, the Aiel camp was stirring. Low voices carried in the crisp morning air, accompanied by the soft crunch of boots on packed earth and the rustle of canvas in the wind. Somewhere not far, someone laughed—a brief, sharp sound. The heat of the day had not yet settled in, but it was coming.

Elyndria stepped out and into the light.

She spotted Egwene seated cross-legged near a sparse patch of shade just beyond a cooking fire, sipping from a steaming cup. Her short hair brushing against her neck, dark eyes catching Elyndria’s as she approached. “You look like you didn’t sleep,” Egwene said gently, offering her a second cup that had been waiting in the dust beside her.

“Not very well,” Elyndria replied, taking it with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But thanks for the tea." They sat in silence for a moment, the warmth from the cup seeping into Elyndria’s fingers. She let it anchor her, pulling her back from the lingering tendrils of the dream. She turned to Egwene, trying to direct the conversation away from questions about her sleep as she asked, “Well, what happened last night. With the Wise One?”

Egwene looked at her like she was still somewhere else. “She knew things. About my dreams. About me. I’ve been having these horrible nightmares about when I was captive by the Seanchan for weeks now. She says I have a talent... Dreamwalking, they call it. And she wants to teach me.”

Elyndria’s brows rose. “You’ll learn from the Wise Ones?”

“I—I don’t know yet,” Egwene said, then looked down, biting her lip. “She said if I want to learn, I’ll have to go into the dream world itself. Tel’aran’rhiod. And it’s dangerous. But... I think I’m supposed to. She said she could help me protect myself in my dreams”

Elyndria reached out and took her hand. “You’ll figure it out.”

Egwene looked up at her, uncertainty and excitement battling in her eyes. “It feels like everything’s changing.”

Elyndria smiled slightly, nodding softly in agreement. “Some of the best things always do. Change can be a bit frightening but we have to bend with it or else it can lead to cracks appearing, causing us to waver under them.”

“I don’t want to stop learning how to channel,” Egwene said, voice low, her eyes watching the flickering flames of the campfire. “Even if I am training with the Wise Ones to dreamwalk. But I’m struggling to learn from Moiraine because…”

She trailed off uncertainly, and Elyndria finished the thought for her, not unkindly. “Because Moiraine is too focused on Rand to teach you.”

Egwene pursed her lips, then nodded slowly in agreement. “She tries, sometimes. But it’s like her thoughts are always on what he needs. Or what she thinks he will need. I don’t blame her. It’s just…”

“Frustrating,” Elyndria offered.

“Yes,” Egwene exhaled.

A long moment passed. Elyndria turned her cup in her hands, the worn clay warm against her fingers. The thought rose before she could stop it, hesitant and bold all at once. “I could perhaps teach you.”

Egwene’s head jerked up, startled. Her dark eyes searched Elyndria’s face, hope beginning to shine through the surprise. “You would?”

Elyndria offered a soft smile. “I won’t be as efficient as Moiraine would be. I only wore the green shawl for a year before leaving the Tower with Rand. Moiraine has… far more experience.”

“But you trained as an Aes Sedai since you were twelve,” Egwene interrupted firmly. “And you’re strong. I know you are. Other Aes Sedai mentioned you when I was a novice in the Tower. You were well-regarded.”

That made Elyndria blink, her expression unreadable for a moment. She hadn’t thought many other Aes Sedai would remember her in the Tower, not after leaving so soon. Her eyes trailed over Egwene’s face, fierce and unflinching, eyes blazing with the kind of determination Elyndria remembered from her own training days. The same steel, the same hunger to learn, to grow. Whatever reservations Elyndria had been clinging to fell away.

“Okay,” she said softly, but with certainty. “I’ll help you.” Egwene’s face lit up, a grin breaking across her features like sunlight. “When you’re not training with the Wise Ones, I’ll teach you what I can. How to channel. How to listen to the One Power. How to weave… and how to fight, if you must.”

Egwene nodded, already sitting straighter. “Thank you.”

Elyndria reached over and rested her hand lightly over Egwene’s for a moment. “We’re all being shaped by this place,” she said. “You might as well be shaped into something strong.”

Egwene looked down at their hands, then back up at her. “Stronger together.”

Elyndria smiled. “Always.”

The fire popped, a bright little burst of sound, as the first hint of heat shimmered in the rising daylight. She looked up from her cup of tea as she saw in the corner of her eye, Rand approaching, the soft crunch of sand under his boots the only sound announcing his arrival. He settled beside them with a tired sigh, his shirt clinging lightly to his skin from the rising morning heat. Elyndria felt the familiar flutter in her chest at his nearness—comfort and tension all at once.

“Rhuarc told me we’ll be staying in Imre Stand for a few days,” Rand said, glancing between them. “It was Bair and Melaine’s decision. The Wise Ones apparently feel we need the rest.”

Egwene’s brow furrowed. “Melaine…” she murmured. “She’s the one who didn’t want to bury those people.”

There was a tight note in her voice that Elyndria understood too well. The way the Aiel could be so unmoved by death—it was something she hadn’t yet grown used to.

Elyndria lifted her cup to her lips, letting the last of the tea soothe her throat and settle her nerves. It was warm and bitter, but calming, and she welcomed the feeling that slowly unfurled in her muscles.

“It will be nice to rest,” she said softly, setting the cup aside. “My body is so sore from this journey into the Waste. Every part of me aches.”

Rand gave a low hum of agreement, but his eyes lingered on her face with more focus than casual concern. Gently, he reached out and brushed his thumb beneath her eye, the touch light and tender.

“You look like you’ve barely slept,” he said.

Elyndria offered a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She couldn’t quite make it. “My dreams weren’t the best,” she admitted, voice quiet. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either. She didn’t have the strength to tell him. Not about that dream.

Rand’s brow tightened, concern deepening in his expression. He opened his mouth, perhaps to press her further—but she shook her head slightly, leaning into his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” she murmured.

Rand’s arm slid around her back, pulling her close as she nestled in beside him. For now, the silence was enough.

Chapter 28: Painful dreams

They stayed in Imre Stand for several days, a strange stillness settling over the camp nestled between the red rock ridges. The morning heat grew quickly each day, but it brought with it a rhythm—quiet, deliberate, and edged with purpose. Rand trained with Lan in a space cleared of rocks and tents, the sound of clashing practice swords ringing through the air like bells. Lan was relentless, moving with precise, brutal efficiency, and Rand—sweating, grimacing—kept pace as best he could. Moiraine watched from the shade of the central tent, her eyes fixed on Rand not with judgment, but with a somber weight, as if she were measuring time against him, seeing a future that only she knew.

Further from the clang of swordplay, Elyndria stood barefoot in the warm sand, the hem of her tunic fluttering in the breeze. Opposite her, Egwene stood still, her face furrowed in concentration as she focused on the flow of saidar.

"Don't force it," Elyndria said, her voice calm but firm. "You guide it. Saidar is like a river—you don’t push against it, you surrender and shape it."

Egwene’s brow furrowed deeper. “That’s the hard part,” she muttered, “the surrendering.”

“You’re trying to control it too tightly,” Elyndria said, walking around her slowly. “Breathe, Egwene. Let it fill you, and then ask it to obey.”

Egwene exhaled shakily, closed her eyes, and let her shoulders drop. Elyndria felt it—the shift in the air around them, the sweet hum of the One Power being drawn in.

“There,” Elyndria said, smiling gently. “That’s it. Now try the thread of Air again.”

Egwene raised her hand and wove, the strand forming more smoothly this time, lifting a small stone from the ground. It hovered before her like a feather.

“I did it,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“You did,” Elyndria confirmed, pride warming her chest. “You’re a quick learner.”

Egwene grinned at her, the joy in her face reminding Elyndria of younger Novices in the White Tower. There was something special about watching someone grow, especially someone so determined.

“Alright,” Elyndria said, adjusting the cuff of her sleeve. “Now for something more advanced. Let’s try shielding.”

Egwene’s expression sobered at once. “I’ve only seen Moiraine do it once. She never explained how.”

“It’s about control,” Elyndria explained. “More than power, it’s precision. You need to form the weave tightly, weave Spirit and Air in a very specific pattern. Like this—watch me.”

She raised her hand and wove the complex lattice of threads, forming the invisible wall that would sever another channeler from the Source. Egwene watched, wide-eyed, her gaze flicking between Elyndria’s hands and the almost imperceptible shimmer in the air.

“Now try. Slowly. Let the Power fill you first.”

Egwene inhaled, then began. The weave faltered at first, threads slipping apart, but Elyndria guided her through it, helping her shape and control each strand until—at last—the shield shimmered to life.

It was small. Fragile. Wispy and flickering at the edges.

But it was a shield.

“You did it,” Elyndria said gently, stepping around to study the threads. “It’s delicate, but it’s a beginning. Right now, it wouldn’t hold long against someone truly strong in the Power—but that’s something we’ll work on. With practice, you’ll learn to reinforce it. To hold it firm.”

Egwene looked at the shield, then back at Elyndria, her eyes filled with equal parts awe and determination. “I want to keep learning,” she said. “I want to be able to protect myself. To protect others.”

“You will,” Elyndria replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And I’ll help you get there.”

Their hands were warm with saidar, the sun glowing low behind them as the day crept toward evening. And though the red sands of the Waste stretched endlessly around them, there was purpose in that place—renewal, learning, and a bond that was beginning to feel like something stronger than friendship

Though the days passed quietly in Imre Stand, Elyndria’s nights were anything but peaceful.

Every time she lay her head down beside Rand—sometimes tangled in the warmth of his arms, other times waiting until his breathing deepened into sleep before curling in beside him—the nightmares came.

They no longer carried her through the burning halls of a crumbling castle, her bare feet blistered from running, her lungs burning from smoke as she chased a voice she could never reach. That dream had faded. Now, the new one waited for her behind her eyelids like an old, cruel friend.

It always began the same: she was surrounded by children.

Three of them. Always three. Sometimes they were laughing, running around her in a blur of color and motion. Sometimes she held them close, braiding their curls, humming lullabies she didn’t remember learning. But more often than not, they were still. Limp. Cold. Their light brown skin dulled by dust, their small chests unmoving. Their dark lashes resting against cheeks that would never flush again.

And Lews was always there.

Sometimes she’d see him across the room, his face hidden in shadow until he stepped into the light—blank-eyed, mouth twitching in that same strange, haunted smile. Other times he was beside her, holding one of the children as if he’d meant to cradle them—before his hands squeezed too tightly, before the laughter spilled from his lips like shards of glass.

“I had to,” he’d mutter. “They weren’t right. I had to fix it.”

“No,” she’d whisper back, voice hoarse, her arms trembling as she tried to gather the children against her chest. “You killed them. You—”

“I was saving you,” he’d interrupt, eyes wide with a deranged kind of love. “You’ll see. You’ll feel better now.”

And she always tried to fight him. Always reached for the One Power—to strike, to shield, to burn him down to ash—but nothing ever came. No spark, no wind, no warmth. Her fingers clenched with desperation, but the Source remained distant, unreachable, as if she had been severed from it completely.

Then, he would lunge.

Not always. But often enough that her body flinched before it even began. He would throw her to the ground, his weight like ice and madness and grief pressed against her, whispering over and over, “Let go, let go, I’ll make it better.”

Those were the worst dreams—the ones without the children. Just the two of them, locked in a suffocating cycle of fear and false tenderness. In those dreams, she woke up biting back screams, drenched in sweat, her fingers knotted in the thin blankets of the tent, nails cutting into her own palms. She never told Rand. She couldn’t. He knew what her dreams meant. Who the children were. What their deaths represented. So she stayed silent.

And each morning, when she pulled her braids back and washed the exhaustion from her face, she smiled and said she slept fine. She trained with Egwene, laughed when the girl made jokes, nodded through Moiraine’s cool observations, and kissed Rand’s temple like her dreams didn’t haunt her.

But in the quiet spaces between, when no one was watching—Elyndria’s hands shook.

Just a little.

---

The tent was quiet save for the distant murmur of wind brushing against the canvas. Moonlight filtered in through a thin opening, casting pale silver light across the blankets tangled around them. Elyndria lay curled into Rand’s side, her leg draped over his, his fingers gently trailing over the curve of her lower back in slow, absent-minded strokes. It was one of the rare moments of stillness, of something that felt close to peace.

But peace was a fragile thing these days.

“You’re exhausted,” Rand murmured into the quiet, his voice low but certain.

Elyndria didn’t stiffen—she’d trained herself not to—but her breath caught just slightly in her throat. The warmth of his touch, so steady and loving, made her ache.

“I’m tired,” she said softly, her cheek resting over his heartbeat. “From everything.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. Under her oaths to the Tower, she couldn’t lie. But there were always ways to bend the truth, ways to keep the whole of it tucked behind carefully chosen words.

Rand let out a heavy sigh above her, the kind that came from too much knowing and not enough certainty. His hand slowed, then rose to her chin, guiding her to look up at him. His fingers were gentle, reverent, like she might shatter. His eyes searched hers, tracing every line of weariness and strain on her face. “It’s more than that,” he said. “You don’t think I notice the yawns you try to hide? The way you rub your eyes when you think no one’s watching?” He paused, voice lowering to something rawer. “Or the way you feel through the bond.”

Elyndria opened her mouth, unsure of what she was going to say—unsure if she was going to keep dancing around the truth—but Rand stopped her with a slight shake of his head.

“No,” he said gently but firmly. “I want you to be honest with me.”

His hand cupped her cheek now, thumb brushing just beneath her eye. She wondered if he could feel the pulse racing in her throat, the ache building behind her ribs. He was silent for a long moment before continuing, his voice quieter now, like he was afraid of the answer. “The dreams you have... the ones about the past,” he murmured, “Are you having nightmares again?”

Elyndria’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The warmth of his touch made it harder to lie, harder to hide. And the bond between them... the bond pulsed with the quiet throb of her sorrow, her fear, her guilt. She couldn’t shield it completely. Not from him.

Her silence said more than any words could.

Rand’s breath hitched, and his arms tightened around her slightly, protective, helpless.

“What is it?” he asked, voice trembling just enough. “What do you see?”

Elyndria looked at him, really looked—at the boy she loved, the man burdened with the weight of the world, the soul that was both his and not his—and wondered if telling him would undo him. If her pain would add to his own.

But it was there in his eyes: he wanted to share the burden. Even if it hurt. Especially if it hurt.

Elyndria exhaled slowly, as if the weight of the truth might be too much for her lungs to carry. Her fingers found the edge of Rand’s shirt, curling into the fabric like an anchor.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she whispered. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because I know how it affects you. The past. Them.” Rand said nothing, his breath still, his eyes never leaving her face. She could feel his concern through the bond — warm and tense, like the calm before a storm. “They’re not like the dreams I had before,” she continued, her voice faltering as she looked down again, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m not running through burning halls anymore. I’m not trying to reach someone I can’t find.”

Her throat tightened.

“It always starts the same now. I’m surrounded by the children... Ileyen’s children.” Her breath caught, and she forced herself to speak through it. “Sometimes they’re already dead when I find them. Other times, I watch Lews kill them.” Rand flinched. She felt it. A sudden jolt in his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to stop now. “And I just stand there,” she whispered. “I can’t do anything. I can’t channel. No matter how much I scream for the One Power, nothing comes. I’m useless. I just... I just watch them die.” She shook her head slowly, her voice cracking now. “And sometimes, there’s no children at all. Just Lews. He smiles at me with that broken look in his eyes and tells me he’s going to save me. That he’ll make it better if I just stop fighting. And then he tries to kill me.”

She looked up at Rand then, tears clinging stubbornly to the edges of her lashes. “And I wake up. Every time I wake up with my heart in my throat, and I—” Her voice gave out, and she turned her face into his chest. “I didn’t want you to feel it,” she mumbled. “Through the bond. I tried to hide it. But I knew... I knew you’d notice eventually.”

Rand didn’t speak. Not at first.

He simply held her, wrapping both arms around her with a fierceness that made her breath catch again — this time not from fear or pain, but from the way he held her, like she was the most fragile and precious thing in the world.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “Light, Elyndria... I’m so sorry.”

She could feel the guilt welling in him. He blamed himself. Of course he did. “It wasn’t you,” she said, trying to lift her head. “It was Lews. He’s not you.”

“But he is,” Rand said softly. “Part of me. Part of what I carry. What I did... what he did... You carry it too now. Because of me.”

Elyndria shook her head fiercely, reaching up to cradle his face. “No. Don’t do that. You didn’t ask for this anymore than I did. We were born into this. Twisted into it by the Wheel. But I chose to be here. Beside you. Bonded to you. I choose you, Rand. Even with the nightmares.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes glassy, raw. “Even if they never stop?”

“Then I’ll fight them,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears. “Just like I’ll fight whatever comes for us out there.”

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I love you,” he murmured, barely louder than a breath.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

They held each other in the dim tent, the world outside forgotten, for just a little while. The silence that settled around them wasn’t empty — it was full of unspoken things, the weight of history and heartbreak, of trust given freely in the dark. Rand’s arms didn’t loosen around her. If anything, he held her tighter, one hand slowly brushing through her hair, the other tracing soft, grounding circles along her spine. “You shouldn’t have had to carry it alone,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Not the dreams. Not the fear.”

“I didn’t want you to carry it too,” Elyndria murmured. “You have enough burdens. The Dragon Reborn doesn’t need to worry about my ghosts.”

He leaned back just enough to look at her, his gaze fierce and tender all at once.

“You’re not just ‘someone’ to me,” he said. “You’re not another Aes Sedai, or a companion on the road. You’re mine, Elyndria. Bonded. Trusted. Loved.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The bond between them hummed — not just with emotion, but something deeper. Something ancient and infinite, like the pull of stars in the night sky. She felt him fully in that moment: every beat of his heart, every tremble of sorrow, every flicker of hope he hadn’t dared speak aloud. She cupped his face in both hands, gently brushing her thumb beneath his eye.

“And you’re mine,” she whispered. “That’s why I’ll fight the dreams. Because I don’t want to lose myself in them. And I don’t want to lose you to them either.”

Rand exhaled slowly, resting his forehead against hers. His hand slid down to rest on her hip, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of her shirt. “We have so few moments like this,” he said. “Where it’s just us. No prophecy. No expectations.”

“Then let’s keep it,” she murmured. “Just for tonight.”

The tent was still and warm around them, lit only by the faintest glow of moonlight slipping through the flap. Rand pulled the blankets higher over them, curling into her the way she curled into him — not for protection, but for peace. His hand stayed on her back, steady and comforting. Her fingers wove into the edge of his shirt again, grounding herself. They spoke no more of dreams or of the past. Instead, they stayed close, their breathing falling into rhythm. Elyndria pressed her lips lightly against his chest, right where his heart beat strongest. He kissed the crown of her head in return.

Eventually, sleep did come for her.

And though her dreams were still uncertain, filled with shadow and sorrow, she dreamed now with Rand’s warmth still wrapped around her — a thread of light in the darkness.

---

 

The sun rose pale and filtered through the canvas of the tent, casting a warm golden glow on the furs and blankets tangled around them.

Elyndria stirred first, eyes blinking open slowly, lashes fluttering against Rand’s skin. She didn’t move for a moment — just breathed, letting herself feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek, the slow heartbeat that calmed something deep inside her.

For once, her dreams hadn’t pulled her into screaming or silence. They hadn’t been peaceful, exactly, but Rand had been there. And in the dream — just like in the waking world — he hadn’t left her side.

Rand shifted slightly under her, his arm tightening around her waist as he mumbled something half-coherent into her hair. Elyndria smiled faintly, her fingers brushing gently over his chest as she spoke, soft and amused. “You’re awake.”

“Mm… barely,” he muttered, cracking open one eye. “But if I get to wake up with you here every time, I’m not complaining.”

She tilted her head back just enough to look up at him. He was sleep-ruffled and warm, his hair a mess and his face unguarded in the morning light. It was rare, seeing him like this. No weight of the world pressing down just yet. No mask of the Dragon Reborn. Just Rand.

“You didn’t bolt off at dawn,” she teased gently. “That’s new.”

He smirked, drawing lazy circles along the curve of her back. “Well, Rhuarc said we’re staying another day. Bair and Melaine are arguing about the dreams and omens again. Apparently the clouds in the east mean something dramatic.”

Elyndria chuckled quietly. “Don’t they always?”

Rand tilted her chin up again, brushing a kiss over her forehead. “How are you feeling? Really.”

She paused, letting her hand rest over his heart. “Tired,” she admitted. “But not like before. Like the kind of tired you feel when you’ve walked through something dark… and come out the other side.”

Rand nodded slowly, his expression softening. “Then we’ll keep walking through it. Together.”

She let herself sink into that — the honesty, the stillness, the quiet certainty of his words. The bond between them buzzed with quiet warmth, like a distant thread of sunlight. Eventually, they dressed and stepped out into the pale light of morning, the cool air of the Waste sharp but refreshing. Around them, Imre Stand was coming to life — Aiel moving with purpose, soft voices in the distance, the scent of tea and something spiced cooking over a fire.

Egwene sat nearby, legs crossed, deep in concentration as she attempted another shield weave with her eyes closed. Elyndria smiled faintly, squeezing Rand’s hand once before stepping away to join her.

There was still so much to do. So much to learn. But for the first time in days, the morning didn’t feel quite so heavy. And Elyndria, though tired, walked toward it with her chin high — and light in her heart. Egwene was still sitting cross-legged by the fire when Elyndria approached, her brow furrowed in concentration. The morning sun lit the dust in the air as the Aiel moved around them with their usual quiet intensity, but here, by the fire, there was a stillness that belonged to the two of them. The world felt a little quieter, a little safer.

Elyndria paused for a moment to watch, noting how far Egwene had come in such a short time. The young woman was a natural. Her posture was steady, hands relaxed at her sides, but the focus in her eyes told Elyndria everything.

“You’re getting better,” Elyndria said with a smile, kneeling down beside her.

Egwene’s eyes opened slowly, and she gave a small, tight smile. “I feel it, but there’s still so much to do. I can’t even hold a shield properly yet.”

Elyndria could see the frustration in her gaze, though Egwene was trying hard not to show it. It was a struggle she knew all too well, the constant pressure to improve, to learn more, to be more.

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Elyndria replied softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It took me years to learn how to weave a shield properly. You’re already ahead of where I was when I started.”

Egwene nodded, though her shoulders were still tense. “It’s just frustrating. Sometimes I feel like I can’t get a handle on it at all.”

Elyndria looked down at the small weave Egwene had been attempting, a faint glow flickering weakly around her hands. The shield was fragile, like glass — not enough strength to protect anyone, let alone herself. “Let’s work on it together,” Elyndria suggested, her voice warm and steady. “You know the theory. Focus on the intent, the feeling behind the shield, not just the weave itself. Imagine it wrapping around you like a shell. A fragile one, yes, but strong if you focus. The moment you doubt it, it’ll crumble.”

Egwene exhaled slowly, eyes drifting to the ground for a second before looking up again with renewed determination. “Okay.”

Elyndria mirrored her stance, sitting cross-legged next to her, then closed her eyes. “Let’s start slow. Focus on how it feels when you use the One Power. Think of the heat, the rush of it, and build the shield from there. Try not to force it, just let it form, like water flowing over stones.”

She waited for Egwene to get comfortable again, then watched as the young woman’s face slowly smoothed into concentration. A flicker of light surrounded her hands again, more controlled this time, though it still faded too quickly.

“Good,” Elyndria murmured, nodding. “Now, try to visualize it stronger. Like I said — imagine it protecting you, not just surrounding you. Feel the way it can hold back everything that would harm you.”

Egwene was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing again as she tried to deepen her focus.

Then, a faint crackling sound filled the air, and the shield around Egwene’s hands flared for just a moment, brighter this time. It didn’t last long — only a few seconds — but it was a start.

“I… I felt it,” Egwene whispered, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and triumph. “It was stronger. But I still don’t know how to hold it.”

Elyndria’s smile was soft, proud. “It’s a process, Egwene. The more you practice, the longer you’ll be able to hold it. But you have to trust in it — and in yourself. A shield is only as strong as the person who commands it.”

Egwene’s face tightened slightly, the same determination that had been in her eyes since the beginning now fused with the quiet hope of progress. “I can do this,” she said, almost to herself.

“Yes, you can.” Elyndria leaned back slightly, crossing her arms. “But don’t push yourself too hard. It’s one step at a time.”

Egwene nodded, her breath steady as she gathered the One Power once more, her shield flickering around her hands again. This time, it lasted a little longer.

Elyndria watched, feeling a quiet satisfaction in her chest as she saw the strength in Egwene. She wasn’t sure how far Egwene could go — how fast she would learn — but she had no doubt she’d master it. With a little time and patience.

“You’re getting there,” Elyndria said, offering her a smile as Egwene’s eyes slowly opened.

“I just need to keep trying,” Egwene answered, her voice steadier now, but still carrying the weight of her ambition.

“You will. And when you feel ready, we can work on fighting with the One Power, too,” Elyndria added, her tone light and teasing.

Egwene’s eyes brightened, the spark of challenge igniting within them. “I’ll be ready. Just you wait.”

Elyndria grinned, pleased by the fiery spirit in the young woman. “I’m looking forward to it.”

As Egwene went back to her practice, Elyndria watched with pride, quietly content with how much progress had been made already.

Egwene and Elyndria continued their practice under the relentless sun, the air thick with the heat of midday. Elyndria, ever the playful teacher, began to toss small stones at Egwene from a distance, her aim precise but controlled. Egwene’s shield flickered into existence, her hands moving with practiced precision as she blocked each incoming stone, her face a mask of concentration. Each block grew a little more fluid, a little more confident, as she learned to use her shield with more control.

Then, from the side, the soft sound of footsteps approached. Elyndria glanced up, her arm pausing mid-throw. Aviendha stood a few feet away, a spear in her hands, her expression serious.

“Here,” Aviendha said, her voice commanding. “Elayne told me you were a Green Ajah in the White Tower. A faction that held themselves as warriors. I would like to see if you can fight with a weapon, rather than your saidar.”

Elyndria tilted her head slightly, intrigued, then looked at the spear she offered. Her fingers hovered over it as she examined it, feeling the weight and the balance. “I have a sword,” she replied, her voice steady.

Aviendha’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head sharply. “No swords. We do not believe in using swords so close to the city in the clouds.” Her gaze flicked toward the distant figures of Rand and Lan, practicing their own swordsmanship, and Elyndria noticed the way Aviendha’s lips curled slightly, a sharp disapproval in her expression. She sniffed dismissively.

Elyndria gave a small sigh, then nodded. She didn’t want to press the issue, and she certainly didn’t want to antagonize the Aiel woman further. With a quiet motion, she set down the stones she had been tossing and stood up, stretching slightly before taking the spear from Aviendha’s hands.

“I’ll give it a try,” Elyndria said, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement, though there was also a spark of challenge in her eyes.

Eviendha led the way toward a more open area, her steps purposeful and unyielding. Elyndria followed, feeling the weight of the spear settle in her hands, testing the feel of it as she walked. As they moved, Egwene and several of the Aiel warriors watched with interest, their eyes glinting with eager curiosity. Elyndria exchanged a glance with Egwene, who smiled back, her expression filled with quiet excitement at the chance to observe the skill of the Green Ajah, and at the possibility of learning something new.

Elyndria took a deep breath, steadying herself as she dropped into a stance she knew well. Her fingers gripped the spear, feeling the familiar weight of the weapon, even though it wasn’t her preferred tool. She had trained with spears before as part of her Green Ajah training, but she was far more accustomed to the feel of a sword in her hands. Still, she centered herself, drawing in the quiet, focused energy she needed.

The sun hung heavy overhead, the heat pressing down on them as the Aiel gathered around in a loose circle, their eyes trained on the duel about to unfold. Everything seemed still for a moment, the quiet anticipation hanging in the air like a thick fog.

And then, with a smirk of determination and confidence, Aviendha moved. She sprang forward with a speed that caught Elyndria slightly off-guard, her spear cutting through the air. Elyndria parried instinctively, her body responding, her spear meeting Aviendha’s with a loud crack. The Aiel woman’s expression was one of fierce determination, and Elyndria matched her, feeling the rush of adrenaline in her veins.

They circled each other, spears clashing in a dance of precision and skill. Elyndria focused on the rhythm, remembering the lessons her Green Ajah sisters had drilled into her: the fluidity of movement, the strength of the strike, the speed of reaction. Every time their spears locked, Elyndria felt the sharpness of the Aielwoman’s strikes, and she matched them with her own controlled movements. It felt like sparring with her sisters back at the White Tower, the intensity of their training making every strike feel like life and death, every block and thrust a lesson in survival. Elyndria’s breath came quicker as the fight stretched on, her muscles beginning to ache, but the challenge was exhilarating.

Aviendha was relentless, but so was she. Elyndria’s body moved on instinct, ducking under a strike, then launching herself forward in a series of rapid movements that kept Aviendha on her toes. The fight was even, both of them pushing each other to their limits, neither one yielding an inch.

But eventually, after nearly nine minutes of continuous combat, Elyndria miscalculated just slightly. She hadn’t anticipated Aviendha’s feint, and in that fraction of a second of hesitation, the Aiel woman got the drop on her. With a swift and precise motion, Aviendha drove the blunt end of her spear to the ground next to Elyndria, flipping her onto her back with a controlled movement. Elyndria gasped for air, her heart racing, as she found herself staring up at the sharp point of Aviendha’s spear, its tip hovering just inches from her throat. For a moment, everything was still, the intensity of their fight hanging in the air between them. Elyndria’s breath came in quick, ragged gasps, her body sore but filled with the exhilaration of the fight.

Aviendha’s face was serious for a moment, her dark eyes watching Elyndria with an unreadable expression. But then, slowly, the corners of her mouth twitched, and a slow grin spread across her face.

"You are good..." she said, her voice light and filled with respect. "For a wetlander."

Elyndria couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly, her heart still pounding in her chest. She nodded, a grin of her own tugging at her lips. "I suppose you were a bit amazing yourself."

Aviendha extended a hand, her smile warm and genuine now. Elyndria grasped it and was pulled up to her feet, the two of them sharing a moment of mutual respect. Elyndria’s legs felt like jelly beneath her, but she stood tall, meeting Aviendha’s eyes with the same respect she’d earned in the sparring.

“I haven’t had a fight like that in a long time,” Elyndria said, breathing deeply as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Aviendha nodded, looking at Elyndria with a flicker of admiration in her eyes. “Perhaps you should fight with us more often, Green Ajah,” she teased.

Elyndria chuckled, shaking her head. “Perhaps I will.”

The Aiel warriors watching them murmured amongst themselves, some nodding with approval at the display of skill and strength from both women. Elyndria caught Egwene’s eye in the crowd, the younger woman’s expression bright with pride.

As the group dispersed, Elyndria couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t every day that someone like Aviendha took you on in a fight and walked away with newfound respect.

---

 

The moon was high in the sky by the time the summons came from the Wise Ones.

Later that night, Elyndria stood beside Egwene just outside the large, domed tent that had been set up near the center of Imre Stand. The air was cool and dry, carrying with it the soft crackle of distant fires and the occasional murmur of voices. Moiraine stood before them, her expression unreadable, but her stride was full of purpose as she led the way forward.

Elyndria and Egwene followed close behind, the quiet of the night amplifying the soft crunch of their boots on the sandy ground. Elyndria shifted uneasily, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her skirts as they walked. She had not been summoned by the Wise Ones since their arrival in Imre Stand, she had not seen them beyond a faint glimpse when they moved around the camp. Egwene, at least, had begun training with them during the days—learning the first steps of dreamwalking, returning each evening with tired limbs and a quiet, thoughtful look in her eyes.

The tent before them loomed tall, its flaps drawn open just enough to reveal the soft flicker of lamplight within. Moiraine swept inside without hesitation, her blue silk dress whispering behind her. Elyndria and Egwene exchanged a glance, uncertainty lingering between them, before following after her.

Inside, the air was warm and fragrant with the scent of herbs and smoke. The walls were lined with thick woven rugs and low shelves of clay cups and bowls, everything simple but purposeful. A table had been set low to the ground, surrounded by cushions. There sat Bair and Melaine, both with calm expressions and sharp eyes that missed nothing.

The Wise Ones did not rise to greet them, but they did nod in acknowledgment.

“Moiraine Sedai,” Bair said evenly. “You are welcome.”

Melaine’s gaze shifted to Egwene and Elyndria. “Egwene….and Elyndria, you are welcome.”

Moiraine inclined her head as she moved to sit at the table. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Egwene moved next, bowing her head politely as she sat beside Moiraine. Elyndria hesitated for only a moment before following suit, settling beside Egwene with careful grace. She kept her hands folded neatly in her lap, resisting the urge to fidget under the Wise Ones’ assessing eyes. The silence stretched for a moment, not uncomfortable, but certainly heavy with expectation.

“You have been training well,” Bair said, her gaze settling on Egwene.

Egwene straightened slightly, pride flickering across her face. “I’m trying. It’s... different, learning this way, but I’m grateful.”

“You listen,” Melaine said with a small nod. “That is more than most.”

Elyndria felt the shift in attention as Bair’s eyes landed on her next. It wasn’t hostile, but it was piercing, as though the woman were peering through her skin and into the marrow beneath.

“You carry a great deal of weight,” Bair said, quiet but firm.

Elyndria met her gaze and dipped her head respectfully. “We all do, I think.”

“Perhaps,” Melaine said. “But some weights are chosen, and others are inherited. Knowing the difference is important.” Moiraine’s expression didn’t shift, but Elyndria sensed her subtle awareness of the words, as if the conversation had turned onto a path she recognized.

Egwene glanced between them, her brows furrowed slightly in thought.

Bair finally leaned back, her fingers laced loosely in her lap. “Tonight is not a test. You are guests. Eat with us. Listen. Learn what you will.”

Elyndria offered a nod of thanks, the tension in her shoulders easing only slightly. The Wise Ones might not wield the One Power in the same way the Aes Sedai did, but their presence filled the space with the same commanding weight. She would need to be careful, and more than that—honest.

She let her fingers wrap around the warm cup of tea that was passed to her, its scent calming. She wasn’t sure what the Wise Ones would speak of tonight, but she was certain of one thing: They were watching. And they missed nothing. Bair nodded as two young women slipped into the tent, each carrying large clay platters of food—flatbread, roasted roots, and a fragrant stew that smelled of spices Elyndria couldn't name. They moved with practiced grace, their eyes lowered and steps soft, and as quickly as they had arrived, they vanished again into the night beyond the tent flaps.

“Here is water and shade, freely given,” Bair said, the traditional words calm and resonant in the tent’s hushed space.

Elyndria gave a soft word of thanks under her breath and reached for the warm, flatbread, tearing off a small piece as the food was placed before them. Egwene, seated beside her, watched the retreating figures of the women with quiet interest.

“Is it only the Wise Ones who have servants?” Egwene asked curiously, glancing back at Bair once they had gone.

Bair’s brow lifted slightly. “They are gai’shain, not servants,” she corrected gently, but firmly.

Melaine continued, her voice fluid and low like a lesson well-rehearsed. “In the dance of spears, the greatest ji’e’toh is given by touching an armed enemy without killing or harming them in any way. Those who are touched become gai’shain, and they serve for a year and a day. After that, they return to their lives and their weapons.”

“They are not beaten,” Bair added, “nor treated cruelly. They choose to follow ji’e’toh, to keep their honor. It is their pride.”

Moiraine, who had remained largely silent, finally stirred. She reached for a clay cup of tea and sipped slowly before her cool eyes met Melaine’s. “You are very comfortable answering questions we have no interest in the answers to,” she said evenly.

Bair tilted her head slightly, eyes never leaving Moiraine’s. “What interests you, Aes Sedai?”

Moiraine set her cup down gently, her voice calm but with steel behind it. “How you knew we were coming.”

There was a beat of silence, then Bair answered without hesitation. “The Wise Ones see many paths. What is happening—or beginning—is more easily seen than what will happen or may.”

Melaine's voice followed smoothly, more direct. “We did not see Egwene or Elyndria at all. You were hidden from us. It was no more than an even chance that the young man who calls himself Rand al’Thor would come. If he did not, it was certain he would die—and the Aiel, too.”

Bair nodded. “And yet he has come. And if he survives Rhuidean, some of the Aiel at least will survive. This we know.”

Elyndria sat a little straighter at the mention of Rhuidean, glancing at Egwene, who had gone very still. Moiraine said nothing, though her posture tensed. The name of the hidden city still held the weight of prophecy and secrecy, even after all these days.

Melaine’s tone turned sharper, urgent. “If you had not come, you would have died. If Aan’allein had not come, you would have died. If you do not go through Rhuidean—”

“Shh,” Bair cut her off sharply, the sound like wind through stones. “You should not have been told.”

Elyndria looked down at her food, her appetite fading. A prickling chill passed through her despite the warmth of the tent. She had felt it, that wrongness in the air when Rhuarc and Rand spoke of Rhuidean days ago. The Aiel clan chief had looked displeased, as if words were being spoken that should not be. Like secrets had slipped loose. She rubbed her fingers together in her lap, quietly willing the unease away.

“It is possible for women,” Bair began, her voice slower now, measured, “to see some ways the future may be woven in Rhuidean. What threads may come together.”

But she was cut off as a ripple of laughter echoed from outside the tent. Loud hoots, the sharp crack of wood or blunted steel meeting with force, the sound of a scuffle—not panicked, but loud and energetic. It didn’t sound like battle. Melaine’s head tilted as the sounds outside grew louder—hootings and laughter interspersed with the distinct crack of wooden hafts meeting, and the thudding rhythm of practiced footwork. Then came a sharp, triumphant cry.

“They’re sparring,” she murmured, but this time with a flicker of disapproval. “That sounds like Aviendha.”

Elyndria lifted her gaze. “Aviendha?”

Bair sighed softly. “Even in times of prophecy, there is time for foolishness.”

Moiraine raised a brow but said nothing, swirling her tea with elegant detachment.

Egwene glanced toward the tent flap again, her curiosity clear. “She fought Elyndria earlier today. With spears.”

Bair’s eyes shifted to Elyndria. “Did she? And did you win?”

Elyndria gave a tired but honest smile. “No. She got the better of me in the end.” She met Bair’s gaze evenly. “But I held my own.”

There was a long pause before Melaine nodded in approval. “Good. A Wise One must know how to win with skill as well as to know what it is to lose with dignity”

Bair added, “And to learn from both.”

The fighting outside grew louder, the clash of wood and grunts of exertion breaking the otherwise still air of early evening. The sounds of amusement and light-hearted hoots drifted in, and while it did not sound panicked, it was disruptive enough that the Wise Ones exchanged glances—silent, pointed—and stood. Without a word, Bair swept from the tent, her posture stiff with purpose. Melaine followed a moment later. Moiraine rose and moved after them with her usual composed grace, her expression unreadable. Egwene and Elyndria exchanged a quick glance, then scrambled after them.

Outside, a crowd had gathered in a loose circle around the source of the noise. In the center, Aviendha and Lan moved like striking shadows, spears and sword glinting under the fading sun. They were fierce and fast, neither one holding back. Lan’s face was calm, precise. Aviendha grinned with feral pride, flushed with exertion.

Just as Aviendha sprang forward again, spear in hand, Bair’s voice rang out, sharp enough to cleave the air.

“It is time.”

Every Aiel in the circle froze mid-motion. Aviendha landed lightly on her feet, breathing hard. She turned slowly toward the Wise Ones, expression guarded.

“Stop this foolishness,” Bair said firmly, striding into the center of the circle. “You have run with the spears as long as you can. Longer than you should have.”

Aviendha set her jaw, her voice rising defiantly. “I am a Maiden of the Spear. I do not want to be a Wise One.”

Bair’s expression didn’t change. “You were called. And instead, you went across the Dragonwall searching for the Car’a’carn. You cannot run from what you must be.” Elyndria blinked in surprise, her gaze flicking to Aviendha. On the boat, Aviendha had told her she’d been sent by the Wise Ones to investigate things in the wetlands. It had been a lie. Bair stepped closer to Aviendha, her voice lower but no less firm. “I too refused when called. I thought I was as strong and hard as a woman could be.” Her breath caught for a moment. “Eventually though, I…” She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. “…I learned my duty. My obligation to the people.”

Aviendha stood rigid, the spear in her hand trembling slightly.

Melaine stepped forward, her expression unreadable, though her eyes softened just a fraction. “The cadin'sor, Aviendha,” she said simply.

Aviendha stiffened. Her hands curled into fists at her sides for a heartbeat before she exhaled slowly and reached up to untie her head scarf. Her burnt-red braids fell loose around her face, the wind teasing them gently. She unclasped her cadin'sor with steady fingers, removing the layered garments piece by piece. Her shoulders remained square, her chin lifted, even as she stripped it away, until she stood in a simple white shirt that clung to her with the remnants of sweat and heat.

Melaine stepped forward and accepted the folded cadin'sor without a word, her movements careful and deliberate. “Your new clothes will await your return,” she said as she stepped back.

Aviendha kept her head held high. Her voice was thick but unwavering. “I ask you leave to enter Rhuidean.”

Bair regarded her silently for a moment, pride and sorrow mixing in her gaze. “The question is asked. I answer yes.”

“I answer yes,” Melaine added, her tone reverent.

The hush that followed felt sacred—heavy with history and the weight of choice. Elyndria found herself holding her breath, standing still as stone beside Egwene and Moiraine.

Bair stepped forward. “If you do not return, your belongings will be given to your family for remembrance.” She touched Aviendha lightly on the shoulder—a brief, intimate gesture full of meaning. “A strong mind and a strong heart are your weapons now. But you hold them as surely as you’ve ever held a spear. They will see you through anything.” She hesitated, then added more softly, “Come back to us.”

Aviendha gave a single nod, her jaw clenched, tears swimming in her eyes but refusing to fall. “I’ll be back before you reach the slopes of Chaendaer,” she said firmly.

A ripple passed through the gathered Aiel, a shift in posture, in breath—subtle, respectful. The torchlight caught the determination on her face as she turned from them, her feet soundless against the cool sand. She walked away into the moonlit night—toward where Rhuidean stood in the very far distance. It was a few hours later, after Aviendha had left for Rhuidean, that Elyndria, Rand and Egwene found themselves gathered around the small fire outside their tents. The camp had grown quieter, the hush of nightfall wrapping around the Aiel tents like a heavy blanket. The air was cool, crisp, and dry, with only the distant howl of wind across the Waste to fill the silence.

Rand sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the fire as if it held the answers he sought. Elyndria sat close beside him, her legs folded beneath her, and Egwene sat across from them, arms wrapped around herself. No one spoke for a long time. The flames flickered softly between them, painting golden light across their tired faces.

Finally, Rand broke the silence, voice low and steady. “I spoke with the Wise Ones. And with Rhuarc. I’m going into Rhuidean tomorrow.”

Egwene’s head snapped up, eyes wide in the dark. “Tomorrow?” she repeated, her voice uncertain. “Rand, the Wise Ones say that those who are becoming clan chiefs or Wise Ones usually wait weeks on the slopes before going in. They don’t say much when they teach me to dreamwalk, but from what I’ve gathered… only one out of every five people ever come out.”

Rand met her eyes for only a second before looking down again, his jaw tightening. “Then I’ll just have to be that one.”

Elyndria inhaled slowly, her fingers pressing into the rough fabric of her skirts. “Rand…” Her voice was softer than before, nearly pleading. “Please don’t make this out to be a joke.”

He turned his head toward her, the firelight playing across his cheekbones. “I’m not, Elyndria. I swear it. But we can’t wait any longer. We all know it.” His voice was steadier now, filled with quiet urgency. “The world is spinning faster. The Forsaken are moving pieces on a board we haven’t even seen. The Pattern’s pushing us. I have to go.”

He placed a hand against his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. “I feel it. I can do this. I need to do this. You just have to believe in me.”

Elyndria watched him closely, her heart aching at the determination — and exhaustion — in his eyes. She reached out, resting her hand over his gently. “I do believe in you, Rand,” she said softly, with quiet strength. “We both do.” She nodded toward Egwene, who was already leaning forward, eyes softening.

“We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t,” Egwene added, her voice warm but laced with worry. “You know that. You’ve always had us. It’s just…” She trailed off, her hands curling in her lap. “It’s hard not to worry.”

Rand let out a breath, and some of the tension bled from his shoulders. “I know,” he murmured. “Light, I know. But I need to try. If I don’t… we lose everything.”

Elyndria held his gaze, her thumb brushing the back of his hand. “Then go,” she whispered. “But come back.”

His smile was faint, flickering like the firelight. “I will. I promise.”

And for a little while longer, the three of them simply sat there in the dark, the fire between them, hearts bound in fear, hope, and something deeper than either. Tomorrow would come far too soon. Rand stood slowly, his hand lingering in Elyndria’s for a moment before he let go. He gave them both a nod — not quite a goodbye, but not far from it — and walked off into the night, the firelight catching briefly in the red of his hair before he faded into the shadows between tents.

Elyndria’s eyes followed him until he disappeared, her brows furrowed. A moment later, she noticed Moiraine rise silently from across the clearing, her blue shawl flowing behind her like water as she trailed after Rand at a distance. Elyndria’s shoulders tensed at the sight. “That’s a conversation I have no desire to witness,” she muttered, shaking her head slightly.

Egwene, seated across from her, raised a brow. “You mean the one where Moiraine lectures him and he pretends not to hear her?”

Elyndria huffed a quiet laugh. “Exactly. Or the one where he snaps at her and she looks at him like he’s a boy throwing a tantrum in the Hall of the Tower.”

They were both quiet for a beat, the fire crackling gently between them. Then Egwene spoke, her voice softer now. “They were never able to speak easily…not when she saved us at the Two Rivers or on our journey to Fal Dara. He never quite trusted Moiraine”

Elyndria looked into the flames. “I think he wants too sometimes. But Moiraine’s always two steps ahead, and Rand’s tired of being pushed without understanding why.”

Egwene nodded thoughtfully. “He’s carrying so much. More than anyone should.”

The fire crackled between them, its glow painting soft light across Egwene’s face as she glanced sideways at Elyndria. The other woman was quiet, her gaze fixed on the flames, a tenseness in her shoulders that hadn’t eased in days.

“I’ve noticed how tired you’ve been,” Egwene said gently, breaking the silence. “You try to hide it, but it’s there. In your eyes. In the way you move.”

Elyndria didn’t respond at first. Her fingers traced the rim of her empty cup slowly, over and over again, as though it could distract her from the ache tightening in her chest. “I’m fine,” she said eventually, softly.

Egwene gave her a look that was kind, but firm. “Don’t lie to me. I know we haven’t had time to sit like this and speak to each other. But I’m still your friend, Elyndria. If something’s hurting you, I want to help. Please. Let me.”

There was a pause. The fire popped, and in the distance, a nightbird called out once before the silence returned. Elyndria swallowed hard and gave a small, reluctant nod. Her voice was quiet, barely more than a breath. “Nightmares.” Egwene waited, eyes steady, patient. “They’re horrible,” Elyndria said, eyes still on the fire. “But they’re not just nightmares. They’re memories.”

Egwene’s brows knit together in concern, and she reached over, gently placing her hand over Elyndria’s. Her touch was warm and steady. “Of the Tower?” she asked.

Elyndria shook her head slowly, and when she spoke again, her voice was thinner, more frayed. “No. Not the Tower.” Her gaze stayed locked on the fire as if she couldn’t bear to look away. “I started having dreams after Fal Dara. These horrible nightmares of me running in a burning building with bodies around me. I couldn't make sense of it. It felt like I knew those people, the walls that were burning down. And I always felt scared. Not for myself, but for someone else.”

Egwene leaned in closer, the firelight reflecting off the worried furrow of her brow.

“I didn’t know what it meant,” Elyndria continued, her voice catching slightly, “and then Lanfear spoke to me while we were in the Waygate to Falme. She said she recognized my soul.” Egwene’s breath hitched, her face dropping in shock. “Moiraine believed that perhaps I was a soul that had lived when they did—the Forsaken and Lews Therin. That the Wheel had spun me back out for a reason.”

“Soul memories?” Egwene asked, surprised. “But... souls don’t remember past lives.”

Elyndria nodded shakily. “Moiraine thinks that the Waygate we went through when going to Fal Dara, that the Machin Shin whispers—she thinks they triggered something. Kickstarted memories that should have never been remembered.”

Egwene stared at her, eyes wide. “Light... Elyndria.”

Elyndria finally turned her head, just enough to meet Egwene’s gaze. “And now it’s worse. The dreams feel real. Like I’m reliving something. I see the faces of children, feel myself scream and beg, but the One Power never comes. I'm helpless.”

Egwene frowned, her brow furrowing with concern. “And do you… do you know? The person your soul was connected to?”

Elyndria hesitated, swallowing hard. Her breath caught in her throat, and she almost didn’t say it, but the words tumbled out, heavy in her chest. “Yes,” she whispered, barely more than a breath. “Ilyena. Lews Therin’s wife.” The silence that followed was thick, the crackle of the fire the only sound between them. Elyndria glanced at the flames, the warm glow reminding her of the quiet, happy moments she had once dreamt of. Her voice shook as she spoke again. “It explains so much. About my dreams. About how it was so easy to fall into friendship with Rand… like something in me already knew him.”

Egwene blinked, as if trying to process the weight of what Elyndria had just said. She dragged her fingers through her short hair, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “Light,” she murmured. “Ilyena.” Her voice was soft. “How long have you known?”

“Weeks now,” Elyndria said, her voice barely audible. She gave a weak shrug, her shoulders slumping. “Only Rand knows. I haven’t told Moiraine… but I’m sure she’s already guessed. With how far in her head she can get, she always knows more than she lets on.” Elyndria looked down at her hands, tracing the lines on her palms, trying to steady herself. She didn’t like talking about this. It felt too raw, too dangerous to voice. But she had to say it, had to share it with someone. “I don’t like… talking about it so much,” Elyndria whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “Before, it was nice. I was dreaming good things. Memories, maybe, of Ilyena’s life. Quiet moments between her and Lews. The laughter of their children. The warmth of their home. The way she loved him…”

The words broke in Elyndria’s throat, and she quickly looked away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “Now it’s just nightmares. Of them dying. Of Lews killing them. And I can’t—” She stopped, her voice cracking, trying desperately not to fall apart. “I can’t talk about those things with Rand.”

Elyndria felt the heat of the bond between them, the pulsing ache of his emotions mixing with hers. It was hard to bear, but she’d learned to carry it. To live with it. But she didn’t know if she could carry this too.

“I can feel it in his soul,” Elyndria whispered, her voice barely there, trembling. “How much it hurts him when they’re brought up. He tries to hide it, but I know. If he knew what I was dreaming about now… the details of every nightmare… I don’t think he could bear it.” Elyndria closed her eyes, fighting the sudden wave of exhaustion that threatened to sweep over her. She had to keep going, had to be strong. But it was hard. Too hard. “And the worst part is,” Elyndria said, her voice thin, “sometimes… I don’t know if it’s his pain I feel through the bond… or if it’s mine.”

Egwene’s expression softened with deep compassion. She leaned forward, her voice gentle and sure. “Elyndria... you don’t have to carry this alone. I know you want to protect him—and I understand why—but you’re allowed to lean on someone too. Rand would want to carry this with you. You said your souls knew each other, loved each other once in the past… don’t you think that he’d want to share this pain if it meant you wouldn’t face it alone?”

Elyndria closed her eyes, her lashes wet. “I don’t want him to see me like this. Broken. Haunted.”

“You’re not broken,” Egwene said firmly, her voice never rising, but holding steel. “You’re remembering something no one should ever have to live through, in any life. And you’re surviving it. That doesn’t make you weak, Elyndria—it makes you strong.”

There was silence then, save the crackle of the fire between them. Elyndria turned her face just slightly, enough to look at Egwene, her walls trembling but not yet fallen.

Egwene’s fingers brushed softly over hers. “When you’re ready to tell him everything… or even if you never are. I’m here. You’re not alone, not ever.”

Elyndria gave the barest of nods, and for the first time in days, a tear slipped down her cheek not from fear or pain—but from the soft, unexpected grace of being understood. The silence stretched again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was shared, heavy with what had been spoken and what was still being carried in silence.

Then, softly, Egwene broke it.

“I’ve been having nightmares too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as though the fire itself might lash out if she spoke any louder. “Of Falme. Of the leash.”

Elyndria turned to look at her, brows furrowed, a flicker of shared pain sparking between them.

“I keep seeing Renna,” Egwene continued, her voice tightening as she spoke the name. “The one who held my leash the tightest when I was… damane.” She spat the word like poison, and her shoulders curled in slightly. “I see her every time I close my eyes. I dream of her yanking the collar, making me kneel, smile, obey. She… she’d smile while she did it. And even now, I can still feel it around my neck, sometimes. That burning… that shame.”

Elyndria’s heart clenched, her breath catching. “Egwene…”

Egwene shook her head slightly, blinking quickly. “That’s why I’m training with the Wise Ones,” she said, voice trembling but firm. “Not just to learn Dreamwalking. I want to take back control. Of my dreams. Of myself. I want to make sure that woman never has power over me again. Not in dreams. Not anywhere.”

There was a long pause, thick with unspoken emotion.

“I had no idea,” Elyndria murmured, reaching out again, her grip stronger this time. “You’ve been walking with this pain in silence all this time…”

“So have you,” Egwene said gently. “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? We keep thinking we have to be strong alone. But we don’t.”

Elyndria let out a soft, weary laugh that was more breath than sound. “We really are fools sometimes, aren’t we?”

“Absolutely,” Egwene said with a small smile.

For a moment, they just sat like that, side by side beside the fire, the flames casting gold across their faces. The night stretched around them, vast and silent, but no longer quite as heavy.

“We’ll get through it,” Egwene said finally, with a quiet conviction that rang like steel beneath her softness. “Your dreams. Mine. Whatever lies ahead in Rhuidean… we’ll get through it. Together.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, and the firelight caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes. But there was something steadier in her now, too. Something beginning to mend. “Together.”

They lingered by the fire, its glow softening as the night deepened, shadows dancing across the sand and their quiet conversation. After the pain shared between them, the silence that followed felt warmer, more companionable. Slowly, their talk turned toward gentler things—fragments of the world they had left behind.

“I miss my families inn,” Egwene murmured, tracing idle patterns in the dirt with her finger. “They had these little honey cakes, baked fresh every morning by my mum. Light, I would give anything for one of those right now.”

Elyndria smiled faintly. “There was a bookseller in Tal Valor—just this tiny shop tucked between a dressmaker and a cobbler. I used to get lost there for hours. The owner always saved the newest tales for me.”

Egwene laughed softly. “You and your books.”

“You and your food,” Elyndria shot back with a smirk, nudging her with her elbow.

Egwene grinned, then turned her gaze skyward. “I miss music, too. Not the drums and pipes here, but proper music. Strings and voices and dancing.”

They sat like that for a while longer, quietly exchanging memories, letting the soft crackle of the dying fire weave around their words like threads of comfort. But eventually the flames grew low, and the cold of the desert night began to creep in.

“I suppose we should get some sleep,” Egwene said, rising to her feet and brushing the dust from her skirts.

Elyndria nodded, standing with her. “Tomorrow will be long. For all of us.”

They hugged—brief, warm—and then parted, each heading to their own tent.

Inside her own, Elyndria moved through the quiet motions of undressing. She slipped the outer robes off her shoulders, the soft fabric pooling silently around her feet. She reached for her nightdress, the pale linen cool against her fingers, and began to pull it over her head when—

A prickle at the back of her neck. That weightless pressure, unmistakable, like being watched by someone not trying to hide it. A smile curved her lips before she even turned.

“Are you just going to gawk, Rand al’Thor,” she said lightly, tugging the fabric down over her hips, “or are you coming to bed?”

There was a beat of silence. Then the soft sound of his boots against the sand, and the canvas rustling behind her as he stepped inside. He stood just inside the flap of the tent, tall and quiet, silhouetted against the soft silver of the moonlight outside. Elyndria turned slightly to glance at him over her shoulder, catching the familiar war between hesitation and longing in his eyes. The look he always wore when he wasn’t sure he deserved this—her, peace, rest—but wanted it all the same.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Rand murmured, his voice low, almost rough. “You and Egwene looked deep in talk.”

Elyndria tugged her braid over her shoulder, brushing the light strands between her fingers. “We were. Sometimes it helps… talking about the things we’re too stubborn to say out loud.”

Rand’s eyes traced her face, pausing on the corners of her mouth, the softness in her gaze. “Did it help?” he asked.

Her expression flickered, uncertain. “Yes. And no.” She looked at him fully now, stepping closer, the distance between them evaporating like mist under the morning sun. “But it helped to be heard. To not carry it all alone.”

Rand’s hand lifted slowly, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. “You’re not alone.”

The words sat between them, simple and unadorned—and yet Elyndria felt the weight of them all the way to her bones. She leaned into his touch, her eyes falling shut for a heartbeat.

“I know,” she whispered.

They stood that way for a breath, two, the silence thick with the intimacy of unspoken thoughts. Then Elyndria reached up, fingers curling gently around the front of Rand’s shirt, and guided him the rest of the way into the tent. The flap fell closed behind him, sealing them away from the night and the world beyond.

Rand drew in a slow breath as she stepped back toward the bedroll, lowering herself onto the furs. “It’s a long day tomorrow,” she said softly, looking up at him. “You’ll need your rest.”

He gave a soft huff of a laugh, one corner of his mouth tugging upward. “I don’t think I’ll sleep. Not well.”

“Then lay with me,” Elyndria said, reaching her hand out. “Even if only for a little while.”

Rand hesitated for only a moment before sinking down beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist as she nestled against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear was steady, a comfort in the growing stillness of the night.

The desert wind whispered faintly against the canvas, and somewhere in the distance, a coyote cried to the stars. But inside the tent, the world had quieted to just the two of them.

“Did you tell Moiraine about Rhuidean?” Elyndria spoke up breaking the quietness.

Rand let out a long breath through his nose, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. Elyndria felt the tension in his body—coiled like a bowstring—as he stared up at the ceiling of the tent, eyes lost to shadows.

“She said I should wait,” he muttered. “That I’m not ready. That the Aiel aren’t ready. That the world isn’t ready.” His voice turned bitter at the edges. “But no one is ever ready for what they’re given. Not me. Not her.”

Elyndria shifted, resting her chin gently on his chest so she could look up at him. “How did she react when you told her it would be tomorrow?”

Rand snorted. “What do you expect? She was displeased.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “She thinks me reckless. Said as much. Again.”

“She wants your trust,” Elyndria said quietly, “yet you don’t think she trusts you.”

Rand’s jaw worked for a moment before he shook his head. “She doesn’t. Not truly. I see it in her eyes, Elyndria. She watches me when I train with Lan like she expects me to suddenly snap—to burn the sand to glass or start screaming at things that aren’t there.”

Elyndria didn’t respond at first. She let the silence stretch between them, let the weight of his words settle. Her fingers lightly traced the stitching on his shirt, grounding both of them in the quiet.

“She’s worried about you,” she said finally. “Just like the rest of us. Perhaps more than most.” Rand turned his head to meet her gaze, his expression unreadable. Elyndria held his eyes, her voice low and thoughtful. “It was her mission to find the Dragon Reborn for years—decades even. The things she must have planned, the thoughts she must have clung to, the sacrifices she’s made to get to this moment…” She paused. “We can never know how tightly she held onto it all. Finding the Dragon. Guiding him. Guiding you.” Elyndria reached up, her fingers brushing gently along his temple, smoothing the tension there. “And now that she has found you, I think all those carefully laid thoughts and plans have been thrown into the wind—like ash off a fire. Left her stumbling. And that’s something Moiraine doesn’t take kindly to.”

Rand’s expression softened, a flicker of guilt passing behind his eyes. “I know she’s trying,” he murmured. “But Light, Elyndria… so am I. Every moment of every day.”

“I know,” she whispered. “And I see you trying. I feel it in the bond.”

Rand’s fingers threaded loosely through Elyndria’s, his thumb brushing absently along the back of her hand. The soft movement was a contrast to the storm she knew still churned in his chest. He had grown leaner, harder since Falme but beneath all that weight of prophecy, there were still moments like this. Quiet. Human.

His voice broke the silence, low and raw. “Do you think I’ll come back the same?”

Elyndria blinked, the question cutting through her more than she expected. She raised her eyes to his, studying the flicker of doubt there—rare and unguarded.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I think Rhuidean will change you. But I don’t think that’s something to fear.” Her fingers curled more tightly around his. “You’ve changed before. And you’ve always come back to yourself. Maybe a little bruised, maybe a little more burdened... but still you.”

Rand looked away, his jaw tightening. “What if I lose control in there? What if I see something that breaks me?”

Elyndria reached up and placed a hand against his cheek, gently turning his face back toward hers. “Then you come back to me. And we piece you back together. Brick by brick. Breath by breath.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his forehead to hers. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It isn’t,” she whispered. “But it’s true.”

They stayed like that, the world narrowing to the warmth of skin, the rhythm of breath, the steady grounding of each other. Eventually, Rand spoke again, softer this time. “You believe in me more than I believe in myself sometimes.”

Elyndria smiled faintly. “Then we take turns holding the belief. That’s what being beside you means.”

Rand let out a breath—half laugh, half sigh—and pulled her closer. “Light, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You had the good luck of being born again with me tangled into your fate,” she said lightly, though her voice was thick with quiet emotion.

They laid there, folded into one another like pieces of the same story. And though tomorrow loomed like a mountain on the horizon, for now, in this single fragile moment, the world held still.

 

Chapter 29: The trials of Rhuidean

The next morning came with little ceremony, but with a heaviness that pressed against Elyndria’s chest before her eyes even opened. The air inside the tent was cool, still touched by the lingering chill of night, but beyond the canvas, the camp of the Taardad Aiel was already stirring. Soft voices murmured, boots crunched in the dust, and the sounds of tents being dismantled filled the air with a quiet but urgent rhythm. Elyndria blinked awake to the light slanting through the tent flaps. Rand was already sitting up beside her, bare-chested and running a hand through his tousled hair, his expression unreadable in the pale light. His gaze flicked to her the moment she stirred.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” he said gently. “Half a day’s walk, they said.”

She nodded, still half caught in that drifting space between dreams and waking. Her body was stiff from sleeping on the hard ground, but she forced herself to sit up, to move. There was no room for hesitation—not today. They dressed in silence. Elyndria’s fingers were clumsy as she wrapped her belt around her waist and laced up her boots, her mind already ahead, already tracing the path through the desert. She hissed softly when her tunic brushed against her shoulders—sunburn, bright and sore from the days under the harsh light of the Waste. Rand noticed.

“Here,” he said, standing behind her, a long strip of pale cloth in his hands. Carefully, he wrapped the scarf around her head and over her shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheeks as he secured it in place. “You’ll burn more if you don’t cover up.”

Elyndria smiled faintly, touched by the small gesture. “Thank you.”

He paused for a heartbeat, fingers lingering. “You look like one of them,” he murmured. “The Aiel.”

She gave him a half-smile. “I don’t feel like one.”

“Neither do I.” His voice was low, distant.

By the time they stepped outside, the full sun had crested over the mountains. The Aiel were already formed in quiet lines, preparing to break camp and begin their march toward Rhuidean. The Wise Ones stood together at the front, composed and unreadable as ever. Moiraine waited near them, her face veiled with calm but her eyes flicking toward Rand often, sharp and worried. Egwene stood a little apart, her own pack already slung over her shoulder, the wind tugging at her dark hair.

Elyndria moved to stand beside her, the dry sand crunching beneath her boots.

“Ready?” Egwene asked softly, her gaze searching Elyndria’s face.

“As I’ll ever be,” Elyndria replied, offering a small smile. Her heart was already pounding.

When Rand joined them, there were no words exchanged. He simply fell into step beside her, his eyes on the horizon. The moment had come, and words would not change it.

They began to walk.

The Aiel were like shadows in motion, silent and sure-footed on the dusty ground. The sun climbed steadily, the air thickening with heat. Elyndria drank deeply from her waterskin and kept her pace even, her eyes focused forward on the distance where the city in the clouds waited—Rhuidean. The name itself seemed to pulse in her mind, heavy with mystery and foreboding. She glanced at Rand from time to time. His face was set, unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders told her enough. This was more than a journey for him. It was a reckoning. A turning point in a story that had never truly belonged to him.

And she would walk every step of it with him.

They had walked for hours in silence, the sun baking the red stone beneath their boots, the wind a dry whisper over the dunes. The land had stretched on endlessly, the sky so wide and harsh it felt like a dome of fire above them. Then, slowly, the horizon shifted—something shimmered ahead, like a mirage solidifying.

Rand had fallen into step beside Rhuarc, his brow furrowed. “So, you’ve been,” he said after a while, not looking at him.

Rhuarc nodded once. “All clan chiefs must go.”

“For the trial,” Rand said, his voice carefully neutral.

Rhuarc’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. “Clan chiefs can only speak of the city to others who have been,” he said plainly. No malice, but a firm line.

Rand exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly biting back frustration. Elyndria watched him from just behind, her steps even, steady. She felt the pulse of tension winding tighter in him. He asked another question. “If all clan chiefs and Wise Ones go to Rhuidean, is there anything different for the Car'a'carn?”

Rhuarc was quiet for a moment, considering. Then, in that same measured tone, he said, “We are marked by Rhuidean. The very few that make it out alive—every chief, on the left arm. The People of the Dragon. That’s what they called us once. The Car’a’carn, he who comes with the dawn, will be marked twice. And that is how we will know him.”

He pushed back his sleeve, revealing a sinuous mark etched into his sun-darkened skin—a dragon tattoo that coiled along his left forearm. Rand stared at it, eyes unreadable. Elyndria’s gaze flicked between them—Rand so tense he looked like he might splinter apart, and Rhuarc, steady as stone. They continued in silence after that, words dried up under the weight of meaning. The wind picked up, dust curling around their feet as the last rise loomed ahead. Then they crested it—and Rhuidean came into view.

Elyndria stopped dead, her breath catching in her throat.

The city lay nestled within the hollow of a wide canyon, wreathed in a thin, shimmering mist that gave it the illusion of floating in the air—a city of pale towers and gleaming stone, untouched by time, carved into graceful spires and domes. No roads led in or out. No movement stirred within. It stood still, silent… eternal.

“The city in the clouds…” Elyndria breathed, awe softening her voice. “It’s beautiful.”

Rand said nothing, only stared, his face pale and solemn.

The city of prophecy awaited.

Before they would continue further a sound came like a ripple in still water—hooting in the distance, quick and sharp. Elyndria turned her head as others did, feeling the sudden shift in the air. The rhythm of the hoots stirred tension through the Taardad Aiel, and a murmur ran through the group. Ahead of them, Rhuarc had gone still. His gaze locked on the figures appearing near the edge of the city, where tents had been pitched in an irregular line. Shapes moved among them—quick, purposeful. They weren’t Taardad.

“Shaido,” Rhuarc said, low and clipped, the word carrying more weight than just a name. His breath left him heavily, and for a moment he looked like he might drag a hand over his face in frustration. Instead, he reached for the veil at his neck and pulled it up, covering the lower half of his face. The others followed immediately. Dark veils were drawn over stern expressions, and spears shifted in hands. The Aiel moved swiftly, breaking into a run without a word, charging down the slope like shadows stretching toward the east.

Elyndria’s heart skipped. She turned to Egwene, her voice barely above a whisper. “The Shaido are the ones Aviendha spoke of. The ones who might’ve killed the Tuatha’an.”

Beside her, Egwene’s expression turned grim. She gave a short, hard nod, eyes narrowing toward the gathering below. Where the Taardad Aiel moved with practiced ease, the Shaido met them with an equal, silent presence. Their cadin’sor was darker—shades of deep gray and muddy brown that made the Taardad’s pale clothing seem almost ceremonial in comparison. Though there were no words spoken, the tension between the two clans was unmistakable. The air itself felt thick with it.

Then Bair stepped forward, walking with a calm, unshakable presence. Her hands were raised slightly, palms forward—not in surrender, but in peace. Her voice carried with a firmness that commanded attention. “The peace of Rhuidean be on you. Who comes to Chaendaer may return to their holds in peace.”

For a moment, the Shaido remained still. Then a woman moved from their ranks—middle-aged, tall and straight-backed. Her dark dress bore deep crimson touches, and she was clearly not a warrior. A Wise One, perhaps. She carried herself with a quiet authority, her features composed and cool. She regarded Bair in silence before giving the barest nod. “There shall be no blood on the ground.”

That was enough. Slowly, the Taardad Aiel lowered their veils. The moment did not ease into friendliness, but it diffused the threat, like thunder retreating into the horizon.

Bair stepped forward again, nearing the Shaido woman. They stood face to face, saying nothing, the space between them charged with unspoken understanding. Then Bair turned back to the others.

“Come.”

The command carried an unmistakable tone—there would be no argument. Both groups began to move, their steps measured, spears lowered but not relaxed.

Elyndria kept close to Rand and Egwene as they followed, careful to keep pace without drawing attention. Behind them, Moiraine and Lan walked silently, Moiraine’s gaze sharp as steel. Her eyes lingered on the Shaido, the ones who still held tightly to their spears in particular. They were led beneath a wide, low-pitched tent, the kind that allowed the heat to rise but kept the sun at bay. The fabric rippled faintly in the desert wind, and shadows clung to the edges where the walls flapped open. The two Aiel clans did not follow inside, instead lingering just beyond the canopy—watchful, silent, their presence a constant tension humming in the background. Spears were not raised, but hands did not stray far from them either.

Elyndria moved with quiet steps beside Rand and Egwene, her eyes adjusting to the diffused light within. Rhuarc was already speaking quietly with Bair and Melaine near the center. Moiraine and Lan hovered toward the back, ever alert, the space between them taut with unspoken tension. She felt eyes on her before she saw him—a young Shaido man standing near the tall woman who had spoken earlier. His arms were folded tightly, his jaw set with scorn. His eyes swept over Rand, then Egwene, then Elyndria, like a blade flicking across a throat.

“Who is he?” Elyndria asked softly, her voice barely above a breath as she leaned closer to Melaine, nodding subtly toward the glowering man.

“That is Couladin,” Melaine murmured. “Son of the Shaido’s chief.”

Before Elyndria could ask more, Couladin’s voice cut through the tent like a knife.

“You brought wetlanders to Rhuidean.”

Rhuarc didn’t so much as flinch. He turned toward the Shaido woman with calm authority. “Where is your husband, Sevanna?”

The woman, who had spoken earlier with that cool detachment, groaned audibly and rolled her eyes with theatrical boredom. “Dead,” she said, waving a hand as if dismissing an old meal. “My new husband, his son, Muradin, has entered Rhuidean, and he is there still.”

Couladin stepped forward then, chest lifted like a crow strutting before a storm. “And should my brother fail, I will enter.”

Bair’s face remained composed, but her voice held a warning note. “You have not asked, Couladin. Should Muradin fail, ask then. We are two, enough to say yes or no.”

Sevanna’s lips curled. “And why have you come to Rhuidean, Rhuarc? You’ve looked better,” she added with pointed disdain, “but it appears the Taardad still have their chief.”

Rand stepped forward before Rhuarc could respond. Elyndria felt his presence shift, become centered, as though something deep within him had solidified.

“I ask your leave to enter Rhuidean,” he said, voice clear and firm.

Bair didn’t hesitate. “The question has been asked. I answer yes.”

Couladin’s snarl was immediate. “This man is no Aiel. It is death for him to be on this ground.”

“My mother was Aiel,” Rand replied, jaw tight.

Beside him, Elyndria felt the heat rising from his skin—not just from the desert sun, but from the fire simmering just beneath his calm expression.

Bair glanced at him. “Your father, yes,” she said gently. “But your mother—”

“He presents himself like a woman!” Couladin barked, stepping forward.

The air turned sharp with tension. Elyndria didn’t move, though her instincts screamed at her to reach for something—anything—to stop whatever was about to happen. Then Bair’s voice cracked through the air like lightning. “Do you wish to be a Wise One, Couladin?” she asked, smooth as silk and sharper than steel. “Put on a dress and come to me, and I will see if you can be trained. Until then, be silent when Wise Ones speak.”

Couladin froze, his face mottling with rage. Sevanna didn’t hide her smirk.

“Melaine?” Bair asked, still holding her gaze on Couladin.

“It must be done,” Melaine said. “I answer yes.”

Couladin moved like a striking snake—sudden, violent. His hand went for the spear at his back as he surged toward Rand, teeth bared, a growl already ripping from his throat. Elyndria’s breath caught—too fast to move, too slow to act. But Bair moved faster. The air snapped, almost soundless, but it shimmered with force. Couladin was thrown backward by an unseen hand, crashing to the ground in a tangled heap. He snarled, trying to push himself up with wild, jerking movements, grunting as he struggled against whatever held him. Elyndria instinctively stepped back, heart racing, her gaze locking on Bair.

It was the first time she had seen the older Wise One channel.

Bair’s calm demeanor had always masked something powerful, something immovable. But seeing her wield the One Power now, so effortlessly, so commandingly—it sent a small ripple of awe through Elyndria’s chest. There was nothing passive about her now. She was stone and flame, wrapped in a storm of quiet authority.

“You try to make this wetlander one of us?” Couladin spat as he fought to his feet, panting heavily. “He is soft. Rhuidean will kill him.”

Elyndria’s eyes flicked to Rand. He stood still as stone, his expression blank—but through the bond, she could feel him. His wariness. His fear. It sat just beneath the surface like a current beneath calm water.

“Go back to your tents, Couladin,” Bair snapped, her voice like thunder against the silence. “Now.”

Couladin grimaced, his pride clearly wounded, but he did as he was told, backing away with a final glare at Rand before stalking out of the tent.

Bair exhaled slowly, then turned toward the rest of them. “You as well, Rhuarc,” she said, not unkindly. “And you, Aan'allein.” Lan inclined his head, eyes never leaving Rand, then moved to follow Rhuarc out. “This is the business of Wise Ones,” Bair continued, her tone firm. “And no man other than he who has asked. You as well, Egwene. And Elyndria.”

Egwene nodded slowly. She stepped forward, reaching for Rand’s arm, her grip tight and quick. “Good luck,” she said softly, her smile faint but brave.

She turned without another word and exited the tent, her skirts catching the wind as she walked. Lan followed her like a silent shadow. Elyndria stood for a moment, her mouth suddenly dry. She licked her lips, then looked up at Rand. His eyes were locked on hers, unflinching now, though the bond between them still pulsed with nervousness. She stepped closer, raising her hands to his.

“You’re going to come back, Rand al’Thor,” she said, voice low but firm. “You promised, remember?”

Rand’s breath shuddered out. He nodded, clutching her hands tightly. “I did, didn’t I?”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, her heart aching with all the things she wanted to say but couldn't find the time or space to speak aloud. So instead, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips—quick, gentle, grounding. And then she turned and walked away, not looking back.

---

 

They lingered near the tents, the air thick with heat and a tension that had yet to settle. The Taardad Aiel milled quietly in the distance, silent sentinels around Chaendaer’s base. Elyndria kept her eyes on the trail leading into the cloud-veiled mountains, the way Rand and Moiraine had gone with the Wise Ones. She did not know why Moiraine went with them. Perhaps Moiraine had wanted to see Rand enter the city in the clouds with her own eyes, or if she had a sense of duty to lead him to Rhuidean. Elyndria did not know. Lan had kept quiet when she had asked, answering her question with a simple quiet shrug.

She stood with arms loosely crossed, her fingers tapping softly against her elbows, betraying the calm she tried to project. The silence around them didn’t help. Lan said nothing. Even Egwene, usually quick with a question or opinion, remained quiet, sitting on a low stone with her eyes fixed on the mountains. Elyndria hated this part—the waiting. Her heart pulled toward that mist-veiled city, even though she knew she couldn’t follow. That wasn’t her path. Not yet. But the bond… It was there, faint like a candle burning behind thick glass, unreachable. She wasn’t used to that. Even when Rand was angry or afraid or lost in his own thoughts, there was something—a flicker of emotion, a pulse of warmth or pressure. But now it was distant. Silent. She couldn’t tell if he was hurting, or if he was afraid, or if he even knew she was thinking about him at all.

Her brow furrowed. She’d kissed him before he left. It had felt grounding, necessary—real in a way nothing else had that day. There had been no time for words, just that brief moment to anchor each other before he would enter the mists that would swallow him whole. And now? Was he being torn apart and put back together again, by whatever trial he was doing? Or had he already passed into whatever lay beyond? She didn’t know. And that—not knowing—sat like a stone in her chest. Elyndria wrapped her arms around herself, not for warmth, but for something to hold onto.

She wasn’t panicking. Not yet. But her thoughts moved in tight circles. What if something had gone wrong? What if—

She shook her head. No. Stop. Rand was strong. Stronger than he even believed. He would come back. She had to believe that. Still, as she glanced back toward the trail again, her fingers brushed over the bond at her chest. Just for a heartbeat, she wished she could push past the fog and find him. Reach him.

An hour passed. Then two.

It was Bair and Melaine who returned, walking towards their small group with calm, unreadable expressions. Their veils were lowered, and neither looked particularly hurried. But Moiraine wasn't with them.

Egwene stepped forward from where she’d been standing beside Lan, her brow furrowed. “Where is Moiraine?” she asked, confused.

“She asked to enter,” Melaine replied evenly. “We both accepted.”

“But—” Egwene’s frown deepened. “Why? I thought only men seeking to become clan chiefs and women training to be Wise Ones entered.”

“It is in her path to go,” Bair said simply, folding her hands. “There are truths inside Rhuidean, for those who need them.”

“And is it in her path—and Rand’s—to come back out of it?” Egwene’s voice was soft now, hesitant. The question lingered like a chill.

There was a pause—three heartbeats long. Bair and Melaine looked at each other, and Elyndria felt her stomach twist.

“We see many paths,” Bair said at last. “Some lead back……”

Some don’t, Elyndria thought, her chest hollowing out. The words were unspoken but clear.

She turned from the Wise Ones and lowered herself to the ground beside the campfire the Taardad Aiel had lit. The flames were low but steady, smoke curling into the darkening sky. She brought her knees to her chest, watching the embers crackle. Rand was somewhere beyond the veil of clouds and mist. Moiraine too. And the silence between now and when—or if—they returned stretched impossibly wide.

“Then we wait,” Elyndria said quietly, but her voice was steady with resolve.

Lan looked at her for a long moment, then gave a single approving nod. Without a word, he sat beside her, his face as unreadable as ever, his presence solid as stone.

“We will wait,” he said simply. “As long as it takes.”

---

 

The fire crackled softly, the only sound as dusk stretched across the red-tinged sky. The mountains in the distance were cloaked in deepening shadow, their jagged silhouettes jagged like old scars. Elyndria watched the smoke curl upward, trying not to think of how high and far Rhuidean lay hidden within that cloudy veil. She tried not to think of Rand—or of the silence where his emotions should have pressed gently against her mind.

The Wise Ones said the bond would dull when he entered. She hadn’t imagined it would feel so empty.

Around the fire, the Taardad Aiel spoke in low tones, sharing food and water among themselves. Their presence was grounding in its stillness. There was no panic among them, no fear. But she could see how often their eyes drifted toward the path into Rhuidean, even if their faces gave nothing away. Egwene returned after speaking with Bair and sat beside Elyndria, folding her legs beneath her. The look on her face was tight with worry, though she tried to hide it behind calm.

“I hate this,” she murmured after a few minutes, when only the night insects chirped. “The waiting. Not knowing.”

Elyndria nodded faintly, drawing her shawl closer around her shoulders as the night cooled. “He was nervous,” she said softly, not looking away from the fire. “He tried to hide it, but I could feel it. Just before he entered… it was like standing on the edge of something vast and dark.”

“I could tell too,” Egwene admitted. “He’s changing, more and more every day. I think sometimes he’s afraid of what’s happening to him… and what it’ll mean if he fails.”

Elyndria swallowed and rubbed her arms. “He won’t fail.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, then Egwene gently nudged her shoulder. “And you? Are you all right?”

Elyndria didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the flickering flames. “I will be,” she said eventually. “When he walks back out of that city.”

Lan stood a little apart from them, sharpening his blade out of habit more than need, his attention half on the fire, half on the mountains. His presence was comforting in its own way—unmoving, dependable, like a stone wall shielding them from what they feared to name.

The night deepened. More stars came out. The air grew cold enough for cloaks and hot tea. Someone passed her a steaming cup, and she took it with quiet thanks.

Around them, the two clans kept to their edges. The Shaido watched with sharp eyes, their mistrust palpable but restrained. Elyndria could feel the tension like a drawn bowstring. The peace of Rhuidean had been spoken aloud—but peace, she thought, was a fragile thing. At some point, Egwene lay back on her bedroll and closed her eyes. Lan remained awake. So did Elyndria. She stared up at the stars, trying to lose herself in their quiet distance. But even the stars looked watchful tonight.

And so, they waited. Under the weight of the mountain, under the cover of silence, while Rhuidean held its secrets close. It had been four days. Four days of silence from Rhuidean. Four days of waiting, of tension that coiled like a wire pulled too tight. Elyndria could feel it in her chest—heavier each morning, heavier still by nightfall. The waiting had become a kind of torment, one that ate at her strength as surely as the heat of the Waste drained her body.

Rand and Moiraine had not come back yet to them. And Muradin had not returned either.

That absence pressed on the Shaido like a thundercloud, its promise of violence just under the surface. Distrust lingered thick in the air between the two clans, the space between their tents carefully measured but charged. Elyndria often caught the way the Shaido looked at them—as if they were already judging the cost of spilling blood.

Lan had not left her and Egwene’s side since the first morning.

During the day, the Warder moved like a shadow at their backs while they practiced weaving threads of Air and Water under the watchful gaze of Melaine and Bair. He offered no commentary, no interruption—just silent vigilance, his eyes fixed on the Shaido. Elyndria noticed the way his hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword.

At night, the waiting grew worse.

The dreams offered no peace. Elyndria still walked through fire. Still saw the faces of the dead. Still reached for the One Power and found nothing but ash. It had grown so terrible that even Egwene, haunted by her own captivity and the shadow of Renna’s leash, now refused to sleep alone. They lay close, sometimes clinging to each other, trembling after waking. It was on the second night that Lan began brewing the tea. The one Bair had prepared in Imre Stand that calmed the body and mind.

He didn’t say anything the first time—just held the cup out to Elyndria when she sat up gasping in the dark, her hair damp with sweat. She took it with trembling fingers, murmured a thank-you, and drank in silence. Egwene had woken later that night, and he was ready again.

By the second night, it became routine.

Elyndria would wake, sometimes weeping, and Lan would be there with the tea. Sometimes, he would set it between them and simply sit nearby, keeping the fire stoked low, his face unreadable. But there was comfort in that steadiness. A constant. The Wise Ones never commented on it, though Elyndria saw the knowing glances they shared. Perhaps they knew what Elyndria was seeing in her dreams, her nightmares that woke her up every night. Egwene sometimes cried in her sleep now. Quiet, muffled sounds that Elyndria hated hearing. She would reach out, shaking her gently, and they would sit together while Lan handed them tea with steady hands and no judgment.

On the fifth day in the early morning, Elyndria woke with a start—no dream this time, just a heavy stillness that settled over her chest. The fire had burned low to glowing embers, and the air was cool enough to make her arms curl inward. She sat up slowly, careful not to disturb the quiet breathing beside her. Egwene was curled on her side, her brows faintly furrowed even in sleep. Lan, uncharacteristically, was still asleep, his bedroll only a dark outline in the soft pre-dawn gloom.

Not even the Wise Ones stirred.

Elyndria wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and stood, moving slowly past the ring of sleeping forms. Her boots crunched lightly against the dust as she walked, further and further from the warmth of the fire. No one stirred. The silence felt sacred. Heavy.

She wandered toward Rhuidean, the city that rose from the Waste like a dream made stone—clouded in shimmering mist and untouched silence. As she walked, the presence of the others faded behind her, until it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just her and the city. Elyndria came to a stop, the ground dropping slightly beneath her feet, soft with wind-smoothed sand. The city loomed ahead, veiled in light fog and ancient stillness. She sat down cross-legged, letting her hands rest in her lap as she gazed out at the pale towers stretching skyward—like the bones of another age.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Rand was in there. So was Moiraine. And it had been five days now.

What were they seeing? What was Rhuidean showing them?

She pressed her palm to her chest, fingers curling slightly as if she could feel the bond there—but it was quiet. Not gone, but hushed to a whisper, veiled behind layers of Warding and whatever mysteries the city held within. She didn’t know what he was feeling in there. Didn’t know if he was in pain. Or if he was lost. Or if he was even still—

No. She couldn’t think that. Wouldn’t.

Elyndria drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. For a while, she simply sat there in silence, the breeze whispering against her skin, the sky beginning to pale with the first signs of dawn. Alone, but not entirely. The city before her didn’t move, didn’t change. But in the stillness, it felt as if it watched her too. A mirror. A warning. A promise. She stayed there, breathing quietly, watching the mists curl around Rhuidean’s towers, and whispered softly into the silence, unsure if she was speaking to herself, to Rand, or to something far greater than both.

“Come back to me whole.”

The silence around Rhuidean settled deeper, like a blanket drawn over the land. Elyndria remained where she was, knees hugged to her chest, her gaze drifting over the mist-wrapped towers. Her breath slowed, matched to the soft exhale of the wind across the sand. Still, her thoughts refused to still. So she did what she had done as a child, back when she was too anxious to sleep or when the Aes Sedai had sent her away from the White Tower with nothing but a bedroll and the fading light—she let her hands begin to move.

Her eyes closed.

The world around her faded until all she felt was the thrum of the One Power, warm and steady as a heartbeat behind her ribs. She didn’t channel for strength or destruction—not this time. This was different. Gentler. She wove like she was weaving a song. Her fingers moved through the air, slow at first, then faster—delicate motions, purposeful and instinctive all at once. Threads of Spirit, Air, and Water flowed together in fluid loops, but it was Light she found herself drawing toward more than anything else. Threads of gold and pearl-white shimmered at her fingertips, vibrant and soft, luminous without glare. They moved like silk in water, curling through the air around her, almost playful, almost alive.

And still, her eyes remained shut.

There was a weightlessness to the weaving, a soothing grace that made her feel like she was being lifted from herself, like each strand she touched eased some of the tension in her chest. She didn’t know what she was making—only that it felt good. Right. Like painting with emotion rather than thought. When she opened her eyes at last, the weaves shimmered around her in an arc of luminous threads—white and gold, flowing like ribbons in the wind. They drifted and curled in a rhythm she hadn’t consciously shaped, moving in perfect harmony. It was… beautiful.

But then something shifted.

Two threads crossed—gold twining over white—and the weaves reacted. They pulsed softly, not in alarm, but in transformation. The air around her shimmered. Light bent and danced in a new way, and suddenly the weaves weren’t just threads—they were forms. Images. Faint at first, like a watercolor come to life.A tree began to bloom before her. Pale, wide-limbed, and gently swaying in a breeze that wasn’t there. Petals—white with edges kissed in soft pink—fluttered down like snowfall. Her breath caught again.

She knew this tree.

It had stood at the edge of the Foregate, near the river, its roots buried deep in soft earth and wild grass. She and Rand had lain beneath it more than once, staring up through its leaves, hands linked between them, the hush of the water nearby like a lullaby. She could almost smell the sweetness of those warm afternoons—feel the grass in her hair, the laughter tucked in her chest.
The image flowed from her weaves now, built from memory, not logic. Behind the tree, the river glimmered in soft streaks of silver light, and distant mountains rolled faintly beyond it, like shadows captured in watercolor.

Not real. Not solid. But deeply felt.

The tree’s petals shimmered like tiny stars, and as a golden thread curled forward again, the entire illusion began to subtly shift. The petals drifted apart into glowing motes, dissolving into mist and memory. And yet it remained—her creation, born of light, guided by something deeper than thought.Elyndria sat in silence for a long moment, watching the tree she had woven from light shimmer and shift, the branches almost seeming to sway with an unseen breeze. Her fingers remained suspended in the air, as if the very motion of her hands could draw the world around her into existence. There was something deeply calming in this—more so than she could remember in recent days. It felt like coming home.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she focused on the tree, her mind drifting to the past, to the quiet riverbank in Forgate where she and Rand would lie together, the sun filtering through the leaves. The smell of water, the hum of insects in the air, the soft rustle of the branches—her heart ached for that simpler time. Her hands moved instinctively, coaxing the weave further, and as her fingers twirled and danced, the light responded to her will. It was strange, almost like an extension of herself, fluid and soft yet sharp in its precision. She could shape it, mold it, as if it were clay or thread—bringing an image to life with nothing more than her thoughts and the subtle shift of her hands.

Her eyes followed, drawn to the shimmering tree before her. It was more than just light, it was memory. It was a place she had once shared with Rand—a moment of stillness amidst the chaos. She reached out, her fingers grazing the light branches. It felt real, as real as the memories she’d cherished. And yet, there was a gentle sense of distance, like she was viewing it through a window, separated by time. But the feeling that washed over her was one of peace. It was a beautiful thing. This weaving, this new skill—it wasn’t about power or destruction. It wasn’t about the darkness of the world, the conflict, the war. It was about creation, about expression.

Elyndria took a deep breath, the weave in front of her shifting. She felt the one power—this delicate, almost spiritual dance of the light—taking on a life of its own. Without warning, her weaves shifted, intertwining into something entirely different. The tree began to morph, the light twisting and folding into an abstract shape—an intricate, living pattern, something both familiar and strange. She watched, entranced, as the light moved, coiling in the air like a living thing. It was no longer just a tree. It became something else—something she couldn’t quite name, but something that felt deeper. Something that pulled at her soul.

“What is this?” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. Was this a side of the Pattern she had never known? Was this her? This ability was… beyond mere illusion. It wasn’t about hiding, masking, or pretending to be something else. It was about expression—about taking the world she saw, her thoughts, her feelings, and weaving them into something tangible.

A laugh, soft and uncertain, escaped her lips. The weavings of light spun and twisted before her like a reflection of her own thoughts, her own heart. There was something remarkably intimate about it, this connection between her and the Pattern, this new way of shaping the world. She had never known that weaving could feel so… alive. She let the light fade slowly, the glow fading back into the morning haze. Her hands trembled slightly, but there was a warmth in her chest, a quiet confidence she hadn’t realized was there.

Perhaps this was something more than she could have hoped for. This power—this talent—couldn’t just be used for destruction. It could be used for beauty, for healing. For remembering. For connection.

And that was something she could hold onto.

---

 

It was midday as Elyndria focused on her weave, trying to lace Water into a tight spiral with just a thread of Air to guide it, when the low hooting started.

It began with a single voice—sharp and echoing across the canyon’s stone—and then more joined, rising in celebration. The sound made her flinch at first, heart lurching with alarm, but then she saw the Taardad Aiel rushing forward from the edges of camp. Excitement, not warning

“Someone’s coming,” Egwene breathed, straightening from where she knelt by a shallow basin of water, her own weave dissolving.

Lan stood without a word, already scanning the horizon.

Elyndria turned.

At first, she didn’t recognize the figure. A single person walking slowly down the slope from the misted veil that hid Rhuidean, small against the sweep of the sky and the golden stone. But then, as the Aiel surged forward to meet the walker with calls and war cries of joy, the shape came into sharper view. Red hair. Tall, proud posture, though she walked with a slight limp.

Aviendha.

Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat. She had almost forgotten. That Aviendha had gone into Rhuidean nearly a full day before Rand and Moiraine. Elyndria’s worry had narrowed so tightly on them, it had blocked out all else—every other name, every other face. But now Aviendha stood there, surrounded by her people as they gathered around her in reverent silence. The Taardad didn't touch her, but their eyes shone, and some murmured to each other with awe. Elyndria could see the fatigue on her—shoulders slumped just slightly, lips cracked, clothes hanging looser on her frame. Yet she was smiling. Faintly. Pale, shaken, but proud.

She had made it.

Elyndria's heart thudded wildly in her chest. Aviendha had been inside for six days. Six days without food or water or rest. Six days inside whatever trials Rhuidean placed upon its initiates. And she had come back.

A sense of hope bloomed inside Elyndria so sudden and bright it nearly made her dizzy.

If Aviendha had returned… perhaps that meant Rand and Moiraine could too.

Would too.

She glanced at Egwene, who was watching the scene with wide eyes and parted lips, her hands clenched in the folds of her skirts.

“She made it,” Egwene whispered.

Elyndria nodded slowly, eyes never leaving Aviendha. “She made it.”

Aviendha stood now beside the Wise Ones, her tall frame still wrapped in dust-streaked robes, a fresh head scarf tied tightly around her brow. Her eyes were sunken, her face drawn with exhaustion, but a quiet strength clung to her—something deeper than mere endurance. Elyndria watched her carefully, the way Bair and Melaine flanked her with silent approval. She supposed Aviendha was one of them now. A Wise One, reborn through fire and dust in the heart of Rhuidean.

Elyndria, Lan, and Egwene stepped forward slowly.

“It is good to see your faces again,” Aviendha said, voice low, roughened by dryness and wear. “After… everything.”

Lan nodded respectfully, his sharp eyes softening at the edges. “It is good to see your warrior spirit again.”

Aviendha smiled—more genuinely this time—and chuckled, the sound rasping faintly. “I nearly left it behind in the fog. But I am still here.”

Egwene couldn’t hold back anymore. She stepped forward, almost breathless. “Did you see them?” she asked quickly. “Rand? Moiraine?”

At her words, Elyndria’s chest tightened, breath catching with hope and dread. Her gaze locked on Aviendha, willing her to say yes.

Aviendha’s smile faltered slightly. She nodded, but her expression dimmed with memory. “Yes. I saw them in Rhuidean.” Elyndria felt her pulse roar in her ears. “Moiraine was caught in the visions,” Aviendha continued. “When I passed her… she was frozen, lost in them. I tried to call to her, but she did not hear. Did not move.”

“And Rand?” Egwene asked, her voice trembling faintly.

Aviendha turned her gaze toward Elyndria then, and something in her eyes—respect, regret, understanding—made Elyndria’s stomach drop.

“I saw him too. He was… okay. Alive. Strong. I think he was close to leaving.”

“But…?” Elyndria said sharply, her heart thudding in warning. “But what?”

Aviendha exhaled slowly, the breath long and tired. “He would not leave without her. Moiraine. He went back.”

Silence fell like a shroud around them.

Elyndria felt her knees nearly give way beneath her. Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling. “He went back,” she whispered. “Light, Rand…”

Egwene's lips parted, stunned. “He always does this.”

Lan said nothing, but his eyes darkened, jaw tightening.

“He could have been out by now,” Aviendha said gently. “But he would not let her face whatever lies within alone. He turned back into the fog, into the city, without hesitation.”

Elyndria's eyes stung, and she pressed her knuckles to her lips.

Rand. Stubborn. Selfless. Reckless. Her heart ached with pride and fear in equal measure.

“Then we keep waiting,” Lan said quietly, glancing at them both. “They’re still alive.”

“Yes,” Elyndria murmured, steadying her breath. “We wait.”

She turned back toward the fire, the sun now lowering in the sky, staining the air gold and crimson.

Let them come back, she thought fiercely. Let them find their way out.

They had to.

---

 

The fire crackled low, the scent of smoke curling in the cooling evening air as the shadows grew long across the desert sand. The Wise Ones had drifted back to their own tents, silent and watchful, leaving Aviendha seated with Elyndria, Egwene, and Lan near the flickering firepit. The tension that had wrapped tightly around them all for days now felt heavier, thicker—because now they knew. Rand and Moiraine were still inside. And Rand had chosen to go deeper.

Aviendha sat cross-legged, her hands resting in her lap. Her eyes were on the flames, but her thoughts clearly lay far beyond them.

“He looked… changed,” she said after a time. “Not weaker. Not broken. But older. He has seen things none of us should see. He will not be the same when he returns.”

Elyndria swallowed around the knot in her throat. “Neither will Moiraine.”

Lan didn’t respond, but his gaze remained locked on the dark outline of the fog-wrapped city in the distance. The muscles in his jaw were clenched tight, his fingers twitching at his side like they longed for a sword.

Egwene drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. Her eyes looked hollow in the firelight, exhausted from too many nights without sleep. “I keep thinking about what Aviendha said. That he could have left. That he was right there.”

“But he didn’t,” Elyndria murmured. “Because that’s who he is.”

Egwene let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yes. It is.”

There was a pause, then Aviendha turned her gaze toward Elyndria. “You are bonded to him. I can feel it somewhat, after my time in Rhuidean.”

Elyndria met her eyes evenly. “Yes.”

“You feel him.”

“Not fully. It’s… muted. Distant. Like hearing echoes through water. We quietened it on the merchant ship so people wouldn't discover our bond.” Her voice dropped. “Before he went in I could still feel his emotions across the bond if they’re strong. His worry, his fear and his hurt. Now….nothing”

Aviendha nodded slowly. “It takes strength to love him.”

“It takes more to stay away,” Elyndria replied, staring at the city in the clouds.

Lan’s voice was low but firm. “He’ll come back. I have seen that boy fight against everything, even fate itself. He’ll drag Moiraine out of there with him if he has to.”

Elyndria wanted to believe it. She needed to believe it.

“We wait,” she said again, and her voice was steadier now, stronger. “As long as it takes.”

The others nodded.

Night settled over the Waste, cloaking the land in silence broken only by the sigh of the wind and the low snap of firewood. They took turns watching the mists, waiting for shapes to appear. Waiting for movement. For a miracle.

And in the darkness, as the stars blinked overhead, Elyndria silently repeated the same promise to herself.

Come back to me, Rand al’Thor. You promised.

---

Elyndria’s hands trembled around the threads of Fire and Water she was weaving, her mind barely tethered to the shape of the practice as the sun cast its blistering glare over the camp. Aviendha stood nearby, steady and silent, her own flows clean and confident, though a sheen of sweat gleamed at her temples. The Wise Ones watched, unmoving shadows under the edge of a shade tent, their expressions unreadable. Egwene, beside Elyndria, muttered under her breath as her threads tangled, then dissolved.

And then—it hit.

The bond. Not a whisper. Not an echo. A snap.

Like the door to a sealed chamber had been thrown open and light had rushed in. Elyndria’s eyes widened, her head jerking toward the city wrapped in mist. Her heart thudded once, twice—then began to race.

Rand.

She rose slowly, eyes fixed on the haze that blurred the edge of Rhuidean. Hope surged through her chest, hot and bright. The bond pulsed again—weak, but alive. Real.

And then she saw them.

A tall figure appeared through the shimmer, his clothes faded and dust-streaked, arms wrapped tightly around a slumped form. A woman with dark hair hanging limp across her back. Pale. Barely moving.

“It’s them,” Elyndria gasped, her voice high and broken with disbelief.

She bolted.

“It’s them!” she called again, louder now, legs kicking up sand as she ran, skirts trailing behind her. The others stirred—shouts, footsteps, gasps. But Elyndria didn’t slow, couldn’t slow, her eyes locked on the figures as they staggered forward. She didn’t feel the heat, or the tears burning her cheeks, only the rising surge of relief and fear and joy crashing into her like a wave.

Rand looked up. Their eyes met, and the breath whooshed from her lungs. He looked so different. Worn. Exhausted. Like the wind had carved lines into his face. But he was alive. He was here.

Lan reached them first, his movements swift but gentle as he took Moiraine from Rand’s arms. The Aes Sedai looked nearly weightless in his grip, her face ashen and still, hair tangled with sand. Lan’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes—his eyes were full of anguish as he cradled her carefully, as though she might shatter. Elyndria barely noticed. She reached Rand and threw her arms around him, not hesitating, not thinking, just needing to feel him. He wasn’t holding Moiraine anymore—his arms came around her instantly, fiercely, as though he’d been waiting for her.

She buried her face into his chest, breathing him in—dust, sweat, sun, something older, deeper—and clung to him.

“I knew,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I knew you’d come back.”

“I promised,” Rand murmured, his voice cracked and low, but steady. “Light, Elyndria. You feel like the only real thing in the world.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in trembling hands. His eyes searched hers, and for a moment, neither of them breathed. Then he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, both of them closing their eyes. Around them, Egwene was speaking in hushed tones to Aviendha, and one of the Wise Ones summoned others to tend to Moiraine. But to Elyndria, the world had narrowed to the pounding of her heart, the warmth of Rand’s arms, the weight of their bond fully restored.

He was home.

And no matter what Rhuidean had shown him, what marks it had left—he had come back.

Rand trembled faintly beneath Elyndria’s touch, though his grip on her was sure—like a man anchoring himself to shore after nearly drowning. Sand clung to his face, to his lashes, his clothes clinging to the lean muscle beneath, soaked through with sweat. But it was his eyes that gripped her the most—those storm-tossed gray eyes, wide and raw and full of something that made her throat tighten.

He didn’t speak right away. He only breathed. In and out. Each inhale slower, steadier, as if her touch reminded him of who he was.

Of whom he still wanted to be.

Around them, a gentle commotion stirred as the Wise Ones began issuing soft commands. Lan carried Moiraine away, disappearing into one of the shaded tents without a word. Egwene stood just behind Elyndria, her hands clasped tightly, her face stricken with relief and unspoken questions. Aviendha had moved only a few paces closer, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable—but the flicker of something soft crossed her eyes as she looked at Rand.

Elyndria kept her hands on Rand’s cheeks, brushing her thumbs just beneath his eyes. “What happened in there?” she asked softly, though part of her already guessed from the haunted look he wore. “What did you see?”

Rand shook his head faintly. “I don’t have the words. Not yet. Maybe not ever.” His voice cracked, husky from thirst or wear—or pain, perhaps all of them at once. “Everything I thought I knew... was wrong. Or worse, only half true.”

Elyndria swallowed, her heart twisting, but she nodded. “Whatever it showed you… whatever truths or lies Rhuidean tried to carve into your bones… you’re still you.”

He looked at her sharply at that—startled, almost. Then, like a dam breaking, something flickered in his eyes. Something soft, and desperate, and full of quiet, aching gratitude. “I held onto you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Through all of it. Through every vision, every memory, every whisper of madness—I held onto you. You were the only constant.”

Elyndria closed her eyes, breathing shakily, the bond between them humming, resonating with his emotion—his fear, his exhaustion, but most of all… his need.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered. “Not now. Not ever.”

Behind them, Egwene finally stepped forward, her voice catching as she spoke. “Rand… Light, you look awful.”

Rand gave her a wry smile, tired but sincere. “I feel worse than I look.”

Egwene didn’t hesitate—she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his back. Elyndria shifted to the side to allow the embrace, and Rand let it happen, exhaling shakily against her shoulder. It wasn’t long, but it was enough.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Egwene murmured before stepping away.

“Where’s Moiraine?” Rand asked, suddenly tense again.

“Lan took her into the healing tent,” Aviendha said. “The Wise Ones will do what they can. But she was breathing. Weak, but alive.”

Rand nodded, that same haunted look lingering in his eyes.

The Wise Ones were watching them now, but not with impatience. With something quieter. Understanding, perhaps. Even Bair’s stern expression held the barest touch of softness as she stepped forward.

“You have returned marked,” she said. “Twice-marked. The Car’a’carn.”

Silence fell.

Elyndria reached for his hand again and laced her fingers through his. “Let’s go,” she whispered. “Let them clean you up. Let them help.”

Rand looked at her for a long moment… and then finally, slowly, he nodded. Together, they walked back toward the tents, the desert sun beating down on their backs—but something had changed. Something essential. He was no longer walking toward fate alone.

The desert wind curled gently around them as they walked, warm and dry, pulling at the edges of Elyndria’s scarf and the folds of Rand’s shirt. Each step felt surreal, the dusty path beneath their boots no different than it had been days ago, and yet everything had changed. Elyndria could feel it in Rand—deep in his bones, woven into the threads of the bond that pulsed between them. He felt heavier now. Wiser, in a way that could only be born of pain.

And still… he held her hand like a lifeline.

The Wise Ones parted as they approached the camp. Melaine motioned to one of the tents, already prepared with fresh water, a cot, and healing herbs. “Bring him here. We’ll see to his wounds.”

Elyndria guided Rand inside without a word. He did not protest. Not when the sweat-soaked shirt was tugged from his shoulders. Not when she brought the basin of water to his side and began gently wiping the sand from his face. He simply sat, letting her care for him, his eyes closed, his breathing finally beginning to even out.

“How long was I gone?” he murmured after a time, his voice distant.

“Seven days,” Elyndria answered, wringing out the cloth in the basin. “Aviendha came out on the fifth day of you entering. Moiraine’s return with you… was on the edge of what the Wise Ones expected.”

Rand opened his eyes slowly. “Muradin?”

Elyndria hesitated, then shook her head. “He hasn’t come out.”

Rand's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

After a moment, he reached out, fingers brushing against her wrist. “You waited for me.”

Elyndria smiled softly. “I told you I would.”

His lips curled faintly, the smallest ghost of a smile. “You were right… I did promise.”

A rustling at the entrance of the tent made them both turn. Egwene stepped inside, her expression filled with a cautious sort of relief. “Moiraine is sleeping,” she said. “Lan is with her. Bair said she’ll be fine, but she needs time to… process what she saw.”

Rand swallowed hard, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “She wouldn’t leave. Not until she knew everything.”

Egwene stepped closer and crouched down beside them. “Neither would you. That’s why she followed you in the first place.”

He didn’t respond, only nodded slightly.

Aviendha appeared in the tent flap behind Egwene, her gaze scanning Rand before meeting Elyndria’s. There was something in her look—approval, maybe. Or understanding. “The Wise Ones will call a meeting tonight,” she said. “All the clans must know. The Car’a’carn has returned.”

“I am not their savior,” Rand muttered bitterly.

“No,” Aviendha said simply, “but you are their sign.”

She turned and left without another word.

Rand exhaled deeply and leaned his head into Elyndria’s palm. “I don’t know how to be what they want.”

Elyndria met his eyes, steady and unwavering. “Then be what they need. One step at a time. And when it becomes too much, let me carry some of the weight.”

He was quiet for a long time. Then, in a voice no louder than a breath: “I missed you.”

Elyndria’s heart swelled painfully. “I know. I missed you too.”

Egwene looked between them, a quiet smile touching her lips. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

She slipped out of the tent, leaving Elyndria and Rand in the soft hush of the desert evening light filtering through canvas.

Rand pulled her close then, resting his forehead to hers. “I’m still me,” he whispered. “But something… something is different. Rhuidean… it changed me.”

Elyndria nodded. “I know.”

And still, she stayed by his side. Not because he was the Dragon Reborn. Not because he had to be strong.

But because she loved him—storm, prophecy, and all.

And now, finally, he was back.

 

 

 

The dry winds whispered along the canvas of the tent as dusk settled over Chaendaer, bringing with it a breath of coolness after another blistering day. Inside the quiet of their shared tent, Rand lay resting on a bedroll, his eyes half-lidded but watchful, breath steady as his strength slowly returned. Elyndria sat cross-legged beside him, threading her fingers through her hair, trying to focus on anything but the tension thick in the air.

Outside, voices rose—sharp, heated. They’d been rising steadily for the past hour, echoing from the main campfire where the Taardad and Shaido Wise Ones had gathered. No Wetlanders were summoned. Not even Lan. This was Aiel business. Rand turned his head slightly toward the entrance of the tent, his jaw tightening. Elyndria could feel it through the bond—his unease, his frustration at being kept away, at being rested while they debated his fate. Her fingers brushed his hand gently in reassurance.

A sharp voice cut through the night air, Couladin’s unmistakable snarl thick with disdain.

“He is not of us! He was not born to the Three-Fold Land! Rhuidean spits him out, and you would name him Car’a’carn?”

There was a murmur in response. Then Bair’s voice, firm and unyielding: “He is twice marked. The city does not lie. The Prophecy was clear.”

Rand exhaled, long and slow. “They won’t accept it,” he muttered. “They’ll deny the truth until it slaps them in the face.”

Elyndria said nothing at first. She simply listened, the firelight flickering against the tent walls like uneasy shadows. Then, quietly, “The Wise Ones accept you. So does Rhuarc. That will be enough, in time.”

“Will it?” he asked. “The Shaido are too proud. Couladin—he would rather see the Waste burn than follow me.”

From outside, a woman's voice—Sevanna’s, smooth and cool as a knife’s edge—spoke up. “If he is the Car’a’carn, let him unite the clans. But the Shaido will not kneel to a wetlander. Not today.”

There was no shouting after that. Just silence. Then the low, rhythmic sound of feet leaving, boots on dry sand. The Shaido were walking away.

Elyndria sighed and leaned back, her gaze rising toward the top of the tent. “So it begins,” she said softly.

Rand didn't reply. He only closed his eyes for a moment, and reached blindly for her hand. When she laced her fingers with his, his grip tightened—like a man bracing for a storm.

And outside, the wind picked up again. The night deepened around them, the firelight from outside casting shifting golds and oranges against the walls of the tent. Elyndria stayed seated by Rand’s side, their hands still clasped. The sound of the Shaido’s departure echoed in the stillness—a hollow, final sound. The decision had been made, and a line had been drawn. Rand sat up slowly, his expression unreadable in the half-dark. His eyes flicked toward the flap of the tent, as if he could still see them, disappearing into the desert.

“They’ll challenge me,” he said, voice low, almost flat. “Couladin will. Sevanna too, in her own way.”

Elyndria looked at him, her features soft but steady. “Let them challenge you,” she said quietly. “You’ll win them over. Or you’ll make them regret standing against you.”

A corner of Rand’s mouth lifted—just slightly. “You sound like Moiraine.”

She snorted lightly, shifting closer. “No. I don’t give riddles, I give threats.”

Rand huffed a breath, almost a laugh, before his brow furrowed again. “This is only the beginning. The Shaido were the first to walk away, but others might follow. The clans won’t fall in line easily. And I—” he paused, his grip on her hand tightening slightly, “I don’t even know what the Prophecies truly want of me. Just that I’m meant to unite them, and that it will be through blood.”

Elyndria didn’t flinch. She had known that already—had felt the weight of it pressing against them both since Falme. Since the first whispers of who Rand was began to bloom into something undeniable.

“You're not alone,” she said simply. “Whatever comes next, whatever the others choose... I’ve chosen. I walk beside you.”

Rand turned to look at her fully then, and in the low light, his eyes searched hers—raw and honest, laced with the fear he rarely showed and the gratitude he never spoke aloud.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Outside, the Wise Ones returned—soft footfalls and rustling cloth. Murmurs passed between them, orders given to the Taardad to maintain vigilance. Despite the rejection of the Shaido, no panic followed.

A moment later, there was a gentle knock against the tent post. “May I enter?” came Egwene’s voice.

Rand shifted to sit upright, letting go of Elyndria’s hand. “Yes.”

Egwene ducked through the flap, her face pale and serious, with the strain of the last seven days still clinging to her eyes. She looked between the two of them and said, “They’re gone. Sevanna, Couladin—all of them. But the Wise Ones want to speak with you, Rand. Not now—tomorrow. You need to rest. But they want you to begin preparing.”

Rand nodded grimly. “To become the Car’a’carn.”

Egwene stepped closer, looking at him with something like awe—and worry. “You already are. It’s only a matter of who is willing to accept it.”

She left a short while later, letting the tent flap fall behind her.

Rand lay back again, staring up at the canvas above them. Elyndria shifted to lie beside him, curling against his side. For a long time, they were silent, listening to the desert wind and the faint crackle of dying fire outside. And when sleep finally came for them, it came softly—for now.

---

 

Elyndria stirred just as the first light of dawn crept along the edge of the canvas. A pale glow filtered through the fabric of their tent, casting everything in a gentle, golden hue. For the first time in what felt like weeks, her body didn’t ache from broken sleep. No tremors haunted her limbs, no shadows lingered in her mind. The nightmares had not come.

She drew a deep, steady breath, letting it fill her lungs. Peace. Fragile and rare. She let it settle over her like the warmth of the blankets around her.

Turning slightly, her gaze found Rand lying beside her, still fast asleep. His face was softer like this, his brow smooth without the weight of the world pressing into it. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

He was here. He had come back.

The ache of her worry over the past days, the fear that had knotted itself into her bones, eased just a little more. Elyndria reached out, gentle as the breeze, and brushed her fingers across his brow. Down the bridge of his nose. Over the curve of his lips.

Again, and again, she traced the same path—slow, rhythmic. Her breath fell in time with the motion, and a hum escaped her chest, soft and steady.

 

“Come home, wanderer, come home,

To where the fires burn and voices know your name.

Come home, heart of mine, come home,

The road was long, but love remained.”

 

The words were barely louder than breath, but they filled the space with something tender. She was about to start the next verse when she felt it—eyes on her. Heavy and golden, like sunlight through stormclouds. Her hand stilled mid-path, hovering just beside Rand’s cheek. She looked down, and his eyes were open, watching her. Quiet. Intense. Awake.

Her breath caught, the song fading on her lips. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her, as though she were some vision he’d dreamt and feared would vanish. A slow smile curved across Rand’s face, small and warm.

“…You sing,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep. “That was beautiful. What song were you singing? I haven’t heard it before.””

Elyndria hesitated, glancing down where their hands remained intertwined. Her brows furrowed slightly as she gave a small, almost sheepish shrug. “I don’t remember,” she admitted. “Just… a lullaby I know.” Her voice was quiet, almost distant, like the memory of the song itself. “Perhaps the servants used to sing it to me when I was little. I can’t say for certain.”

He looked at her for a moment longer, as if the sound of her voice had rooted him in place. Then he shifted, sitting up more fully, his fingers still brushing hers. Elyndria studied him quietly—the fatigue still clinging to the edges of his features, the bruises of exhaustion and memory. And yet, there was a light in his eyes now, something raw and honest. She wanted to hold on to that.

“What happened?” she asked softly. “In Rhuidean.”

Rand was silent for a long moment. His thumb moved absently across the back of her hand, grounding them both. The morning light slipped through the tent flaps behind him, catching on the edges of his hair and bathing him in gold. He looked like something pulled straight from the stories—half flame, half sunrise. And yet, more human than she’d ever seen him. “It was like walking through the bones of time,” he said finally, voice low and steady. “The glass columns… they pulled me in. Each step forward, I lived another life. But not mine.”

Elyndria didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She felt his emotion flickering through the bond—controlled now, but heavy. Weighted.

“The lives of the Aiel,” he continued, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. “Their past. Their truths. Each step… each moment… I became someone else. Saw through their eyes. Felt their pain, their choices.” Elyndria’s throat tightened. She could feel how it had changed him—shaped him. There was a gravity in him now that hadn’t been there before. “They were peaceful once,” Rand said, his voice faraway. “Gentle. Called themselves the Da’shain Aiel. Servants to the Aes Sedai. They never fought. Never killed. But then the Breaking came…” His voice faltered. “And everything fell apart. They lost who they were. Some held onto the old ways, others didn’t. That’s how the Aiel became what they are now.”

His eyes met hers at last, shadowed and searching.

“In one of the visions,” he whispered, “I saw him. My father.”

Elyndria’s breath caught.

“Your real father?” she asked gently.

Rand nodded slowly. “An Aiel. His name was Janduin. He was a clan chief—Taardad.” A mirthless smile touched his lips. “Like Rhuarc. I saw him fighting in the Aiel War… and then—” His voice cracked, and he looked away for a heartbeat before forcing the words out. “He found her. My mother. She’d gone into battle, and she died giving birth to me. There was so much blood.”

Elyndria reached for his hand again, squeezing it tightly. She could feel the memory tearing at him like raw wind against skin.

“Janduin… he didn’t even say her name,” Rand murmured. “He just called her ‘shade of my heart.’”

A silence fell between them. Not awkward. Not empty. It was the kind of silence that held space for grief.

“You didn’t see anything more about her?” Elyndria asked softly.

He shook his head. “No. Just that she wasn’t Aiel. She was alone when they found her.”

Elyndria leaned forward slowly until their foreheads met, her fingers weaving into his. She closed her eyes and let her voice wrap around him like a promise.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That you had to see that.”

His breath hitched. “I needed to,” he said eventually. “But Light, Elyndria… I don’t know who I am anymore. Not really.”

She pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes, her gaze firm, steady. “You are Rand al’Thor,” she said. “Whatever blood runs in your veins, whatever ghosts you carry—you are still you.”

Something broke in his face then. The tension melted like ice under sun, and he folded into her arms, holding her as though she were the only solid thing in the world.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her shoulder, voice thick with emotion.

Elyndria held him tighter, eyes closing as the warmth of his body anchored her. They sat in the quiet, each breath shared between them, filling the space with a sense of comfort that felt almost foreign after the storm they had weathered. Elyndria closed her eyes again, allowing herself to lean into the steady rhythm of Rand's heartbeat, a lullaby of sorts after days of tension, of uncertainty.

After a long while, Rand stirred, shifting his weight so his head rested back against the tent pole, his arms still loosely around her. His gaze softened as he looked down at her, the weariness still present but tempered with something else—something like peace. “I hesitated for a moment about going back for Moiraine,” he said softly, his voice rough from the strain of everything he’d endured. “I knew I should leave. That it was dangerous to stay. But... I couldn’t. Not after everything. Not with her so lost inside those visions. I thought... if I left her there, she wouldn’t come back. Not really.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the back of his hand. “You made the right choice.”

“Even if it nearly killed us both?” Rand’s voice dropped, heavy with the weight of his admission.

She smiled faintly, her lips curving despite the lingering tension. “Especially because it didn’t.”

Rand’s lips tugged upward into a small, rueful smile. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, a familiar touch that sent warmth through her veins. “You sound like one of the Wise Ones.”

Elyndria rolled her eyes at the playful teasing, but her smile didn’t fade. “They’ve rubbed off on me,” she said, her voice light but with a layer of something more. It was true; their influence had seeped into her in ways she hadn’t expected, the wisdom, the calm strength in their words… they had become a part of her, too, whether she had realized it or not.

Rand watched her for a moment, his gaze thoughtful before he hesitated, his fingers lightly grazing the skin under her eyes.

“The bond,” he said, his voice quiet. “I couldn’t feel you. Not the way I usually do. Not when I first stepped into Rhuidean. It was like the bond itself was… broken. Or distant. And I couldn’t reach for you. It made me panic at first. I thought I’d lost you.” He paused, searching her face for something. “Did you feel it too?”

Elyndria’s breath caught in her chest. She nodded; her voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. “I felt it. It felt… wrong. To not be connected. I didn’t realize how much it meant until it was gone.”

Rand’s gaze softened, the heaviness of his words settling in the air between them. They both had felt it. Both had struggled in the silence that followed, the absence of the bond that had once been so constant. She took a deep breath, her fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. “When I felt you again… when the bond snapped back into place, I—” She broke off, unsure how to explain the feeling of wholeness returning, the relief that flooded through her veins as if her soul had been waiting for him. “It felt like coming home,” she whispered. “Like everything was right again.”

Rand didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his fingers traced lightly under her eyes, as if feeling the remnants of the nights she had spent in turmoil. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, but there was an unspoken question in the way he looked at her.

“The nightmares?” he asked, his voice quiet, unsure.

Elyndria’s lips tightened at the question, the memories still fresh in her mind, but she didn’t shy away from him. Not now. Not anymore. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Worse than before. Every night that you were gone, I had them. Every night, they came. But last night...” She swallowed, her gaze dropping to his chest, where her hand rested over his heart. “Last night, I didn’t.”

Rand exhaled sharply, as if the weight of her words pressed against him. He shifted slightly, drawing her closer, his hands gently cupping her face as he spoke with an intensity that made her heart ache. “I wish I could take them away. All of them. I hate that you had to carry that while I was gone. I never wanted you to feel like that. Not while I'm here. Not ever.”

Elyndria felt something in her chest tighten at his words—something tender, something fierce. She reached up, placing her hand over his, her touch soft but certain. “I know you would. But sometimes... there are things I have to carry on my own. Things that... don’t have easy answers. But knowing you’re here,” she met his eyes then, steady, “that helps. More than you’ll ever know.”

Rand’s expression softened further, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes before he leaned in, his forehead gently resting against hers. He breathed deeply, as if taking comfort in her presence, in the simplicity of just being with her.

There was a rustle outside the tent—voices murmuring low, urgent. The Wise Ones were gathering again. Elyndria recognized Bair’s voice, clipped and clear, followed by Melaine’s speaking in tones of steel. She glanced toward the flap, but made no move to rise.

“Let them wait,” Rand said quietly, following her gaze. “Just a little longer.”

She nodded and leaned into him once more, resting her head against his chest. “Just a little longer.”

Rand’s hand slid gently over her back, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of her clothes. It was a quiet intimacy, a silent understanding passing between them that needed no words. She didn’t want to break the moment; she wanted to stay here with him, let the world rush by while they stayed cocooned in their small, safe space. He lifted his hand to her face, his fingertips brushing softly over her cheek. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity. Rand's thumb traced the curve of her lips, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her mouth.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was nothing like their previous encounters—there was no urgency, no desperation. It was soft, almost reverent, as if they were savoring the quiet peace they had found in each other’s presence. Elyndria’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of his body pressing closer to hers, but she didn’t pull him in. She let it remain slow, the kiss deepening only as it needed to, as their bodies moved in a rhythm of their own. She could feel the world outside pressing against the edges of the moment, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, it didn’t matter.

Rand’s lips moved against hers with a quiet gentleness, his hands gliding over her body with care, as if he was learning her all over again. Elyndria let herself melt into the kiss, her hands resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady against her fingertips.

They broke apart for a breath, just long enough to look into each other’s eyes. There was no rush now. No need to speak. Rand leaned forward pulling his shirt off as Elyndria continued to map his body with her hands, their lips returning to each other’s softly as they laid back down on the bed roll. Their bodes intertwined as their bodies got lost in each other’s; clothes pulled slowly of their bodies as they continued to touch; hands grazing against each other skin with slow reverence. Elyndria gasped, her back arching as Rand’s lips trailed downwards, past her chest, down her stomach until his head disappeared underneath the covers leaving her to clench the sheets with tight fingers.

She shuddered, her lips parting weakly as she breath out shakily –

“Light.”

Notes:

I know that some readers wanted her to go into Rhuidean but I couldn’t quite fit into how I imagined Elyndria’s story was going. Though she didn’t go into Rhuidean she will start to begin learning more about herself in further chapters in a different way.

Chapter 30: Cold Rocks Hold

The sun was already high when Elyndria and Rand stepped out of their tent, the dry wind catching the edges of the canvas behind them. The air tasted of heat and dust, and the bustle of movement greeted them almost at once—warriors hauling packs, tents being rolled and tied, columns forming in a loose but purposeful pattern. The Taardad were preparing to move.

Rand’s brow furrowed slightly, his hand brushing Elyndria’s as they walked side by side toward the center of camp. “Something’s happening,” he murmured.

Before Elyndria could respond, a familiar tall figure approached—Rhuarc, his cadin’sor marked with dust and sun, but his bearing as steady as always. “You’re awake,” the Aiel said, nodding to them both. “Good. The Wise Ones have decided it is time to return to Cold Rocks Hold.”

Elyndria blinked. “Cold Rocks Hold?”

Rhuarc turned slightly, pointing toward the distant sun-blasted peaks. “It is the hold of the Taardad. The seat of our clan. It lies further west, beneath the shadow of the Spine of the World. It is home of the Nine Valleys Sept.”

Rand’s eyes narrowed faintly. “Why now?”

“The Shaido have made their decision,” Rhuarc said, his tone grim. “They will not accept you as Car’a’carn. They left during the night. You have no part in their vision of prophecy.”

Elyndria exchanged a glance with Rand, tension rippling beneath her skin.

“So we’re just… going back?” she asked.

Rhuarc shook his head. “Cold Rocks Hold is only a stop. We will remain there until the other clan chiefs gather at Alcair Dal. That is where the true test will come.”

Elyndria frowned. “What is Alcair Dal?”

“The Golden Bowl,” Rhuarc said simply. “A sacred meeting place for all clans. It is where the clan chiefs meet to make decisions that affect all the Aiel. There, they will decide if you are the one spoken of in the Prophecy of Rhuidean.”

Rand’s jaw tightened slightly. Elyndria felt it through the bond—a flicker of weight settling back on his shoulders. Rand sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. “I suppose we better get ready, then.”

Rhuarc nodded once. “We leave at midday.”

There was a quiet weight in his voice that settled over them like dust. Without another word, he turned and strode away to give orders to the others—his presence quickly swallowed by the rhythm of the preparing Aiel. They walked in silence for a moment, weaving through the bustle of the warriors—some breaking down their tents, others rolling blankets or packing water skins with swift, fluid movements. The scent of sand and sweat mingled in the air, and the sun was already beginning to climb, hot and sharp.

Moiraine moved just ahead of them, her posture taut with fatigue. Her blue dress clung to her ankles with each step, dust trailing her hem. Elyndria watched her quietly, noting the slow, almost pained way she walked. It was clear her journey through Rhuidean had taken its toll, though she said nothing. Lan walked beside her, as ever. A silent sentinel. His gaze was sharp as glass, scanning every movement around them, but his attention flickered often to Moiraine. The way his hand hovered near her elbow, just close enough to catch her if she faltered, did not go unnoticed.

Moiraine turned her head slightly as they approached, her voice barely above a whisper. “We should gather what supplies we can. The path ahead will not grow easier. And the Waste is… vast.” Her tone was carefully measured, though her eyes seemed to weigh something deeper as she looked at Rand. Then Elyndria. There was a shift in her gaze. Subtle. A flicker of something unspoken in her expression before it vanished—too quick for Elyndria to place. Wariness? Resignation? Worry?

“We must not linger,” Moiraine said, a final note in her voice. “Especially now.”

She turned and continued on, every step a visible effort. Lan followed silently, his presence enveloping her like a cloak.

Egwene came up behind them with a tired huff, her hands pushing back her unbound hair. “More walking,” she said dully. “I feel like all I’ve done is walk and sweat since we entered this place.”

Rand gave a faint laugh, wiping his brow. “Perhaps soon we’ll be able to rest when we get to Cold Rocks Hold.” Egwene raised a doubtful eyebrow causing him to laugh again with a shake of his head. “I suppose I’m hoping just a bit too much. Come on then let’s get our things and be ready to make the journey.”

“I’ll be a moment,” Elyndria said softly, touching Rand’s arm.

He met her eyes briefly, a quiet flicker of emotion passing between them, then nodded and turned back toward their tent.

The air was already warming, the scent of sunbaked canvas and dry earth rising around them as the Aiel moved like wind over stone—fluid and efficient, breaking down the camp in practiced rhythm.

Elyndria stepped up beside Egwene, who stood silently, arms crossed loosely as she watched the swirl of movement. Her shoulders drooped beneath the morning’s weight, and there was a faint sheen of tiredness beneath her eyes.

“Were you okay last night?” Elyndria asked gently, voice barely above the murmur of the wind. “Your dreams?”

Egwene nodded slowly, her expression distant. “Yes. It’s strange… no nightmares. No dreams at all, really.” She tilted her head, thoughtful. “Just… blankness. Like I’d stepped out of time.”

Elyndria gave a soft smile and reached out, her hand wrapping lightly around Egwene’s forearm. “Me too,” she said. “Perhaps the stress got to us—with Rand and Moiraine both in Rhuidean…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze flicking toward the heart of the city behind them. “Hopefully our dreams… the memories… won’t become so chaotic again.”

Egwene hummed quietly, the sound barely audible, and her brows drew together in a small frown. Whatever thoughts passed through her mind; she didn’t voice them. She glanced over at Elyndria and gave a small, halfhearted smile.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Hopefully.”

A moment passed before Egwene sighed and straightened her shoulders. “I should go back to my tent. Start packing before Aviendha does it for me.”

Elyndria chuckled softly, warmth rising in her chest. “I do see her doing that.”

Egwene gave a tired nod and turned away, her figure moving with slow purpose across the pale sand. Elyndria stood for a moment longer, letting the wind tease at her hair, letting her thoughts settle before making her way back to the her and Rand’s tent to help him prepare for their journey ahead. As the midday sun climbed higher in the sky, the Aiel began their departure, moving swiftly and with purpose. The once-bustling camp had already begun to shrink, the canvas tents and scattered belongings being packed up with practiced ease.

She walked alongside Rand, the heat of the sun pressing down on them, her fingers brushing his lightly as they moved through the crowd. Rhuarc had given the order to leave, and it wasn’t long before the last of the tents were packed and they were ready to depart. Rand kept his pace steady, though there was an unmistakable tightness to his posture. Elyndria could feel it in the bond—a sense of unease, a deep pull in the pit of his stomach that hadn’t left since the visions in Rhuidean.

“Are you nervous?” Elyndria asked gaining his attention. “About going to Cold Rocks Hold.”

Rand glanced sideways at her, his expression almost unreadable, though Elyndria could feel the flicker of emotion pulse faintly through the bond. Doubt. Apprehension. Something close to dread.

“A little,” he said finally, his voice low. “I don’t know what I’ll find there. Or if they’ll even accept me.”

“They will,” Elyndria said, her tone firmer than she expected. “You bear the marks. You survived Rhuidean. That’s not something they can ignore.”

Rand’s jaw tightened, and he looked ahead toward the horizon, where the dry wind danced over the dunes and shimmered heat against the far rocks. “Surviving doesn’t mean understanding. I still don’t know what all of it means. Those memories… those lives… I don’t know if they’re apart of me now.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Like Lews Therin is a part of me.”

Elyndria reached for his hand again, curling her fingers around his. “You’re still you, Rand. Whatever you saw—whatever those memories showed you—they don’t change that.”

He looked at her then, his gaze piercing, haunted. “What if they should? What if I’m meant to be something else now?”

“You are,” she said softly. “You’re meant to be the Car’a’carn. That doesn’t mean you stop being Rand al’Thor.” A silence fell between them, filled only by the shifting sound of sand underfoot and the low thud of pack animals moving through the line. The Aiel stretched ahead and behind, winding through the dry land like a stream. Elyndria spoke again breaking the silence, “Now that you bear the Car'a'carn mark do you think perhaps...perhaps you may want to try channeling again?

Rand's steps faltered, just for a heartbeat, but Elyndria felt it as clearly as if he had stumbled. Through the bond, the rush of emotions hit her—uncertainty, a sharp edge of fear—but beneath it all, a deep, pulsing thread of longing. It was like the feeling of thirst after days beneath the sun, a thirst that never quite left.

He didn’t answer at first, just looked down at the sand shifting beneath his boots. Then, with a rough swallow, he murmured, “I shouldn’t.”

His eyes flicked back, just briefly, toward where Moiraine and Lan moved silently with the rear of the group. Moiraine looked pale, her step slower than usual, but still steady. Lan was ever at her side, his presence as solid and unwavering as stone. Rand sighed and faced forward again. “The way I felt when I used saidin that night…” His voice dropped, low and tense. “It wasn’t just power, Elyndria. It was fire. It was like holding a storm in my hands and trying to shape it with a whisper. It felt… good. Too good. Like I could do anything. Burn everything.”

Elyndria’s fingers brushed over his knuckles. “That night was chaos, Rand. Everything was out of balance. The danger, the confusion, the fear—you were reacting to all of it. Maybe saidin was, too.” He didn’t reply, but his jaw worked, tight with inner strain. “You said it felt like fire,” she continued softly. “But you didn’t lose control. Not really. You’re still here. So am I. You used the Power when you had no choice.”

“I don’t know how to want to touch it,” he said suddenly, his voice ragged. “Because part of me already does. And I’m afraid if I start again… I won’t stop. That I’ll become like—like him.”

“Lews Therin?” Elyndria asked gently. Rand nodded causing Elyndria’s grip on his hand to tighten. “You’re not him, Rand. Not truly. Your soul has lived many lives – “

“But that is the one people remember,” he cut in sharply, not with anger, but with quiet anguish. “That’s the life that shaped the world, Elyndria. That broke the world. That left nothing but fire and grief in its wake. That’s the one they whisper about in fear.”

A long silence followed, heavy as stone. The bond pulsed with sorrow and dread so thick Elyndria couldn’t tell whether it was his or hers filling her chest.

She swallowed and said softly, “Perhaps I can help train you again. Like before, in the Foregate—”

“No.”

The word came quiet, but firm. Final.

“Rand…” she breathed, pain in her voice, but he was already shaking his head, the motion sharp and resolute.

“No,” he repeated, turning to face her more fully now, the wind tugging at his shirt. “I don’t want you near me if I have to learn how to channel again. Not now. Not like this.” His voice dropped to something rawer. “Everything’s changing. This isn’t like before. Back in the Foregate, things were—safe. Or they felt that way. Simple. I only channeled in small ways. Never enough to—” he cut off, eyes darkening, “—never enough for me to become addicted to the feeling.”

Elyndria’s breath caught. The word echoed through her—addicted. The honesty of it, the fear.

“If I have to learn now,” he went on, “I’ll need to use more of it. Really use it. And that creates more risk. For me. For you. And I won’t—I won’t—risk you. Not for this.”

Her chest tightened unbearably, something caught behind her ribs. Through the bond, she felt his turmoil cresting like a storm, mingling with her own.

“I want to help you,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Please… just let me do what I can to keep you safe.”

Rand’s eyes closed for a moment. When they opened again, they were shining with pain. “Please,” he echoed, voice rough and full of quiet desperation. “Just… let me do this to keep you safe.”

Elyndria’s lips trembled, her eyes stinging. She wanted to argue. She wanted to shake him. But she couldn’t—not when she felt the absolute depth of his conviction pressing through the bond. So, she nodded, shakily, the motion small and reluctant.

“Alright,” she whispered.

---

The midday sun blazed high overhead as the Aiel caravan pressed forward, winding like a serpent across the dry bones of the land. The silence between Elyndria and Rand lingered even as the bond between them hummed with emotion too deep to voice. She let him walk ahead, needing space to breathe, to settle the ache that had lodged behind her sternum. Egwene fell into step beside her, quiet at first. Her short dark hair was pulled behind her ears, her cheeks darkened from sun and heat, but her eyes—those sharp, knowing eyes—swept sideways toward Elyndria with quiet understanding.

“You’re upset,” Egwene said simply, not asking.

Elyndria let out a breath. “It shows?”

Egwene gave a small smile. “Only because I know you.” She paused, then added more softly, “And because I felt the shift. The two of you were quiet for a long time. And then… not quiet.”

Elyndria didn’t answer right away. The weight of Rand’s words still sat heavy in her chest, like a stone pressed against her ribs. She looked out over the sand, where the shimmering heat blurred the horizon.

“He doesn’t want me near him when he channels,” she said finally. “He’s afraid of hurting me.”

Egwene was quiet for a few steps, then sighed. “That sounds like Rand.”

“I understand why,” Elyndria said quickly. “But it doesn’t make it easier.” Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. “He’s afraid of the power, of becoming something he can’t control. But he also… needs to learn. And I hate the thought of him doing that alone.”

“I know,” Egwene said gently. “And maybe he won’t have to. Maybe he just needs time. He’s just come out of Rhuidean, Elyndria. His world turned upside down. Again.” She hesitated, then gave a dry little laugh. “And Light, it’s not like we’ve had any rest either.”

Elyndria gave her a sidelong look, and the two shared a brief smile—worn but genuine.

“How are you?” Elyndria asked after a moment. “Really?”

Egwene arched a brow. “You mean besides exhausted, sunburned, and already dreading climbing another blasted rock face before nightfall?”

“That’s the one.”

Egwene laughed under her breath. “I’m… holding on. I didn’t dream last night, which I think is good? The emptiness is strange, but better than nightmares.” Her voice dipped a little, uncertain. “But it’s like something’s shifting under the surface. I can’t explain it.”

“Let’s just hope there’s no more dreams.” Elyndria sighed hopefully. “It’ll be nice to get a few peaceful nights without waking up weeping; with Lan waiting with tea for one of us.”

“He was…good though. To us during those nights.” Egwene acknowledged softly

Elyndria nodded but didn’t say anymore. She had definitely found a new appreciation for Lan after those nights. He had always been strong, silent and protective of their group but now she knew how far his loyalty went to those he was protecting. Now she knew that he cared about her and Egwene, that they more then just Rand’s companions to him.

The sun had begun to dip low in the sky by the time the Aiel made camp, the sky awash in hues of gold and amber, casting long shadows across the rocky outcroppings of the Waste. The heat had finally begun to ease, giving way to a dry, cooling wind that tugged at veils and cloaks. The air was quiet now—tired, like the people moving within it.

The warriors set their spears in the ground, forming a loose perimeter as small cook fires began to flicker to life. The rhythm of travel had dulled some of the tension, but not erased it. The closer they drew to Cold Rocks Hold, the more Elyndria could feel the tension pulling taut in Rand. He hadn’t spoken much since their earlier conversation. His eyes were fixed forward, ever scanning the horizon as if searching for something—or trying not to be swallowed by the weight within.

Elyndria sat with Egwene just beyond the nearest fire, the two of them crouched in the sand, watching the shifting shadows of warriors move through camp like flickering embers. Lan stood not far off, ever alert, his silhouette outlined in the faint light. Moiraine sat on a blanket beside one of the smaller tents, her posture straight despite the weariness etched in every line of her body. Her face was pale, drawn, but she hid it well—save for the occasional glance toward the fire, unblinking and deep in thought. Lan had not left her side since Rhuidean. He lingered close now, ever the silent sentinel.

“She doesn’t look like she’s slept since Rhuidean,” Egwene murmured.

Elyndria followed her gaze and nodded slowly. “She hasn't. I think that…. something about that place took more out of her then she expected.”

“Do you think she found what she was looking for?” Egwene asked, voice hushed. “Answers?”

Elyndria hesitated, then glanced toward Rand. He stood a short distance from the fire, arms crossed, head bowed slightly as he watched the flames dance. “Maybe,” she said. “But if she did, I’m not sure it brought her peace.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than the dusk. The fire cracked quietly, sending a spray of golden sparks upward, tiny stars lost in the fading light.

After a long moment, Egwene exhaled and pushed to her feet. “I should rest. Aviendha will be on me again if I don’t at least try to sleep before we move again.”

Elyndria smiled faintly. “Light help you.”

Egwene rolled her eyes but grinned, then padded off into the shadows. Elyndria sat alone for a few more moments, letting the hush of evening settle into her bones. The scent of fire-smoke and windblown dust filled her lungs. Around her, the Aiel were quiet—always watching, always listening. But never at ease.

When she finally stood, she made her way toward Rand. He didn’t move as she approached, only shifted slightly to make room for her beside him.

“They say Cold Rocks Hold is not far now,” Elyndria said softly.

Rand nodded, eyes still on the fire. “I know.”

A pause passed between them.

“Are you afraid?” she asked.

Rand’s jaw tensed. “Of what they’ll see when they look at me? Of what I’ll become? Yes.”

Elyndria reached out and took his hand in hers. “They’ll see you,” she whispered. “Just like I do.”

Rand turned to look at her then, and in his eyes she saw it again—that storm always building behind the blue. But also the flicker of something quieter. Steadier.

The fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows across Rand’s face. Elyndria watched the light dance in his eyes, reflecting the weight he carried, the layers he barely spoke of. The silence had settled comfortably—until she broke it.

“Has Lanfear been visiting your dreams lately?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above the whisper of the wind.

Rand’s jaw worked slowly, the muscle there tensing, then loosening. He didn’t answer right away. He stared into the fire, as though it might hold a different truth than the one he was about to say. “Yes,” he said finally. “She still visits. But not in Rhuidean. I didn’t sleep in there.”

Elyndria nodded faintly, unsurprised. “And last night?”

He exhaled through his nose. “She was there.”

She sighed, the sound soft and weary, turning her eyes toward the fire. “Light, I wish there was a way to stop her. Dreams should be safe. Restful. Not another place she gets to haunt you.”

“She’s… different now,” Rand murmured. “She doesn’t talk about Lews Therin anymore. Not really.”

That drew Elyndria’s gaze back to him. “Then what does she talk about?”

Rand shrugged slightly. “Herself. Her life before she… pledged herself to the Shadow. Before she was Lanfear.”

Elyndria blinked, then shook her head slowly. “I suppose that’s just riveting,” she said dryly, letting sarcasm flicker through the words like sparks from the fire.

Rand only hummed in response, the sound low, noncommittal. But the way his eyes stayed on the flames betrayed how much those dream-visits still lingered with him. Before she could press further, a familiar figure dropped down beside them with a huff.

Aviendha.

She didn’t look particularly pleased. “I’ve been told,” she said bluntly, glaring into the fire like it had personally offended her, “that it is now my duty to teach you the ways of the Aiel.”

Rand blinked, caught somewhere between confusion and dread. “You don’t have to—”

“I must,” Aviendha interrupted with an even deeper sigh, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Not because I want to. Bair and Melaine have instructed it. Every day, until you sleep. Every night, until your bones understand what it means to walk as an Aiel.”

Rand glanced sideways at Elyndria like a man seeking rescue.

Elyndria cleared her throat with an exaggerated swiftness and stood. “Well, I suppose that’s my cue to go to bed.”

Rand’s eyes narrowed. “You’re deserting me.”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” Elyndria whispered with a teasing smile. She bent to kiss his forehead gently. “Good night, Aviendha. Try not to break him.”

Aviendha only sniffed.

Rand caught Elyndria’s hand before she could leave, squeezing it tightly. She squeezed back, holding his gaze for a breath longer than she meant to. Then she turned and made her way toward their tent, leaving Rand to the mercy of a very determined—and very begrudging—Aviendha.

---

The tent was quiet—only the hush of wind whispering through the canvas, the soft shifting of sand outside. Elyndria lay curled beneath a light blanket, the warmth of the Waste lingering even as night fell. She stared at the faint outline of the fabric ceiling above, waiting for sleep to come.

But as the minutes passed, her mind wandered, and her hands, too, began to move of their own accord. Her fingers twitched, reaching for something to focus on. The air around her seemed to hum with the faintest pulse of energy as her hands began to weave, drawing out invisible threads from the quiet of the night. Soft and slow, delicate movements, as if she were creating something small and fragile.

The images came to her unbidden. Memories. The past unfurled itself before her like a tapestry—vivid but fleeting.

She saw herself as a child, sitting still while a servant braided her hair with careful hands. The motion of the weaving was gentle, rhythmic, as if it was just another part of the world turning. Then, the image shifted—Saerel’s face, a smile playing on her lips, kind and reassuring. It was a memory of comfort, a reminder of simpler days, days before everything had become so complex. Elyndria breathed in deeply, the warmth of that memory filling her chest.

Her hands, still weaving in the air, moved with a soft fluidity, the motions of memory flowing with her. The scene shifted again, this time to a bright, sunlit market in Foregate. Elyndria remembered the bustle of the crowd, the vibrant colors of fabric hanging from stalls. She and Rand were there, silently laughing and spinning in a carefree dance, their feet light on the cobblestones, the world around them full of warmth and possibility. His grin was infectious, his hand warm in hers. She could almost hear the sound of his laughter, the joy in his eyes as they danced together, free of the weight of the world.

The images flickered again, faster now. Mat and Perrin sitting together at a table, joking around as they played a card game with Elayne, Loial and Nynaeve. The group, together in that moment, felt like home. So real, so alive. Her fingers slowed, growing heavier with sleep, the weaves coming softer, gentler as her eyelids fluttered. The memories blurred and faded, merging into the quiet dance of her hands.

And then, as the images grew fainter and more dreamlike, there came a new one. A man, sitting by a fire with a musical instrument in his hands, the strings shimmering with the light of the flames. His face was blurred, as if the memory was slipping away too fast, too far. Her fingers faltered as sleep took her, the last image fading to nothing as her breath evened out, and her mind surrendered to the quiet of the night.

But with it came the dream.

The dream bloomed gently at first, wrapped in golden light and ringing with laughter.

Elyndria ran barefoot over soft grass, her skirts gathered in one hand, the other reaching out to catch the laughing child just ahead of her. Two more darted between low trees, giggling, their feet pounding the earth with joyful abandon. The sun shone warm and bright above them, casting long shadows, and the scent of summer flowers lingered in the air.

“Got you!” she cried, scooping up the boy with a triumphant laugh as he shrieked in delight.

The youngest girl ran toward her, arms outstretched—only to be gently caught by a man who stepped into view, laughing as he lifted her into the air.

Lews Therin Telamon.

He spun the little girl with ease, her giggles soaring into the sky. His smile was unguarded, warm, his brown eyes catching the sun. The children swarmed around him, and Elyndria watched, her heart full. She felt it all—the joy, the peace, the aching wholeness. A perfect moment. She didn’t question it.

It just was.

And then it wasn’t.

The laughter vanished, snatched away like a breath stolen from the lungs. The sun blinked out, and cold spilled across the world like ink on a scroll. Elyndria blinked.

She was no longer standing. She was kneeling now, in the same field—but the grass was blackened, brittle beneath her knees. And the little girl lay motionless in her arms, eyes closed, her body limp and cool. Gone. Elyndria didn’t look up. She didn’t need to.

She knew he was there.

She could feel him—Lews Therin—standing just behind her. Silent. Watching. Like he always was in these dreams when they turned dark. When the joy was stripped away, leaving only ruin. The soft sound of his boots crunching over dead grass started behind her.

One step.

Another.

She clutched the child tighter, a sound building in her throat.

The footsteps came closer –

Elyndria woke with a sharp inhale, the breath seizing in her chest. She stared up at the dim canopy of their tent, her heart hammering, skin damp with sweat. Beside her, Rand slept deeply, his face turned toward her, peaceful in the faint moonlight filtering through the tent flap. She sat up slowly, careful not to wake him, and reached for her cloak. Her hands trembled as she tied it around her shoulders.

The air outside was still and cool. The fire had burned low, coals glowing faintly. Lan sat beside it, cradling a small teapot in his hands. His eyes met hers as she stepped out, but he said nothing. As if he had expected her.

Elyndria moved to sit beside him, legs folded beneath her. Lan poured her a cup without asking, passing it to her with steady hands. She cradled it, breathing in the earthy scent, and blew on the surface to cool it.

“You must be sick of this now,” she croaked, her voice raw. “Making tea for Egwene and me every night.”

Lan’s eyes flickered toward the flames. “No. If these teas help you, then I will continue to make them. Every night.” A quiet moment passed before he added, “Especially now that Moiraine too is having nightmares. Of her time in Rhuidean. Though she will not speak of them.”

Elyndria hummed low in her throat, lifting the cup and taking a small sip. The warmth seeped into her chest, dulling the edges of the fear.

“No,” she murmured. “No, I suppose she wouldn’t.”

The fire cracked softly, casting long shadows that danced across the desert floor. The warmth of the tea settled into Elyndria’s chest, loosening the tight knot that had formed in her ribs since waking. She didn’t speak, just listened to the fire and sipped slowly, grateful for the silence.

Lan’s voice broke it, quiet but steady. “The same dreams?”

Elyndria’s fingers tightened around the clay cup. She gave a slow nod, her gaze still fixed on the fire. “They’re always the same,” she whispered. “They start out different sometimes—peaceful, warm—but they always end the same.”

Lan exhaled through his nose, a long, quiet breath that seemed to carry the weight of understanding. “To remember a past life…” he said after a moment, “It sounds… intriguing, perhaps, to some. But watching you…I now know that kind of memory is as much a burden as it is a gift. Dreadful, even.” He turned to face her more directly, his expression unreadable but watchful. “When the Wise Ones taught me how to make the tea, Bair…” he hesitated, then continued, “she was concerned. She doesn’t know the details, I didn’t tell her. But she said you shouldn’t be having them every night. Not like this. Not so vivid. Not so constant.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Elyndria asked tiredly

“The Wise Ones might be able to help you. These dreams are bleeding through from another life, they might know how to help you control them. Guide them. So they don’t take more from you than they already have.” Lan replied

Elyndria let out a soft, shuddering breath, the firelight flickering in her eyes. She nodded, slowly, firmly.

“I’ll speak to them tomorrow.”

Lan gave the barest of nods. “Good.”

They sat in silence a little longer, the fire crackling between them. The night stretched out across the desert, vast and quiet. Above them, the stars glittered like tiny fragments of some ancient, shattered truth. They stayed close by the fire for a few moments until Elyndria drank all of her tea. She stood up and pressed her hand upon Lan’s shoulder and squeezed it gently.

“Thank you.” She whispered, hoping he could hear the gratefulness in her voice. He responded with a small nod before turning his gaze back to the fire as she walked away.

Elyndria slipped back into the tent with slow, quiet steps. The cool hush inside wrapped around her like a blanket, muffling the soft breathing that came from the other side of their bedding. Rand stirred faintly but didn’t wake as she lay beside him, easing under the light covers.

She hesitated a moment before curling close, resting her head against his shoulder. As if sensing her, even in sleep, Rand's arms moved around her, drawing her tightly against him. He breathed a quiet sigh, one hand sliding up her back, and curled into her warmth. The tension she hadn’t realized still lingered in her bones eased, and the quiet beat of his heart beneath her ear lulled her back into sleep. This time, no dreams came. Only warmth. Only rest.

---

By midday the following day, the jagged silhouettes of Cold Rock Hold rose from the desert—a scattering of stone dwellings and shaded ledges carved into the base of a cliff. The journey had been long, dust coating boots and cloaks, but there was a ripple of energy among the Tardaad as they approached. The Hold was a place of deep significance. A place of belonging.

Elyndria walked beside Rand, their hands brushing occasionally. Egwene, Moiraine, and Lan followed closely behind, eyes scanning the rising structures.

A line of Aiel stood waiting at the entrance—men and women with veils lowered, spears resting casually but always within reach. Children darted like lizards through the narrow pathways, quick and curious. The air felt ancient, purposeful. Alive. More of the Taarad were gathered inside the hold, their joyful cries and hoots echoing through the stoned walls. The Aiel beside Elyndria answered with matching whoops, and Aviendha called out with a beaming smile, her voice loud and glad.

Amid the crowd stood a tall, poised woman—her posture proud, her calm presence commanding. A soft smile touched her lips as she watched the newcomers. Rhuarc approached her, something almost tender slipping into his usually stern expression.

“Lian,” Aviendha replied, arms folded. “She is the Roofmistress of Cold Rock Hold. She keeps the peace. And order.”

They watched as Rhuarc approached the woman. His shoulders softened slightly as he neared her, the lines of tension in his face easing. “I ask leave to enter your Hold, Roofmistress.”

Lian smiled and bowed her head slightly “You have my leave, Clan Chief. Shade of my heart, you always have my leave.”

“I give thanks, Roofmistress of my heart.”  Rhuarc replied and he leaned forward and kissed her, gentle and unhurried, like a man greeting a part of his soul. Elyndria blinked, startled. Her gaze darted back instinctively to where Bair stood several paces behind them, arms folded, watching with a small, knowing smile.

“Wait... I thought—” Elyndria muttered.

Egwene’s whisper came at the same moment. “Isn’t Rhuarc with Bair?”

Before either could say more, Bair stepped forward herself and kissed Lian, the kiss was warm, respectful—tender in its own way.

Elyndria’s confusion only grew as Rhuarc turned back to them with calm pride.  “You have met my wife Bair,” he said, nodding toward the Wise One behind him. “Now, meet my wife, Lian.”

Egwene gaped. “Two wives?”

Elyndria gave a low grunt, brows lifting. “Apparently so.”

Before they could dwell on that revelation, a flash of motion streaked across the stone courtyard. A child, no older than ten, ran with fierce determination her long red hair a wild halo around her sun-browned face.

 “Greatfather!”

Rhuarc’s face broke into an expression Elyndria had never seen on him before—pure, unfiltered joy. He crouched slightly to receive the girl, his arms scooping her up with practiced ease. “And this whirlwind is my greatdaughter, Alsera.”

The girl squirmed out of his arms with the single-minded purpose of a child on a mission and marched straight over to Rand. She stopped directly in front of him, feet planted, eyes narrowed.

 “Are you the Car'a'carn? Greatmother says you are.” Alsera said. She did not ask the question but more stated it then anything.

Rand blinked, then knelt slowly, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the twin dragons etched in gold along his forearm. “I am.”

Alsera stared at the tattoos as if they were the most wondrous thing she’d ever seen. Her eyes grew impossibly wide. “Whoa.”

Elyndria watched the awe in the little girl's face, then the strange softness in Rand’s eyes. He didn’t look like a chief or a Dragon Reborn in that moment. Just a man kneeling in front of a child, caught between destiny and wonder.

“She’s bold,” Egwene whispered with a faint smile.

“She’s Aiel,” Aviendha replied dryly. “What did you expect?”

Elyndria’s gaze flicked from Rand to Rhuarc, to Lian and Bair, then to the cliffs behind the Hold, where more Aiel looked down on them with silent interest. It felt like they had stepped into a different world altogether.

Lian stepped forward, her presence as composed and graceful as the stone cliffs behind her. The gentle wind teased the hair that framed her angular face, silver beads catching in the sunlight as she regarded the newcomers with a serene, assessing gaze. “You are welcome in Cold Rock Hold,” she said, her voice calm but carrying easily over the stone courtyard. “You honor us with your presence. Rest now. The journey from Rhuidean is long, and the Three-fold Land does not give mercy freely.”

She lifted one hand, and several Aiel—young men and women garbed in cadin’sor, their veils lowered in peace—stepped forward silently.

“These will guide you to your holdings,” Lian continued, motioning toward the stone pathways that branched off deeper into the Hold. “I have had your spaces prepared. Water waits there. Let your bodies and your minds recover. There will be time to speak later.”

Her smile was kind but measured, and she stepped back in one fluid motion, allowing the group to move forward.

Elyndria began to follow with Rand, her hand brushing his sleeve, but a warm pressure suddenly caught her arm. She turned to find Melaine beside her, her hair gleaming beneath the sun, hands gentle but firm on Elyndria’s arm. Beside her stood Bair, her face like stone etched by time, unreadable but watchful.

“Wait,” Melaine said softly, her voice a murmur that nonetheless left no room for argument.

Elyndria blinked, confused, as Rand and the others paused. Egwene turned with a questioning look, but Bair met her gaze steadily and nodded toward the path.

“We must speak with Elyndria,” Bair said, her tone even and final. “Her business is her own.”

There was a flicker of protest in Egwene’s eyes, but she reined it in quickly, giving a slow, respectful nod before glancing once at Elyndria and turning to follow the Aiel guides. Lan lingered a moment longer, his hand resting protectively on Moiraine’s back. The Aes Sedai looked between the Wise Ones and Elyndria, unreadable emotion flickering in her gaze, but she did not press. At Lan’s soft guidance, she turned and moved away, her eyes cutting back one last time before disappearing down the stone path.

Only Rand remained.

His jaw was tight, and Elyndria could feel the unease through the bond, a thread of tension coiled tight beneath his ribs. His gaze lingered on Bair, on Melaine’s hand on her arm, and then finally settled on Elyndria with quiet resistance.

Elyndria gave him a soft smile and touched his hand lightly. “Go,” she said gently. “I’ll be fine. Just make sure we get a good room.”

His frown deepened. “You sure?”

She nodded, pressing his hand in hers. “I promise. I’ll come to you soon.”

Rand held her gaze for a heartbeat longer, then let out a slow breath through his nose, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly. With one last lingering look, he turned and followed the others, his back straight, but his steps slower than usual. When he was gone, Elyndria turned back to the Wise Ones, her expression shifting into something quieter—more unsure.

“What is it?” she asked, voice low. “Why stop me?”

Bair looked at her for a long moment, then motioned toward the quiet interior of the Hold. “We have much to speak of,” she said. “Come. The sun is high, and you carry more than you should.”

Elyndria’s pulse ticked upward, her breath catching in her throat. She glanced once toward the path where Rand had disappeared, then turned and followed the Wise Ones into the shadows of Cold Rocks Hold. The Wise Ones led Elyndria through a narrow stone corridor that opened into a spacious, circular chamber nestled deep within Cold Rocks Hold. The walls were carved smooth, etched with faint winding patterns, soft tapestries hanging where the stone met arching beams above. Warm light filtered in from a narrow, slitted window, and the scent of herbs lingered faintly in the air—something grounding, steadying.

Melaine gestured wordlessly to the woven mats on the floor. Bair knelt gracefully, folding her legs beneath her, while Melaine joined her in one fluid motion. Elyndria hesitated for only a heartbeat before lowering herself into place across from them, legs tucked beneath her, palms pressed nervously to her thighs.

Bair’s eyes met hers, sharp and steady. “Lan has spoken to us about your dreams,” she began.

Melaine, ever more blunt, leaned forward with a grunt. “Though we already noticed the unrest in you long before he said a word. It clings to your body like heat on stone—especially when Rand al’Thor was within Rhuidean.”

Bair made a soft humming sound of agreement. “Lan came to us quietly. He asked if we might help you, as we are helping Egwene. He said your nights have become restless. That you, too, are haunted.”

Elyndria swallowed hard and nodded, her fingers tugging lightly at the fabric of her clothes. “Yes. I… I was going to come to you about it. I’ve wanted to.” Her voice dropped. “I just… I don’t have Egwene’s gifts. I can’t dreamwalk. So I thought… maybe there wouldn’t be much help for me.”

Melaine’s eyes narrowed slightly. “True. What we do for Egwene, we cannot do the same for you. There are limits. But that does not mean we cannot help in our own way.”

“We can guide you,” Bair added. “Help you understand. Perhaps even ease the weight of them, if not remove it entirely.”

Melaine motioned gently. “Come. Sit properly with us. Breathe. Speak clearly.”

Elyndria shifted, straightening her back and lifting her chin slightly. The room was quiet, but not unkind. The Wise Ones studied her with the patient calm of deep water, waiting. “They’re not just dreams,” Elyndria said softly, her voice trembling at the edges. “They’re memories. From a past life.”

Neither Wise One spoke, but their expressions sharpened slightly—attention intensifying. Bair’s brow rose ever so slightly, the only sign of surprise on her otherwise impassive face.

“Whose life?” Bair asked.

“Ilyena Therin,” Elyndria whispered. “The Dragon’s wife.”

The silence that followed was thick, weighted.

Bair inhaled slowly, as if drawing the shape of the name into herself. “The wife of Lews Therin Telamon,” she said, voice low, as though speaking a title carved in stone. “A name lost to the Ages, now spoken again.”

Elyndria nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “We’re not sure why it’s happening. If it’s… because of Rand. Or because of a moment in a Waygate. The Machin Shin whispered to me there, told me things I didn’t understand at the time. I still don’t. But it started after that.” She looked between them. “Sometimes the dreams are good. Joyful, even. I… I dream of children. A life. A home. I feel peace.” Her lips quivered, and she forced herself to go on. “But lately… even when they start with laughter, they always end in shadow. Everything darkens. The joy turns to dread.”

Melaine’s eyes softened slightly. “And you see the dragon?”

“Yes,” Elyndria said. “I see him. Always near. Sometimes in the distance. Sometimes close.”

Bair nodded slowly, exchanging a glance with Melaine, something passing silently between them. “This is no small thing,” Bair said after a long pause. “To carry the memories of a lifelong dead is a burden many could not bear.”

“But it is also a thread in the Pattern,” Melaine added. “Perhaps a frayed one. Perhaps one left unfinished, now re-woven.”

Elyndria looked down at her hands, then back up at them. “I don’t know what it means. But I need to understand. Before it drives me to fear sleep.”

“You will speak with us each evening,” Bair said firmly. “We will listen. We will teach you what we can. There are ways to steady the mind even if one cannot walk the World of Dreams. There are herbs that calm the spirit. But more than that… you must learn to face what is behind the veil. Not run from it.”

Elyndria exhaled shakily, something loosening in her chest. “Thank you. I… I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“You are wise to come,” Melaine said. “And you are not alone.”

Bair’s expression turned thoughtful. “We will find the heart of this, child. Even if it lies buried deep in the past.”

As the weight of Bair’s words lingered in the air, the Wise One's gaze softened, and she gestured toward the door. “Now, child,” Bair said, her tone gentle yet commanding. “Go to your friends. Enjoy a few quiet moments away from the weight of your dreams. Let the sun on your face remind you that you are alive in this moment. But when you see your friends, send Egwene to us. Her training in the Tel'aran'rhiod begins soon."

Elyndria’s heart gave a small flutter at the thought of seeing her friends again, of having a brief respite from the swirling thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. She nodded, her lips curving into a small, appreciative smile. “I will. Thank you, Bair. Melaine.”

Melaine gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, her lips curving in a rare, fleeting smile. “Go now, Elyndria. Find peace in the quiet, if only for a time.”

Elyndria rose to her feet, but before she could take a step, Melaine’s voice rang out in the soft Aiel tongue, the words flowing like a melody through the air. Elyndria’s attention snapped to the doorway, where an older woman appeared. Her head was respectfully bowed, her posture one of quiet dignity.

Melaine's gaze shifted to the newcomer, and she gestured with a subtle movement of her hand. “Take the Aes Sedai to her friends,” Melaine instructed in her usual blunt manner.

The older woman nodded with a slight bow, her gaze warm but filled with quiet strength. She stepped forward, her movements measured but graceful. With a gesture, she motioned for Elyndria to follow her. Elyndria hesitated for a brief moment, casting a final glance toward the Wise Ones, who watched her with knowing eyes. With a small bow of her head, she turned and followed the older woman, her footsteps echoing softly through the stone corridors of Cold Rock Hold.

As she walked, the weight of her conversation with the Wise Ones seemed to lessen, if only for a moment. The cool air, the scent of stone and herbs, and the distant murmur of the wind outside provided a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. The woman before her moved with quiet authority, leading her through winding passageways until the sounds of the bustling Hold grew louder.

As Elyndria followed the older woman through Cold Rocks Hold, she couldn’t help but notice the constant, curious gaze of the Taardad upon her. Their eyes were not unfriendly—there was no malice in their watchfulness—but a quiet interest, an unspoken question that hung in the air. Their gaze was persistent but not intrusive, and Elyndria couldn’t help but feel the weight of it as she walked. She offered a small smile when their eyes met, nodding politely, trying not to appear as shy as she felt under their scrutiny.

The older woman noticed Elyndria’s discomfort and let out a soft chuckle, the sound rich and warm against the cool air of the stone corridors. “Do not shrink under their gazes, Aes Sedai,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing note. “They are simply curious about new faces, especially ones that arrived with the Car'a'carn.”

Elyndria blinked in surprise at the woman’s words, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbed the meaning. She hadn’t expected the old woman to speak so plainly about Rand. “You have no doubts about Rand being the Car'a'carn?” Elyndria asked quietly, her voice full of a mix of curiosity and hesitation.

The older woman shook her head slowly, the simple gesture firm and resolute. “No,” she said, her voice unwavering. “He bears the marks, does he not? And I have full trust in the Wise Ones and our Clan Chief.”

Elyndria’s heart gave a small thump at the confidence in the woman’s words. It was clear that the Taardad Aiel were not divided in their belief of Rand’s destiny. A deep, unspoken trust in the Prophecies and in their leaders tied them together, as surely as the Pattern wove its threads through all their lives.

The path soon widened, and they reached the gathering spot where her friends had settled under the open shade of the stone cliffs. Elyndria's gaze immediately noticed the large frame of Rhuarc, who was lying on his side, relaxed between Lian and Alsera, the young girl speaking animatedly with a wide, infectious smile on her face. Rand, Aviendha, Egwene, Moiraine, and Lan sat nearby, eating their food with quiet conversation. They seemed to be amused by Alsera’s words, and even Moiraine—who often seemed so composed—had a small, fond smile on her lips as she watched the girl with a soft expression.

When Egwene saw Elyndria approaching, her face brightened, and she smiled warmly. “You’re back,” she said, her voice filled with relief.

Elyndria nodded and took a seat beside Rand, his presence offering a small sense of calm amidst the whirlwind of emotions she had just left behind with the Wise Ones.

“Yes,” she said softly. “The Wise Ones just wanted to speak to me about my dreams. They wish for you to join them in their holdings.”

Egwene’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of reluctance crossing her face as she glanced at the food. Her gaze lingered longingly on the meal before her, as if the thought of leaving this quiet, simple moment behind weighed heavily on her. But Alsera, eager and full of energy, leaned forward from where she sat and held out a piece of squash with an enthusiastic smile.

“Here, Wetlander,” she said, her tone filled with the kind of friendly warmth that could easily make anyone forget any discomfort. “Have some squash.They’re delicious.”

Egwene chuckled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she accepted the squash from the young girl, taking a small bite. Her smile returned, if only briefly, before she glanced back at Elyndria.

Before Elyndria could say more, the older woman stepped forward again, her presence commanding in the way that only the Aiel could manage. She gestured for Egwene to follow. “Come. I will take you to their holdings.”

Egwene hesitated for a moment, looking toward the group and the food with one last longing glance. But with a resigned sigh, she took another bite from the squash and nodded, her face softening with acceptance.

“Alright,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. The old woman turned, and Egwene followed her with one last glance toward Elyndria, who gave her a reassuring smile as the two left the shaded gathering and made their way toward the Wise Ones’ chambers. 

Elyndria remained sitting beside Rand, the warmth of his presence grounding her as they shared the quiet moments with their friends. She felt the subtle shift in the air as Rand reached forward, his hand resting gently on her thigh. His fingers squeezed lightly. Elyndria’s heart fluttered at the touch, a quiet smile tugging at her lips, though she was acutely aware of the curious gazes around them.

Alsera, ever observant, leaned forward again, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Are you the Car'a'carn’s lover?” she asked, her tone blunt yet full of innocent inquiry.

Rand’s eyes widened at the unexpected question, and he choked on the piece of vegetable he’d been chewing, coughing slightly as he covered his mouth, his eyes sparkling with delight and amusement. Elyndria’s cheeks flushed bright red at the directness of the question, her heart beating faster in both surprise and embarrassment. She could feel the warmth spreading across her skin, the moment suddenly feeling far more intimate and exposed than she was comfortable with.

Aviendha, sitting beside her, burst out laughing, a wide grin spreading across her face. The sound of her laughter was light and free, infectious in its joy. Rhuarc, Lian and Lan joined in, their laughter a soft, melodic chorus. Even Moiraine, who often kept her expressions in check, wore a warm, amused smile as she watched the exchange. Elyndria could only chuckle nervously, her hands tucked in her lap, trying to remain composed despite the teasing.

Rand, after swallowing the last of his food, grinned at Elyndria with that familiar, mischievous glint in his eyes. “She is my love,” he said, his voice full of warmth and affection, his hand still resting on her thigh. “Her name is Elyndria.”

Elyndria, still feeling the heat of her blush but unable to suppress a smile, turned her attention to Alsera. “Hello, Alsera,” she said warmly, trying to ease the awkwardness that had settled in.

Alsera’s face lit up with a bright, enthusiastic smile. “Hello, Elyndria!” she replied, her voice filled with cheer. Without a second thought, she reached for another squash and handed it to Elyndria, her gesture filled with pride. “Try them. They’re very good.”

Elyndria couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sheer earnestness in Alsera’s offer. She accepted the squash, bringing it to her mouth and taking a small bite. The taste was surprisingly sweet and savory, a perfect blend of flavors that made her eyes widen in surprise. “It’s yummy,” Elyndria said with a smile, her tone full of appreciation for the young girl’s effort.

Alsera beamed, clearly pleased with the compliment. “I picked them from the garden myself,” she said proudly, her chest puffing out with a sense of accomplishment.

As Elyndria chewed the squash, she caught Rand’s gaze, the easy warmth between them returning as she met his eyes. For a brief moment, the world seemed to slow down, the laughter of their friends blending into the background as they shared this simple, quiet connection.

The voices of the group faded into the background as Elyndria sat quietly beside Rand, listening to Aviendha and Rhuarc as they shared stories of the Aiel. Their words were filled with pride, the rhythm of their speech pulling Elyndria deeper into the rich history of the Aiel. Aviendha’s eyes shone brightly as she spoke of the Maiden’s dance, her voice carrying the passion she held for her people’s rituals. Rhuarc, calm and steady, added his own pieces to the tale, his voice deep and unwavering, like the thunder rumbling in the distance. The stories wove a tapestry of honor, battle, and the sacred connection the Aiel had with the land and the spear.

Rand, captivated by their stories, asked questions every now and then, his curiosity clear in his eager gaze. Lan, sitting beside him, listened with furrowed brow, occasionally offering a quiet comment, clearly deep in thought.  Meanwhile, Lian sat beside Alsera, listening intently to the young girl’s excited recounting of her day. Alsera’s words were simple, yet filled with joy as she described gathering herbs and playing with the children of the clan. 

Elyndria, for her part, was content to listen, occasionally chiming in when something caught her interest. The fresh fruits and vegetables before her were a rare treat—something she hadn’t tasted in far too long while journeying through the Aiel Waste. The crisp cucumbers, the sweet oranges, and the rich flavors of the squash were like a blessing. She savored each bite, her heart light for the first time in days.

As the conversation around her turned to clan matters and border movements, Elyndria leaned forward slightly. “How many Taardad are there, truly?” she asked, curiosity dancing in her voice. “Aviendha told me that the Taardad stretch across half the Waste.”

Rhuarc gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth tugging into something like amusement. “We are many,” he said. “The Taardad are the largest of the twelve clans. Tens of thousands strong, spread among more than a dozen septs—each with its own holds, warriors, and Wise Ones. Some live near the Spine of the World, others closer to the Dry Hills or the Three-fold Land's deeper reaches. But we are one clan, bound by blood, ji, and tradition.”

Elyndria blinked, impressed. “That’s more than I imagined.” She hesitated, then asked, “And who leads the other septs? Are they all under your command?”

Rhuarc’s expression remained calm, though a flicker of something—perhaps pride or weariness—crossed his eyes. “Each sept has its own sept chief, chosen from among their people, and each holds authority within their own hold or range. They do not answer to me in all things, only in matters that touch the entire clan. We speak together when needed, and sometimes we disagree. But a clan chief must know when to listen, and when to lead.”

She nodded slowly, considering that. “So it’s unity, but not obedience.”

“Aiel do not bend easily,” Rhuarc said, his tone dry. “Not even to each other.”

A subtle shift in the atmosphere in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Moiraine, who had been sitting quietly, stood up, her motion drawing the eyes of the group.

Lan began to rise with her, but Moiraine raised her hand, gesturing for him to stay. "No, no," she said, her voice calm but with a softer edge. "Stay. Enjoy yourself." Lan hesitated, and after a moment of silent debate, he sank back into his seat, though his posture remained slightly tense. Moiraine’s gaze shifted to Elyndria, and with a slight nod, she gestured for her to stand. "Will you join me?" she asked, her voice low but inviting.

Elyndria glanced over at Rand, who was watching her with quiet curiosity. She offered him a reassuring smile, her hand briefly patting his knee. She would be fine. No need for him to worry. His gaze softened, and he returned to listening to Aviendha as she spoke about how the Aiel hunted for their food. Elyndria stood, moving with fluid grace as she followed Moiraine, the soft echo of their footsteps blending into the quiet evening air.

As they walked away from the lively noise of the clan, the bustling energy of Cold Rocks Hold faded behind them. The stone walls that had once felt imposing seemed more distant now, the murmur of the voices from the gathering becoming little more than a soft hum. Elyndria and Moiraine were left alone, the silence between them comfortable yet filled with unspoken words.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the sound of their footsteps against the stone and the occasional whisper of the wind through the narrow passages of Cold Rocks Hold being the only sounds. Elyndria stole a glance at Moiraine, her curiosity piqued, but she remained silent. Elyndria respected the quiet, sensing that Moiraine preferred to speak when she was ready.

Moiraine stopped in front of a stone building, her movements deliberate. She glanced back at Elyndria, her expression unreadable. "Wait here," she said softly before disappearing inside.

Elyndria stood by the door, her curiosity growing with every passing moment. The quiet of the evening settled around her, but her thoughts were full of questions. What could Moiraine be doing in the building? What was so important that she had Elyndria leave the group to speak to her by herself?

Seconds later, Moiraine returned, holding a small cloth bundle in her hands. She carried it carefully, as if it contained something fragile, something precious. Elyndria couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, her gaze falling to the bundle as Moiraine approached.

“What is it?” Elyndria asked, her voice low, as her eyes studied the way Moiraine held the cloth, her fingers gentle but firm around it.

Moiraine’s smile was mysterious, a hint of something unreadable in her eyes. “Something I found in Rhuidean,” she replied cryptically, her tone giving nothing more away.

Elyndria watched her, the intrigue stirring deeper within her. Rhuidean was a place of great significance to the Aiel, and what Moiraine could have found there was still a mystery. Without saying another word, Moiraine began walking, her steps purposeful. Elyndria followed closely behind, her curiosity now fully piqued. As they walked, Elyndria couldn’t help but glance over at Moiraine, wondering just what she had discovered. Finally, unable to hold back, she asked, “Are you going to explain what you found, or continue to keep quiet?”

Moiraine’s smile widened, but there was no answer—only the faintest glint of amusement in her eyes. She led them out of Cold Rocks Hold, the world around them opening up to the wide expanse of the Aiel Waste. The open plain stretched before them, its endless horizon whispering of isolation and the harsh beauty of the land. Moiraine stopped in the middle of the plain, bending down to place the cloth on the sand. Elyndria came to stand beside her, watching closely as Moiraine opened the bundle. The cloth unfurled, revealing a small sphere nestled within.

It was pure white, gleaming softly in the fading light, and for a moment, Elyndria could only stare at it in awe. It was beautiful, but there was something more to it—something she couldn’t quite explain. The more she looked, the more she felt the pull of its power, the quiet hum of something ancient, something potent. Elyndria leaned closer, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed at the sphere. It radiated power, an energy that was not entirely familiar to her but unmistakable all the same.

“What is it?” Elyndria whispered, her voice barely audible, as though speaking too loudly might disturb the delicate balance of the power that seemed to surround the sphere.

Moiraine remained silent for a moment, watching the sphere with an intensity that matched Elyndria’s. Finally, she spoke, her voice low but filled with a quiet certainty. “This,” she said, “is something far older than we can comprehend. Something that has been hidden for a very long time.”

Elyndria could only nod, her mind racing. What had Moiraine uncovered? And why had it been hidden away in Rhuidean? The answers seemed just beyond her grasp, but one thing was certain—the power of the sphere was undeniable.

Moiraine’s eyes lingered on the small, white sphere for a moment longer before she lifted it carefully from the cloth. It fit into her palm like it belonged there—light, smooth, but thrumming with restrained energy. The air around them seemed to grow still, as if the Waste itself was listening. “This,” she said quietly, reverently, “is the Sakarnen.”

The name struck something in Elyndria, a faint bell ringing deep in her memory. Her brows drew together. “I've heard that word before.”

Moiraine looked up at her, calm and certain, her voice firm and clear. “It is an object of power. A sa’angreal. One of the strongest ever made for a woman. The female complement to Callandor. Hidden, deep within Rhuidean. I wasn’t even certain it was real until I touched it and felt its strength.”

Elyndria took a slow step closer, her gaze fixed on the sa’angreal. A mixture of awe, excitement, and an overwhelming sense of possibility rose in her chest like a tidal wave. “This could help us,” she breathed. “We could fight back—truly fight. Against the Shadow. Against the Dark One himself.”

“Yes,” Moiraine said, her voice softer now. “That is why I brought it. That is why I’ve been learning how to use it—quietly, cautiously—since I left Rhuidean. But now that we’ve reached Cold Rocks Hold, the space, the quiet… I can wield it more freely. Test its strength. Channel bigger.”

She lifted Sakarnen, holding it delicately between both hands. Then she closed her eyes.

Elyndria stood still, barely breathing.

The instant Moiraine embraced the Source, Elyndria felt it—the shift in the air, the subtle humming that tingled along her skin like the breath before a storm. And then, she saw.

Light flared around Moiraine as the Power surged into her, magnified through Sakarnen. It was not wild or chaotic—it was exquisite, a controlled torrent shaped by will and deep mastery. Elyndria’s breath caught as the weaves unfolded before her eyes: threads of Fire and Air, Water, Spirit, and Earth, each glowing with their distinct colors, vibrant and alive.

They wove themselves into intricate patterns—beautiful, terrifying in their precision. Elyndria watched as Moiraine layered them, knotting threads of Spirit into latticework that shimmered like sunlight on water. Strands of Fire laced through the air in arcs of crimson-gold, interwoven with cool silver flows of Air that danced like windblown silk. Water and Earth spiraled together beneath their feet, sinking into the sand and causing the ground to resonate faintly, like a distant drumbeat. The scale of it was staggering. Elyndria had seen Moiraine channel before, but never like this. Sakarnen made her a conduit for something far greater than strength alone.

Moiraine remained poised, hands steady, her face serene as the weaves continued to build and bloom around her.

Finally, the weaves began to slow. One by one, Moiraine unraveled them, drawing back the threads with breathtaking precision. The light dimmed. The wind stilled. And Sakarnen pulsed once in her hands before going quiet. Moiraine opened her eyes. A faint glow of saidar still clung to her skin like moonlight. She looked to Elyndria—not seeking approval, not even pride—but with a calm certainty that needed no validation.

Elyndria exhaled, barely realizing she’d been holding her breath. Her voice was soft. “I’ve never seen anything so… powerful. So beautiful.”

Moiraine nodded. “It is both. Power without control is dangerous. But with Sakarnen, I can wield what I must.” She looked out toward the horizon, her expression unreadable. “We will need every strength we have in the days ahead. And this… this may turn the tide.”

Elyndria stepped beside her, eyes still drawn to the sphere in Moiraine’s hands. The weight of it all settled on her shoulders.

Moiraine turned her gaze on Elyndria, sharp and unreadable in the fading light. “But the Sakarnen is not the only new strength on our side.” Elyndria blinked, caught off guard. “I was watching you,” Moiraine continued, voice calm, steady. “In the early morning on our journey to Cold Rocks Hold. When you wandered from your tent, when you thought no one was awake. Channeling… in a way I have not seen before.”

Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart stuttered once, then beat faster. She hadn’t noticed anyone watching—not then. She thought those moments were hers alone, stolen pieces of silence where she could feel out the strange, beautiful pull of the weaves forming at her fingertips.

“I was going to tell you about it,” she said softly, trying to find the right words. “I just wanted to… explore it first.”

“Well,” Moiraine said, setting Sakarnen carefully onto the cloth and wrapping it with the same reverence one might offer a sacred relic, “then tell me now.”

The firmness in her voice left no room for evasion, but there was no harshness in it either. Only urgency. Curiosity.

Elyndria knelt beside her in the sand, folding her legs beneath her. She rubbed her palms against her knees, grounding herself. She looked up, meeting Moiraine’s eyes, and felt the weight of what she was about to share settle in her chest. “It started while you and Rand were in Rhuidean,” she said slowly. “I was practicing. Just… playing around with the weaves. Air, Fire, and Spirit. And then suddenly—light began to shape. Not just shine. Shape.” Moiraine watched her, silent and intent. “I created an image,” Elyndria continued. “An illusion—but more than that. It felt… alive. It wasn’t like the simple Mirror of Mists or masking weaves they taught us at the Tower. It was like I was pulling something from inside myself and weaving it into the world. A memory.” She paused, breath trembling. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It was like watching my memories dance in front of me. Moving. Glowing. Breathing.”

Moiraine’s expression shifted—just slightly. A flicker of intrigue. But she said nothing, letting Elyndria continue.

“So I kept exploring. Each morning, when the camp was still asleep. I tried again and again. And I found I could… shape it more precisely. I learned to shift the angle of light, to color it, even bend it. I used Air to lift and spin it, Fire to heat the tones, Spirit to… tie it all together. It responds to how I feel, to what I remember, to what I want to show.” Elyndria drew in a breath, her hands gesturing instinctively as though she could summon the weaves into being again. “It’s not just illusion. It’s something deeper. Emotional. Reflective. When I focus, I can make entire scenes appear.”

Moiraine finally spoke, her voice quieter now, thoughtful. “You’re not simply creating illusion… You’re weaving light.”

Elyndria nodded. “I don’t know what to call it. But it feels like it wants to be expressed. Like the memories and emotions themselves are part of the weave. Not just fuel, but form.”

Moiraine’s eyes gleamed in the dimming light, and a rare smile touched her lips—subtle but real. “This is no minor gift. It is something rare. Perhaps… something lost.”

Elyndria’s gaze flicked to her. “Do you think it’s a Talent?”

Moiraine looked out at the darkening plain, her expression unreadable again. “Perhaps. Or perhaps something older. Buried in the Pattern, waiting for the right hands to bring it forward again.”

Elyndria felt her heart thudding with excitement—and fear. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

Moiraine placed a hand gently on Elyndria’s arm, grounding her. “You are no longer a novice. The Pattern has chosen you to stand beside the Dragon Reborn. It does not choose lightly.” Elyndria’s throat tightened. Moiraine withdrew her hand and looked down at the wrapped Sakarnen. “We both have new strengths. And we will need them—sooner than you think.”

The breeze stirred the hem of her cloak as the stars began to prick the sky, silent witnesses to truths newly spoken and power quietly awakening. Moiraine glanced toward the open plain, then back to Elyndria. Her voice was calm, but edged with quiet expectation.

“Show me.”

Elyndria hesitated only a moment. Then she nodded and drew a steadying breath. The desert air was cool on her skin as she stood, brushing the fine sand from her skirts. She stepped forward, just a few paces away, the horizon vast before her. The sky had begun to darken as the sun began to fade away. All was still—perfect for weaving.

She closed her eyes.

Her breath slowed. Her heartbeat quieted.

Then she reached for saidar.

It surged into her like a rising tide of golden light—pure, wild, and intoxicating. Saidar wrapped around her, through her, filling her veins with radiant warmth. The world sharpened. Every grain of sand beneath her feet, every whisper of breeze, every pulse of life around her came into focus. She welcomed it with practiced ease, and the weave began. Air. Fire. Spirit. She let them flow, guided by instinct and emotion. The threads shimmered into being—delicate lines of power dancing in the air, glowing in her sight like spun gold. Fire shaped the brightness, Air carried its form, and Spirit gave it depth, rooted it in something deeper.

Before her, the first vision began to unfold.

The White Tower.

It rose slowly from the darkness, silver-white and impossibly tall, gleaming softly in the night. Light flowed over its surface like water, illuminating windows, arches, and spires. It looked like something born from a dream—distant, untouchable, serene.

Moiraine took a quiet step forward. Her breath caught.

The image shifted, rippling like a banner in the wind.

Elyndria focused again, calling forth the next memory. A girl in novice whites stood in the courtyard below the Tower, young and still, clutching a book to her chest. Her pale blond hair fell in a short sweep above her shoulders, her wide green eyes filled with cautious resolve. She turned slowly within the image, reacting to someone unseen—herself, frozen in time.

Then another vision—clearer, sharper.

Saerel and Moiraine beneath a sun-drenched archway, robes stirring in the breeze. Saerel’s expression was fierce, her gestures deliberate. Moiraine nodded to something she said, her eyes sharp with thought. The memory shimmered with intimacy, the sun slanting just so through the columns behind them.

Next, the memory changed again—this time hotter, more alive.

Alanna.

Green shawl whipping in the wind, her dark hair wild. Her eyes glowed with fierce intent as fire blazed around her. She was locked in battle, weaves flaring from her hands. The illusion danced and sparked, light flaring like flames against the dark.

But then—

It changed.

The memories faded.

The weave did not.

The light… lingered.

It rippled across the plain, spilling warmth through the air like sunlight through clear water. Threads of brightness flowed around Elyndria’s arms, not forming images now, but something freer—alive. The weave pulsed with a rhythm of its own, like a heartbeat. The glow intensified. Not harsh, but warm—almost too warm. The heat pricked her skin, sweat beading at her brow, yet she did not release it.

The light danced, no longer memory, no longer illusion.

It was something else.

It spun and swirled, dancing in the air like flame and wind woven together. It moved not with direction, but with intention—mirroring the shape of her thoughts, her emotion. The light responded to her joy, her sorrow, her wonder.

Then… silence.

The weaves faded, the last threads of Fire curling away like smoke from her fingertips. Elyndria exhaled, chest rising and falling with the weight of the power still tingling through her.

She turned toward Moiraine.

The Blue Aes Sedai stood frozen. Her face was bathed in the lingering gold of the light, her expression unreadable at first—but then, unmistakably, wonder bloomed in her eyes.

Moiraine stepped forward slowly, as if afraid to disturb whatever still clung to the air. The light had faded, yes, but the space it left behind felt changed. Brighter. Charged with something unspoken. She looked at Elyndria, truly looked, and her voice, when it came, was soft. Almost reverent. "I have seen illusions made with the Power before," she said. "I have even seen the work of dreamers—of Tel’aran’rhiod touching the waking world. But what you’ve just done…” She trailed off for a breath. “That was something else entirely.”

Elyndria didn’t speak. She stood still, her skin still aglow with the echo of the weave, her breath coming slow and deep. 

“It wasn’t just what you showed,” Moiraine continued, her voice strengthening, “it was how it moved. Light doesn’t behave that way on its own. It doesn't pulse to emotion. It doesn’t breathe with memory. It doesn’t respond—unless something in you calls it.” She turned her gaze back to where the vision had been. The last threads of Elyndria’s weaving still shimmered faintly on the wind, like afterimages in the dark. “It danced,” Moiraine said quietly. “It lived. It wasn’t just a projection—it was… expression. Intention.”

Elyndria glanced down, her fingers brushing together as if still feeling the threads there. “It’s always like that,” she admitted. “When I weave like this. If I let myself feel too much, it burns too hot. But if I hold just the right balance—between memory and meaning—it listens to me.”

Moiraine gave a single nod, slow and thoughtful. “That is not illusion,” she said. “That is a form of… Lightweaving.”

Elyndria looked up sharply. “I didn't know what to name it. But....Lightweaving...,” she trailed off thoughtfully. “It feels right.”

Moiraine stepped closer, her eyes never leaving Elyndria’s. “I believe you may have rediscovered something long lost. Perhaps a Talent, or perhaps something even older—a fragment from the Age of Legends. A way of shaping the One Power through light and emotion, not just structure.” She tilted her head slightly, her tone shifting. “And you say it responds not only to memory, but to feeling?”

Elyndria nodded. “Yes. I can guide it with thought, but it reacts more to what I feel. Joy, fear, grief, hope. The stronger the feeling, the more vibrant the light becomes. I can’t always control it yet. But I’m trying.”

Moiraine looked deeply at her, something quiet and calculating behind her eyes—but also, something gentle. Something proud.

“You are not just showing memories, Elyndria. You are channeling meaning itself. That is dangerous… and extraordinary.”

She turned and looked again toward the open plain, the place where the light had danced. “And if you are right—if you can shape light like this—not just into visionaries but into something new… then it may have uses beyond what we imagine. Illusion, yes. Distraction, certainly. But also hope. Truth. Perhaps even battle.”

Elyndria swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to keep it secret. I just… I didn’t understand it yet.”

“I know,” Moiraine said, returning her gaze to her. “And I believe you. But you cannot keep this to yourself any longer. You are becoming something the world has not seen in a very long time. And if you do not master this gift, it will either burn you out…” Her eyes narrowed faintly. “Or others will seek to claim it.”

A silence stretched between them, taut and fragile.

Elyndria took a breath. “Then help me.”

Moiraine’s lips curved—just slightly. “I will.”

She glanced once more at the wrapped bundle on the sand—the Sakarnen, the ancient sa’angreal that pulsed with power even now—and then at Elyndria, her eyes unreadable again.

“You and I,” she said quietly, “are standing at the edge of something vast. The Pattern spins as it wills, but I do not believe it placed us here together by accident.”

Elyndria felt the weight of Moiraine’s words settle into her chest, a deep truth that seemed to wrap around her like the desert night air. There was an undeniable bond between them, something unspoken but shared—a thread that tied them not only to each other, but to the unfolding events that lay before them.

Moiraine did not elaborate, and Elyndria did not press. Both understood the weight of the words. Some things were meant to remain unsaid, their significance too great for easy conversation.

They walked back in silence for a time, the wind soft at their backs as the glow of Cold Rocks Hold rose into view like a slumbering beast in the shadows. The air had cooled with the deepening night.

Moiraine’s steps were sure, her expression unreadable once more—but Elyndria felt the weight of all that had passed between them hanging gently in the space between. Nothing more was said. Nothing needed to be.

They passed the sentries at the edge of the Hold, slipping between low walls and narrow alleys carved into the cliff. The scent of stone and sand and distant firelight curled around them, familiar now. The Aiel moved like whispers, unseen but ever-present.

Moiraine came to a stop before a modest stone dwelling nestled into the rock face, its entrance draped with a deep red flap embroidered in Aiel patterns. She turned to Elyndria and spoke quietly.

“You’ll be staying here. With Rand.”

Elyndria blinked, then nodded.

Moiraine went on, matter-of-fact. “Rhuarc shares this hold, as do Lian, Bair, and Alsera. They will not intrude unless invited.” A flicker of something unreadable passed over her face. “I imagine you will find the arrangement… agreeable.”

There was a ghost of a smile, quick and dry, before Moiraine turned and left without waiting for a reply, her blue cloak whispering against the stone.

Elyndria stood for a moment, her hand resting on the flap. The warmth of the interior beckoned—soft light flickered within, shadows dancing across the stone walls. She exhaled and stepped inside.

The room was dim and warm, lit by a single small oil lamp tucked near the far wall. A thick rug covered the floor, soft beneath her feet, and a low table sat nearby with two clay cups and a small bowl of dried fruit. But it was the bed in the center that drew her gaze.

Large, soft, layered in fine woven blankets—it looked utterly foreign to the austere Aiel surroundings, and wholly welcoming.

Rand was already there.

He lay on his side, one arm curled beneath his head, the other resting where she might soon lie. His chest rose and fell in deep, even rhythm, the faintest crease between his brows even in sleep—as though the weight of the world refused to fully release him, even here.

A slow, quiet smile touched Elyndria's lips. She moved quietly, undoing the braid from her hair. The strands tumbled down her back in a curtain of pale blonde, catching faint glints of lamplight. With deft fingers, she slipped out of her clothes and into a simple nightdress, the fabric soft against her skin. She padded across the floor and eased herself into the bed beside him.

Rand stirred slightly at her presence, a faint sound in his throat as he shifted toward her. “Mmnn… Elyndria?”

“Shh,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through his curls, cool from sleep. “I’m here.”

At the sound of her voice, he melted into her touch, the crease in his brow easing. She curled into his side, fitting perfectly into the curve of him, her arm draped over his waist.

He was already drifting again, his breath steady and warm against her cheek.

Elyndria exhaled, the tension of the day slipping from her limbs. The stone walls, the heat of the desert, the light of her weaving, the strange future waiting in Rhuidean—it all faded for now. Here, in this quiet, there was only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the weight of his arm, the safety of the dark.

She closed her eyes.

And sleep took her, gentle and sure.

Chapter 31: Learning something new

The first pale light of morning filtered into the room, streaking soft gold across the woven fabric and illuminating the dust motes that danced lazily in the still air. Elyndria stirred, eyes blinking open slowly as she felt the weight of Rand’s arm curled protectively around her. His breath was warm against the back of her neck, even and deep—finally at peace, if only for the moment. She stayed there a while, letting the quiet settle in her chest. Outside, the sounds of Cold Rocks Hold waking up were gentle: the shifting of feet on stone, the low murmur of Aiel voices, and the faint clinking of pots and water skins being filled.

Rand shifted behind her, his arm tightening briefly before loosening as he began to wake. His voice was groggy, rough from sleep. “You came back last night. I thought it was a dream I had.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Elyndria murmured, turning to face him. “You needed the rest.”

He blinked slowly, watching her. “You didn't tell me yesterday, while we were eating, about why the Wise Ones pulled you aside. What did they want?”

Elyndria hesitated a moment, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she sat up and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. “They wanted to speak with me about the dreams. Lan… he told them.”

Rand’s eyes narrowed slightly, his body shifting to sit up as well. “The dreams about Ilyena?”

She nodded. “They knew something was wrong before I even said anything. They noticed it while you were in Rhuidean—the unease, the sleeplessness.” Her fingers twisted in the edge of the blanket. “They’ve offered to help. Not like they help Egwene. I don’t have the gift of Dreamwalking. But they think… they think they can guide me. Help me understand why these memories are returning now.”

Rand reached out, his hand warm as it closed over hers. “Do you think they can help?”

“I don’t know,” Elyndria said honestly, her voice soft. “But it’s better than being alone with it. It’s not just the dreams themselves… it’s what they leave behind when I wake. The weight of them. The sorrow.”

Rand looked down, fingers tightening briefly. “I wish I could do something.”

“You are,” she said, tilting his chin up so his eyes met hers. “Just by being here. Just by holding me through it.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a breath before pulling back. “You’re stronger than me.”

She smiled faintly. “You always say that. One day you’ll believe me when I tell you it isn’t true.” Elyndria glanced around their room curiously, “So this is home away from home, is it?”

“Yes,” Rand hummed tiredly. “We share it with others; Rhuarac, Lian, Bair and the young girl, Alsera. They sleep upstairs.”

Outside, footsteps approached, and a voice called through the entrance flap, “Rand al’Thor. The Wise Ones request your presence.”

Rand groaned into his hands. “Light. Every time I think I might have a peaceful morning.”

Elyndria chuckled, moving to brush her hair. “Welcome to being the Car’a’carn.”

He shot her a look as he began pulling on his tunic. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“I find my joy where I can,” she teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek before rising. “Now go. Try not to offend them before breakfast.”

He groaned again, but with a faint smile, and ducked out of the stone building into the morning sun. Elyndria watched the flap of the entrance fall shut behind Rand, the soft thud of his boots fading into the distance. A strange stillness settled over the space once he was gone. She stood for a moment in the quiet, breathing deeply, grounding herself in the scents of canvas, woven blankets, and faint smoke drifting in from the cookfires outside. She stretched slowly, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension that had built overnight. Despite the comfort of waking in Rand’s arms, her body still carried a restless hum beneath the surface. The talk with the Wise Ones lingered in her mind—their calm voices, the weight of their gaze, the strange mix of reassurance and uncertainty she felt when they spoke of her dreams.

She changed into new clothes before stepping outside the stone building, blinking against the bright light of the rising sun. The stone paths of Cold Rocks Hold were already busy with Aiel moving with purpose, their steps light and sure despite the hard terrain. There was something grounding in their rhythm—steady, like the desert wind. She wandered toward the fire pit where a few of the Hold’s women were preparing breakfast. One of them—a wiry woman with graying hair and sharp eyes—glanced up and nodded at her.

"Morning,” Elyndria said, her voice polite.

The woman gave a small nod back. “You’ll find the food near the stones. There’s tea, too.”

“Thank you.”

Elyndria followed the direction indicated, collecting a small bowl of thick porridge sweetened with dried fruit and a steaming cup of tea. She sat on a low, flat stone near the edge of the fire circle, watching the rising sun warm the hold’s red-tinged walls. The heat was already building in the air, dry and intense, but not yet oppressive.

As she sipped her tea, footsteps crunched softly in the dirt beside her. She looked up to see Egwene approaching, her face curious but open.

“Morning,” Egwene said, sitting beside her without waiting for an invitation.

Elyndria smiled faintly. “Morning.”

“You were with the Wise Ones yesterday.”

“I was,” Elyndria said, not offering more.

Egwene looked at her sidelong. “Are you alright?”

Elyndria stirred the porridge absently. “I will be. They offered help… with the dreams. Lan told them.”

Egwene nodded slowly, gaze distant. “They help me too. Though sometimes I think they enjoy being cryptic more than they enjoy being helpful.”

That made Elyndria laugh softly. “They certainly know how to say much without saying anything at all.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the only sounds the bubbling of the cooking pot and the occasional call from deeper in the Hold. Children’s laughter drifted from somewhere near the wells, high and bright.

 

 

The air within Cold Rocks Hold had settled into the steady rhythm of morning. The hum of conversation echoed gently off stone walls, and the warmth of the sun crept across the sandy stone paths. Elyndria wandered slowly beside Egwene, the two of them letting their feet guide them without urgency. There was something comforting about the pace of life here, as though the Aiel wove their routines through the dust and sun like threads in a tapestry older than memory.

Egwene pointed out different parts of the Hold that the Aiel had showed them the day before—storerooms, weaving chambers, shaded sitting areas where women gathered to grind herbs or repair clothing. Elyndria listened with a soft smile, letting herself be absorbed in the calm of it all. For once there was no lurking danger of prophecy or madness. Just the warmth of the sun, the scent of fresh bread wafting from a low oven, and Egwene’s steady presence.

But as they passed beneath a narrow archway, they were met by Melaine’s sharp eyes and a quiet nod.

“They're calling me,” Egwene said, her mouth pulling into a small frown. “The Wise Ones.”

Elyndria offered her a sympathetic smile. “Try not to get a headache.”

Egwene snorted softly. “No promises.”

She touched Elyndria’s arm gently before turning away, leaving her standing near a courtyard ringed with low sandstone walls and flowering vines. For a breath, Elyndria let the quiet settle. The stillness was pleasant, rare. She was just considering finding something else to do when a sudden burst of laughter erupted nearby.

A small group of Aiel children, ranging from lanky adolescents to wide-eyed toddlers, had spotted her. Their eyes lit with excitement and curiosity, and within seconds they were surrounding her like a whirlwind of limbs and voices.

"You're her!" a little boy said, pointing an accusatory finger up at her with wide, curious eyes. "You're the one that came with the Car’a’carn!"

“Why is your hair so pale?” another girl chimed in, tugging gently at the hem of Elyndria’s tunic for attention. “And long! And you don’t even braid it or tie it up!”

“Yes,” a slightly older boy said, crossing his arms seriously. “Everyone says only children and wetlanders wear their hair long and loose. Don’t you know it gets in the way when you fight?”

Elyndria laughed, holding up her hands as the questions came faster and faster.

“Please, please!” she said, her voice warm with amusement. “One at a time, little warriors.”

The children hushed themselves with impressive speed, eyes round and expectant. Elyndria reached back and grasped a thick strand of her blonde-pale hair, which had tumbled freely down her back since she'd woken that morning. “My hair is pale because I was born with it,” she said, thinking briefly—perhaps someone in her family once had the same color, though she would never know. “And it’s long and loose because I just woke up. I haven’t had time to tie it up yet.”

The children seemed to accept this explanation with a collective “Ohhh,” heads nodding in near-perfect unison.

A boy with mischievous eyes and a sandy braid darted forward, grinning. “You should come play with us!”

“Yes!” another girl cheered, bouncing on her heels. “We want to see if a wetlander can keep up.”

Elyndria arched an eyebrow, smiling in mock offense. “Is that a challenge?” The children puffed up like little proud hawks, chests lifted and eyes gleaming. “I suppose,” Elyndria said slowly, stepping away from the wall and crouching a bit, “I can test my skills against such fearsome warriors.”

A young girl with bright copper hair darted forward before Elyndria could say anything else, touching her arm and shrieking, “You’re it!”, before spinning on her heel and sprinting off.

The rest of the children exploded into delighted laughter, scattering like desert birds.

Elyndria blinked, startled—then laughed, heart lifting. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” she called, breaking into a run. “You better be fast!”

The courtyard rang with the sound of giggles and running feet, and for a little while, all the weight of prophecy, dreams, and war melted away beneath the sun. Elyndria darted around a stone column, her feet light on the hard-packed earth, hair streaming like silver thread behind her. She lunged, tagging a giggling boy who squealed and bolted the opposite way. Her laughter mingled with the children’s as the game of chase swirled and shifted through the courtyard.

She turned a corner and nearly collided with two girls who shrieked and split apart like startled birds, their braids whipping behind them. Elyndria paused for a breath, chest heaving slightly, a wide grin on her flushed face. She hadn’t run like this in what felt like years—no fear, no purpose beyond play. Just sun-warmed stones underfoot, the sound of laughter, and the delighted glint in every child’s eye.

Then, as she slowed and turned, a strange warmth fluttered in her chest—an awareness. She glanced up instinctively and spotted him.

Rand stood just beyond the edge of the courtyard, half in the shade of a sandstone pillar. His arms were crossed, but loosely, comfortably. His golden-red hair caught the sun and stirred in the wind, and his face—Light, his face.

He was smiling.

Not a guarded one, not the weary half-curved thing he gave out when duty weighed on him. No, this was wide and open, his eyes bright with wonder and laughter held barely in check. He looked younger, freer—like the boy he never truly got to be. Joy danced in his gaze as he watched Elyndria and the children tumble and race like desert winds. Elyndria’s heart skipped. She opened her mouth, raising a hand slightly to wave him over, but before she could speak—

“Car’a’carn!” a boy shouted gleefully.

Rand blinked, confused, just as the boy raced toward him at full speed and smacked his back with both hands. “You’re it!”

Rand stumbled forward a step, utterly taken off guard. “What—?”

The boy didn’t stop to explain, already sprinting back into the fray, laughter echoing behind him.

There was a heartbeat of stunned silence.

Then Rand threw back his head and laughed. It was a full, unguarded sound, ringing out like music through the courtyard. He looked at Elyndria, still breathless with laughter, and shrugged. “I suppose I’m it.”

“You are,” Elyndria called back, eyes gleaming.

Rand grinned and took off at a run, chasing after the whooping, scattering children, his long strides surprisingly nimble for someone so tall. The Aiel children screamed with delight as the Dragon Reborn himself barreled after them, arms outstretched, laughter still bursting from his chest. Elyndria stood at the edge of it for a moment, watching him with a quiet, blooming warmth in her heart. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so alive.

Not the Dragon Reborn, not the Car’a’carn.

Just Rand. Just hers.

Then one of the girls ran past and tugged at Elyndria’s sleeve. “You’re not out! Come on, help us trick him!”

Grinning, Elyndria dove back in.

---

 

The sun had just begun to tilt westward, painting the sky in shades of amber and rust, when Elyndria stepped further from Cold Rocks Hold. The cliffs loomed behind her, quiet and watchful, but she needed space—space to move, to breathe, to try. The wind tugged gently at her hair as she set her stance on the open rock. Saidar came easily, sliding over her skin like silk as she embraced it. Her hands moved instinctively, shaping threads of Air and Illusion, not with sharp intent but with playful exploration. Gold and white strands of light twisted outward from her fingers, swirling into soft, shifting forms.

At first, they were nothing more than sparks, flares of memory—an echo of a dancing flame, the shimmer of leaves. But then she began to move her body as if she were in a fight—dodging, weaving, lunging—and the light moved with her. Trails of brilliance followed her arm, illusions flaring like bursts of sunlight as she spun and struck at invisible enemies.

She grinned faintly, breath quickening, until she felt it.

A gaze.

Elyndria stilled, her eyes narrowing, pulse ticking just beneath her skin.

Then a familiar voice called out, dry and amused. “Are you fighting the wind, or are you hoping it will surrender out of confusion?”

Aviendha approached from the rocks, her arms crossed but her eyes keen. She tossed a pair of spears to the ground with a clatter and raised a brow. “Another match, wetlander?” she asked, a grin tugging at her mouth. “Or are you too busy dancing with light?”

Elyndria huffed, brushing sweat from her brow. “I was training,” she said, trying to sound serious, but the twitch in her lips betrayed her.

Aviendha stepped closer, pulling one of the spears from the ground and giving it a twirl. “If you are training, then so am I. Perhaps we can learn together.”

Elyndria tilted her head, curious. “You’ve been practicing with the Power during combat?”

“I tried to burn a tree once,” Aviendha said dryly. “It refused to die. But I hit it with lightning the next time, and it learned its lesson.”

They both laughed.

Elyndria picked up her spear and turned to face her, the wind curling around them. “Fine. But no actual lightning.”

“Only if you ask nicely.” Aviendha smiled—and then struck.

Their spears clashed with a satisfying crack, boots shifting against stone. Elyndria moved with instinct, channeling small threads of Air to nudge Aviendha’s balance—not enough to knock her over, but enough to make her shift a half-step wider, just long enough for Elyndria to press in with a quick jab of her spear.

Aviendha countered easily, twisting away with a grin. “Tricky.”

“Creative,” Elyndria shot back, ducking low beneath a sweeping strike. She wove a sliver of light behind Aviendha—an illusion of movement, a flicker of herself lunging in from the side. Aviendha’s eyes snapped toward it for a fraction of a second. “Ha!” Elyndria laughed, sliding around and tapping her shoulder with the butt of her spear. “You blinked.”

Aviendha narrowed her eyes, but her grin didn’t fade. “You are becoming dangerous, wetlander.”

They circled again, breathing heavy but exhilarated, and now both wove as they moved. Aviendha summoned a sharp gust of wind, stirring up a burst of dust and sand. Elyndria twisted her own weave into a flare of golden light, masking her real position for half a heartbeat. Their sparring was no longer just physical—it danced between spear and saidar, between instinct and strategy. Elyndria felt her weaves becoming more fluid, more expressive. Trails of gold and white followed her movements like ribbons, flickering behind her like the train of some luminous dress. One of her illusions shimmered into the shape of a Saerel, just for a heartbeat— wearing the training clothes she wore when she was teaching Elyndria hand-to-hand combat at the White Tower.

It startled her.

She faltered for a moment, her foot catching on a stone, her breath catching even harder. The image had not been intended. It had come on its own, pulled from her like a memory finding shape in light.

Aviendha paused mid-strike, brow raised. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Elyndria said quickly, though her heart was still racing for a different reason now.

Aviendha stepped back, lowering her spear slightly. “That wasn’t just a trick. You weren’t trying to distract me.”

“No.” Elyndria turned her face to the wind, lips parted. “It… it just happened.”

This weaving had always felt expressive, but now it was beginning to respond to more than movement or thought. It was beginning to respond more to feeling—to memory, to emotion. It wasn’t like creating a mask or an invisibility shroud. This was something else. Something more intimate. Spiritual, maybe.

“Are you afraid of it?” Aviendha asked, quieter now, eyes sharp.

Elyndria looked down at her hand, still glowing faintly with threads of light, and slowly shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “It’s like… the Power is listening. Not just to what I want, but to what I feel. And it’s answering me with pictures.”

Aviendha studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Then you should keep using it. Learn what it can do. Use your blades. Use your light. If it helps you win a fight—or survive one—what else matters?”

Elyndria looked up at her, eyes bright with something new. Not just the thrill of sparring, not just the rush of saidar. Hope. Confidence. She grinned again and lifted her spear, falling back into stance. “Another round?”

Aviendha mirrored her, the sun catching on her hair like fire. “Try not to blind me this time, wetlander.”

And they clashed again—spear and light, force and illusion, weaving a battle all their own.

---

The sun had dipped low over the horizon, staining the sky in gold and rose before giving way to a cooling twilight. Shadows danced long across the courtyard of Cold Rocks Hold, cast by the flickering flames of many small fires scattered throughout the settlement. Around one such fire, laughter echoed and voices carried in the dry night air—warm and alive.

Elyndria sat with her knees drawn up beside a fire shared with Rand, Moiraine, and Lan. Egwene was still training with the Wise Ones in their holdings. The scent of roasted roots and herbs mingled with the crackle of firewood. A group of Aiel women nearby chatted animatedly, hands moving expressively, while men exchanged stories with booming laughter and sharp grins. Children darted around them like small, tireless shadows, chasing one another and shrieking in glee. Elyndria leaned her head back slightly, watching as a mother gently braided her young daughter’s hair, the strands catching the firelight like threads of copper. There was tenderness in the motion, a quiet rhythm that made her chest ache in the best way. A sense of...rightness settled in her bones.

She turned back to the others, smiling softly. “It’s nice being here,” she said, her voice low but content. “I didn’t think they would be like this. The Aiel, I mean.”

A rustle of cloth and footsteps signaled Aviendha’s arrival. She dropped down beside them with a sly, knowing smile curling her lips. “What—did you expect us to be out here all day, bloodied and scowling, blades always in hand?”

Elyndria let out a sheepish chuckle. “Somewhat...yes. I suppose I did.”

Aviendha laughed, her eyes scanning the scene as children dashed past, shrieking with joy. “We may be warriors,” she said, “nearly all of us, in some way or another. But that is not all we are.”

She reached for a piece of flatbread from a shared dish and tore it in half, offering a piece to Elyndria before continuing. “Our feelings are strong. Our pride, our stubbornness, our fire—they run deep. But so does our love. The Taardad, we love fiercely. Our family, our friends, even our enemies in the ways the ji’e’toh demands. Everything we do, we do with spirit.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, touched by the unexpected tenderness in Aviendha’s words. Around them, a woman leaned back, her laughter bursting like bells as her partner gently teased her. Two boys tried to lift a much-too-heavy water jug together, grunting and slipping, then falling into a pile of giggles.

Rand reached out and gently brushed his fingers against Elyndria’s hand. When she glanced at him, his expression was calm—open. The firelight played along the line of his cheek and caught in his lashes. He looked at peace here. The fire popped softly, sending a swirl of sparks into the night sky. A lull had settled into the conversation, everyone basking in the comfort of the evening. The laughter of the children was beginning to die down as exhaustion slowly took hold, some of them curling up beside mothers or older siblings. Elyndria sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, watching them with a quiet smile, until Moiraine’s voice cut gently through the calm.

“You seem content here,” the Blue Aes Sedai observed, her blue eyes resting on Elyndria. “I saw you and Rand playing with the children earlier.”

Her tone wasn’t quite disapproving, but there was a sharp edge of caution woven into it—curious and distant, like someone watching a ripple across still water and wondering what lies beneath.

Before Elyndria could answer, Aviendha spoke, her voice clear and proud. “It is good. To see them interacting with the children in such a way. The Taardad will view the Car’a’carn—and his lover—in a positive light.”

The fire seemed to crack louder at that moment, or perhaps it was Elyndria’s heart, thudding at the word lover. Heat flushed across her cheeks, and she looked down quickly, pretending to stir the sand with her toe.

Moiraine hummed softly, arching one elegant brow as she turned back toward the fire. “Just because they play childish games?”

Aviendha turned her head, lips pressing together tightly for a heartbeat. “Not childish,” she replied. “Important. The children of the Taardad saw Rand as more than a name whispered in awe. They saw him as a man. A friend. They saw you,” she added, glancing at Elyndria, “as someone who would not scorn them, or their ways. This matters. They are joining them. Rand must not be a stranger when the other clans arrive. If they do not understand his heart, they will never follow him.”

Moiraine didn’t reply immediately. She turned to gaze into the fire, eyes half-lidded and pensive. Then she gave a small nod, more to herself than to anyone else. “Perhaps,” she murmured. “How much longer until the other clans arrive?” Moiraine asked after a long pause, her tone practical once more.

Aviendha shrugged, scooping a small handful of sand and letting it sift through her fingers. “A week, maybe. The Waste is wide, and the journey is long, even for Aiel feet. But it will give me time to teach Rand more of the Aiel ways. He must understand ji’e’toh. He must know our stories, our bloodlines, our customs. If he is to unite us, he cannot stand apart.”

Elyndria listened in silence, her heart heavy but not unhappy. The night pressed cool against her back, the warmth of the fire against her face. She glanced at Rand beside her, watching the flames in thoughtful quiet.

He had come so far already, she thought. And there was still so far to go.

The crackle of the fire was still warm behind her when a tall Aiel woman stepped from the shadows near the edge of the gathering. Her face was calm, but her pale eyes fixed on Elyndria with a directness that needed no explanation.

“The Wise Ones request your presence,” she said simply, with a slight tilt of her head in respect.

Elyndria rose smoothly from her seat beside the fire, brushing sand from her skirts as she nodded. “Of course.”

She glanced once more at the others—Rand now leaning back with his hands behind him, listening to Aviendha recount something animatedly, Moiraine quiet as always, and Lan ever watchful—and then turned away from the warmth of the circle, following the path deeper into the Hold.

As she approached the low entrance to the Wise Ones’ holdings, a figure stepped out quickly and nearly collided with her.

“Egwene,” Elyndria breathed, catching the other woman’s arms gently to steady her.

Egwene’s rich brown skin looked dull, a sheen of sweat at her temples despite the cool night air. Her eyes were wide, unfocused for a heartbeat before she blinked rapidly and found Elyndria’s face.

“I—I’m fine,” Egwene said too quickly. “Just... training. It went a little far today, that’s all. I think I need rest.”

Elyndria frowned, concern knotting between her brows. “Are you sure? You look—”

“I’m sure,” Egwene cut in, forcing a tight smile onto her lips. “Just tired. I’ll go lie down for a bit.”

Elyndria studied her for a moment longer. Something about the way Egwene spoke didn’t sit right. There was something brittle in her tone, something barely held together behind those dark eyes. But if she was holding something back, Elyndria wouldn’t press. Not here. Not now.

“Alright,” she said gently. “Go rest, if you need it. The others are still by the fire if you change your mind. They’d be glad for your company.”

Egwene nodded stiffly. “Thank you,” she murmured, then turned and walked away, her pace quick, almost hurried.

Elyndria watched her go, the worry lingering like a stone in her chest. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. But she turned toward the Wise Ones’ building, inhaling softly as she stepped forward and lifted the flap.

The room was warm and still, the soft scent of herbs curling in the air as Elyndria stepped barefoot onto the woven rug inside the Wise Ones' private space. Melaine and Bair were already seated in a half-circle, their eyes calm, their presence commanding. Their faces were unreadable but not unkind.

“You’ve come,” Bair said simply, inclining her head.

“Lie down,” Melaine added, gesturing toward the woven mat placed directly before them.

Elyndria obeyed without question, lowering herself slowly and stretching onto her back, her arms resting at her sides, palms up. She stared at the ceiling of the room, heart quietly thudding, her breath shallow with expectation.

“You are to be guided into a dream,” Bair explained, voice low and steady. “We do not know what you will see, only that it may help us understand. The world of dreams—Tel’aran’rhiod—is ever-shifting, never fixed. The dream chooses its shape, not you.”

“Do not try to control it,” Melaine spoke firmly. “Observe. Feel. Return.”

Elyndria nodded faintly, her eyes slipping closed. She focused on her breathing, slowing it until the rise and fall of her chest matched the soft rhythm of the Wise Ones’ chant—soft words in the Old Tongue that echoed like the pulse of the world beneath her.

A heartbeat.

 

And another.

 

And then—

 

Silence.

 

When Elyndria opened her eyes again, the Wise Ones were gone. The firelight was gone. Even the warmth of the room was no more.

She was standing now, though she hadn’t risen. Her breath caught slightly as she looked around, brow furrowed with confusion. The room was small, dimly lit by a single flickering candle near the wall. Wooden toys littered the floor—dolls with hand-sewn dresses, carved horses, and a wooden puzzle with pieces scattered carelessly. In the corner sat a small bed with blankets crumpled at the foot.

Children’s toys. A child’s bed.

She turned slowly, drawn by the sound of muffled voices and a faint, wet coughing that echoed just beyond the cracked-open door. Elyndria stepped out of the room, her bare feet making no sound on the cold stone floor. The hallway outside was narrow and dim, lit only by sputtering candles set in iron sconces along the walls. Shadows danced over the stone, long and twisting.

She paused at the corner, peeking carefully around it.

A room lay ahead—larger, warmer somehow, but heavy with tension. Two women were inside. One sat upright in a bed, though barely—her skin pale, almost grey, a sheen of sweat clinging to her brow. Her light brown hair was damp and stuck to her temples. She was muttering feverishly.

“No... please... Lyliana... not her...”

The other woman was older, wrapped in a heavy shawl. She dipped a cloth into a basin of water and patted the sick woman’s forehead with quiet, practiced care. “Shhh, she’s fine, Amara,” the elder woman whispered gently. “She’s sleeping. You must rest now. Focus on getting better.”

“Safe…” Amara moaned, her voice raw and broken. “She needs to be safe…”

Elyndria took a slow step forward, her breath catching. Something about this felt so familiar. The name Lyliana lingered in her chest like the echo of something once held dear, now lost.

But before she could reach the bedside—before she could ask, or even breathe another word—the dream began to dissolve. The women blurred, their forms turning to mist, and the hallway began to fade into swirling, grey fog. Elyndria blinked—and she was no longer dreaming.

She gasped softly, the air of the Wise Ones’ room flooding her lungs as her eyes flew open. Her heart was racing. The ceiling of the room loomed above her, and the two Wise Ones were seated just as she had left them—watching her quietly, intently.

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly. “I saw…” she whispered, voice hoarse. “A child’s room. And a woman—Amara. She was ill. She kept saying… Lyliana.”

Bair’s eyes narrowed faintly, exchanging a look with Melaine.

“And you did not know them?” Melaine asked.

Elyndria shook her head. “No. But it felt… familiar.”

She wasn’t sure how to explain the ache in her chest. The lingering sorrow.

“Do you remember anything else?” Melaine asked quietly.

Elyndria hesitated, then shook her head again. “No… only the name. And the feeling that… I was meant to see it.” Elyndria shifted slightly as she slowly sat up, the heat from the fire outside the Wise Ones' room still lingering in the air. Her head was spinning from the dream, the vividness of it, the name Lyliana, the eerie sense of déjà vu. The foggy images of Amara’s feverish face still clung to her mind, unshakable. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her thoughts. "How long was I asleep?" she asked, her voice still hoarse from the disorienting experience.

"Two hours," Melaine replied simply, her expression calm, but her dark eyes sharp with the understanding of the Dreaming’s pull.

Elyndria blinked in surprise. Two hours? It had felt like mere moments. The images of the dream had seemed to flow so quickly, so fluidly.

"It only felt like minutes," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Melaine gave a soft, knowing hum. "The world of dreams makes everything confusing. A minute to you can be hours in the real world. It is just one of the reasons why it is so dangerous to enter it without training or guidance."

Elyndria nodded, understanding the warning. But still, there was a deep, aching frustration within her. She had hoped that by speaking to the Wise Ones, she could gain some understanding of how to control her dreams—how to control the memories that haunted her and weighed on her every night. The restlessness was taking a toll on her. Her gaze flickered to Bair, who was watching her with a soft, yet somber expression. Elyndria’s heart twisted as she met the older woman's eyes. "It wasn't Ilyena's memories," Elyndria said quietly, the words hanging in the air like an admission of guilt. "I wanted... I needed to learn how to control them." She let out a frustrated sigh. "I thought... maybe this could help me." Her hands tightened into fists on her lap, betraying the inner turmoil.

Bair sighed, her breath slow and heavy as she leaned forward. "Dreams cannot be controlled like that so easily," she said gently, the tone one of quiet understanding. "It may take days or even weeks to understand and manipulate the memories so they are no longer a dark shadow on your mind. You must wait for the moment the Dreaming world lets you enter them. That is when true control can be gained."

Elyndria felt her shoulders slump at Bair's words. The weight of it settled over her like a cold fog. She had hoped for more—an answer, a solution, something tangible to hold onto. But this, this uncertainty, was all that was given to her. She swallowed hard, trying to blink away the sense of defeat that clung to her. She nodded, though, biting her lip to keep her emotions in check. "I understand," she said softly, though she didn't feel as if she fully did. But there was little else to say. "Thank you."

Bair gave her a knowing look, but Melaine spoke up, her voice firm yet filled with empathy. "You should rest. Entering the Dreaming world can be exhausting, even for those trained to do so."

Elyndria hesitated for a moment, the weight of the dream lingering in her chest like a heavy stone. The idea of rest seemed distant, as if it would be impossible to escape the vivid memories of her dream. But she knew that Melaine was right. She couldn’t stay here forever. The world of dreams was demanding, and she could feel the fatigue already setting into her body.

"Yes," she replied softly, standing slowly, her legs unsteady as though the Dreaming still had its hold on her. "I should get back to my holdings."

Melaine tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment. "Rest well, Elyndria. Remember that the Dreaming will not always give you answers when you seek them, but the answers will come in time."

With a final nod to the Wise Ones, Elyndria turned and left the building, her footsteps slow and measured as she stepped back into the warm night. The air was crisp against her skin, grounding her, reminding her of the real world. As she made her way back to her building, her thoughts were a jumble of emotions—exhaustion, frustration, but also a quiet determination. She didn't know when or how, but she would find a way to gain control of these dreams. She had to. For Rand. For herself.

The night was far from over, but she hoped the rest would offer some reprieve, even if only for a little while. As Elyndria walked through the darkened pathway, her mind was a swirl of thoughts. The night air was cool against her skin, the rhythmic sound of her footsteps on the earth grounding her, but the weight of the dreams and her conversation with the Wise Ones still pressed heavily on her. She could feel the echoes of the Dreaming world tugging at her, an unsettling reminder that the line between that world and the waking one was thin and fragile.

I need to understand them, she thought to herself, her eyes fixed on the path ahead, though her mind kept wandering back to the faces from her dream. Amara’s feverish murmurs, the desperate plea for Lyliana’s safety—who were they? What did they mean? And why had they appeared now, at this moment in her life? Could they be Ilyena's memories, or something else entirely?

The deeper question, the one that troubled her more than anything, was whether or not she would ever find peace from Ilyena’s memories. Every night they came, dragging her into the past, into memories she couldn’t control. And every morning, she woke, exhausted, the shadows of those dreams still clinging to her like a veil.

Her heart tightened, and she sucked in a shaky breath. The Wise Ones had said it could take days or weeks to understand and manipulate the memories, to find control over them. But what if that time never came? What if she remained lost in a fog of dreams, chasing answers that slipped away each time she reached for them?

As she neared the entrance to the stone building, the warm glow of the lanterns inside flickered through the fabric. She could hear the quiet murmurs of voices—Rand’s, no doubt, though she couldn’t quite make out the words. A small part of her yearned for the comfort of his presence, for the peace she felt when they were together. But even that comfort couldn’t ease the lingering uncertainty within her. She didn’t want to burden him with her troubles, her dreams.

He’s already carrying so much, she thought. The weight of being the Dragon Reborn, the future of the world… he doesn’t need to carry mine as well.

But her heart ached at the thought. She wanted to tell him everything, to share the fear and confusion that twisted in her chest. She wanted him to understand the torment of the dreams, the sense of being pulled between two worlds, neither of which felt fully hers.

She reached the entrance to the building, her fingers brushing against the fabric. Her hand paused there, fingers resting lightly on the cool cloth as she thought about him—about Rand.

I wish I could make sense of it all, she thought. For him, for me… For us.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She could feel the warmth from within, and for a moment, the fear, the uncertainty, seemed to fade slightly. This was where she belonged, by his side. Even if she didn’t have all the answers, even if she didn’t know how to control her dreams, she had him. And that was enough for now. With a quiet exhale, she pushed the flap aside and stepped inside, the familiar scent of their shared space greeting her. Rand was sitting on a low mat, his back slightly turned as he looked over a map, his brow furrowed in concentration. His presence was a balm to her restless soul, a quiet strength she could always rely on.

When he heard her enter, he looked up, his eyes softening as they met hers. His lips curled into a small, understanding smile. "Elyndria," he said, his voice a soothing low murmur. "How are you?"

The question, simple as it was, felt like a lifeline. Her chest tightened again, but she forced a smile, stepping closer to him. "I’m okay," she said, her voice steady, though there was a hint of vulnerability beneath the words. "Just... tired. It’s been a long day."

Rand raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her. Instead, he gestured to the space beside him. "Come here," he said softly. "Rest with me."

Elyndria hesitated for just a moment, then smiled faintly, nodding. She slid down next to him, her body naturally leaning into his warmth. He didn’t ask about the Wise Ones, about what had happened, or what she had learned—he simply pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

For a moment, there was silence between them, the sounds of the night outside the room softly filtering in. But within this small space, with Rand beside her, the weight of the world seemed just a little lighter. The quiet comfort of his presence settled over her like a blanket, and for the first time in what felt like days, she allowed herself to relax.

"You don’t have to tell me everything," Rand murmured into her hair, his breath warm against her skin. "But if you need to... I’m here."

Elyndria closed her eyes, leaning into his embrace. "I know," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I know."

Elyndria shifted slightly, snuggling closer to Rand as he held her, his warmth and strength a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed so much. She sighed softly, her head resting on his shoulder, the familiar rhythm of his breathing grounding her as they lay in the quiet stillness of the night.

“The Wise One’s guided me into a dream. There was two woman, one of their names were Amara. She was sick and was talking about another girl. Lyliana. Do you think they could be important?” Elyndria’s voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke again, her mind still swirling with the remnants of the dream and the strange sensation it left behind. “The dream felt... different, Rand. It didn’t feel like Ilyena’s memories. But there was something about it. Something that lingers.”

Rand’s fingers gently brushed her hair back, the motion tender as he listened. “Maybe,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “It sounds like you’re trying to piece together parts of something larger, something that’s not entirely clear yet. And that can be frustrating, I know. But the fact that it feels different... maybe that’s a clue, too. It’s not all answers right away. It’s about understanding the pieces. And you will.”

Elyndria closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. I hope so, she thought. I hope I can find some clarity soon. This uncertainty... it feels endless. “It’s just...” She trailed off, feeling the weight of the past few days pressing down on her chest. “It feels like I’m chasing after something that keeps slipping away. And every time I think I have it, it turns into something new—something else I don’t understand.”

Rand exhaled, his hand moving to rest on her back, pulling her closer. “You don’t have to understand it all right away, Elyndria. Sometimes, you just have to let it come to you. Slowly. Piece by piece. Just... don’t carry it all on your own. You’re not alone in this.”

Elyndria nodded, feeling the comfort of his words, though the uncertainty still gnawed at her. She wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take—the constant weight of the unknown, the constant tug of those dreams. But when Rand spoke again, it was with the quiet certainty that always grounded her, the strength in his voice giving her something to lean on.

“And don’t forget,” Rand added softly, “you’ve already done so much, Elyndria. You’re stronger than you realize. I see it every day. You’re not just surviving, you’re living through this. And that’s more than I could ever ask for.”

His words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to simply be in that moment, with him.  A small smile tugged at her lips, and she lifted her head slightly to look at him. “And I’ll get through it,” she said quietly, though it felt like a promise she was making not just to him, but to herself. “I will. With you. And the others.”

Rand smiled back, his eyes softening as he met her gaze. “Always.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the world outside the room fading into the background. The comfort of their connection was all that mattered right now. Elyndria felt a flicker of something deep within her—a quiet, steady resolve that she could face whatever came next. I will find the answers, she thought, one step at a time.

The silence between them was warm, comforting, until Rand broke it again, his voice full of affection. “You know,” he said with a teasing lilt, “it’s nice to see you smile like that. You looked like you had a little bit of freedom today. Playing with the children... I haven’t seen that kind of joy in you in a while. I felt it, you know, in the bond. That joyfulness.”

Elyndria’s smile softened, her heart lightening at the thought of the children. “It was... nice,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect it to feel so freeing. It was just a simple game, but for a moment, it felt like I could forget everything else.”

“I can tell,” Rand said with a warm smile. “I’ve missed seeing that smile, Elyndria. The real one, the one that lights up your whole face. You deserve more moments like that.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his words, and for a moment, she felt something stirring deep inside her—a quiet hope, fragile yet strong. She had so many questions, so much uncertainty. But with Rand by her side, she could face whatever came next. For him. For us. “I hope,” Elyndria said softly, “wherever they are... the others are safe. I hope they’re finding what they need, too. Nynaeve, Mat, Perrin, Elayne... all of them. I think about them, sometimes, and I wonder if they’re okay.”

Rand’s expression softened, and he gave her a gentle squeeze. “I think about them too,” he said quietly. “I hope they’re all finding their way. But no matter where they are, we’re here. And that’s what matters right now.”

Elyndria nodded, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. “Yeah,” she whispered, “that’s what matters.”

Elyndria sat in the quiet comfort of Rand’s presence, her head still resting against his shoulder. The warmth between them settled like a blanket, soft and familiar—but something tugged at her thoughts. A flicker of nervous energy. A question, fragile and forming on her tongue.

She hesitated, then lifted her head slightly, voice barely more than a murmur. “Would you like to see them?”

Rand blinked, turning to look at her, brows drawing in slightly. “See who?”

She shifted her weight and sat up straighter, brushing her hands over her clothes. “Mat. Perrin. Elayne. Nynaeve. The others.”

He frowned gently, puzzled. “What do you mean? They're not—” His voice softened. “You said you think about them. I do too, but... you can’t just see them. Their far away”

Elyndria’s fingers curled slightly, then relaxed. “I know,” she said. “It’s just... something strange happened while you were in Rhuidean. I was waiting—by myself—and I started practicing with saidar. Just weaving a little, nothing dangerous. Mostly air and light. Trying to keep my hands busy.” Her gaze flicked to him, uncertain. “But something changed. The weaves didn’t behave the way I expected. They... shifted. Melted into each other.” Rand watched her quietly, listening. “I was just thinking of a memory, and somehow, I wove it. I saw the Foregate. Clear as day. The river, the old tree we used to lay under. And I don’t know how I did it, Rand. It just... came. Like it wanted to be seen.”

His brows lifted, the disbelief on his face tempered by something else—wonder.

She smiled faintly, a little nervous. “It felt warm. Safe. Like I was holding something good in my hands, and all I had to do was let it shine.” Elyndria looked down at her hands, then inhaled slowly and let saidar wash over her. It came easily, a soft tide she never had to chase. She wove carefully, gently—threads of Spirit, Air, and Illusion, laced with the golden threads of light she now knew as her own. Slowly, just above the bed at the center of the tent, the air shimmered.

And then—figures began to form.

First Mat, leaning back in a chair, legs kicked up, a familiar grin stretched wide across his face. He tipped an imaginary hat, a glint of mischief in his eye. Then Perrin beside him, arms folded and quiet, golden eyes focused and steady. Elayne appeared next, brushing windswept hair from her cheek, her posture proud even in stillness. And finally Nynaeve, mid-scold, her braid snapping behind her as if caught in a sudden wind.

The figures flickered softly in the air, not solid, but vibrant. Painted in light and memory.

Rand stared, speechless.

Elyndria glanced sideways at him, her voice quiet. “I don’t know how long it lasts. They’re not really there... just echoes. My memories of them. But... I thought you might like to see them. Even just for a moment.”

Rand’s throat worked as he swallowed, eyes fixed on the glowing images above. “Light, Elyndria...” His voice was rough. “It’s like they’re here.”

She smiled, small and tender. “They’ve always been here, haven’t they? With us. Even if we can’t reach them right now.”

He looked at her then, and in his eyes was something raw and grateful—something she’d seen only a few times before. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

And for a moment, the flickering images seemed to glow a little brighter. In that moment, despite everything weighing heavily on her heart, she felt something like peace. She didn’t have all the answers. The dreams, the memories, her newfound ability, the uncertainty—those things were still with her, still waiting to be understood. But as they watched the flickering images of her memory above them the heavy feeling of worry, stress and duty, seemed to lighten on her chest making it easier for her to breath.

 

Chapter 32: Discovering

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft light across the Aiel Waste as Elyndria and Egwene stood on the outskirts of Cold Rocks Hold, preparing for their morning practice. The sand beneath their feet still held the cool of night, though it wouldn’t last long. The sky above stretched pale and cloudless, a quiet canvas untouched by the heat of day. Elyndria rolled her shoulders back, breathing in the dry air, already feeling the familiar hum of saidar within her.

Egwene stood a few paces away, her expression calm but focused, dark eyes fixed on Elyndria with quiet determination.

“Today we move,” Elyndria said, her tone calm but firm. “No standing still. We weave, we dodge, we strike. Your goal is to land a hit—light, nothing dangerous—but fast and controlled.”

Egwene gave a small nod, tightening her fingers at her sides. “And yours?”

Elyndria smiled faintly. “To make you work for it.”

Without waiting for a reply, Elyndria embraced the Source, and the world brightened. She felt the familiar rush of clarity, the joy and danger of holding saidar. Threads of Air wove around her fingers, light and swift, as she shifted into a defensive stance. She gave Egwene only a heartbeat’s warning before striking—a lash of Air sweeping low across the ground toward her friend’s ankles.

Egwene leapt back, stumbling slightly in the sand but catching herself. Her own weave formed a heartbeat later—less fluid, more forceful. Fire streaked toward Elyndria in a narrow burst, not wild, but lacking refinement.

Elyndria turned, the flame hissing past her shoulder, her own threads already reforming. She answered with a wave of Water, not to strike but to obscure—kicking up a veil of dust that swirled between them like a sudden desert wind.

“Good reaction,” Elyndria called, circling now, her eyes alert. “But don’t throw your weaves like stones. Aim with your mind. Feel the flow.”

Egwene followed her movement, her brow furrowed, lips pressed tight. She moved with more confidence now, trying to anticipate where Elyndria would strike from next.

A thread of Earth snapped up from the sand—a minor tremor meant to throw her off-balance. Elyndria grinned. She hadn’t taught Egwene that one. Quickly, she responded with a barrier of Air and Fire, dispersing the energy with a sizzling snap. Egwene was learning, faster than Elyndria had expected. She still hesitated—but it was hesitation born of care, not fear.

They clashed again—Air against Air, Fire against Water. The ground churned beneath their feet, and the heat of their weaves shimmered in the morning light. Egwene’s breath came quicker, her stance more assured with each passing moment. She dodged one of Elyndria’s lashes of Spirit with an elegant twist and responded with a complex tangle of Fire and Air that nearly grazed Elyndria’s leg.

Elyndria stumbled back, laughing softly, pride swelling in her chest. “Better. That one nearly singed me.”

“I meant it to,” Egwene shot back, her grin half-apology, half-challenge.

They paused for a breath, both of them flushed from effort, their hair damp with sweat. The desert wind stirred around them, catching the ends of their garments. 

“You’re learning how to fight,” Elyndria said softly, lowering her hands but keeping the Source within her. “Not just weave. That was always in you.”

Egwene nodded, chest rising and falling with each breath. “It feels different when you fight with it. Not just... control, or structure. It’s instinct.”

“It is,” Elyndria agreed. “And in battle, instinct might be all that saves you.”

There was a moment of stillness between them, the silence broken only by the faint whisper of wind through the rocks. Egwene looked out over the sands, her expression thoughtful.

“I still don’t like the idea of using the Power to hurt,” she said quietly. “But I understand now why we have to know how.”

Elyndria stepped beside her, their shoulders nearly touching. “That’s why you’ll never lose yourself to it,” she said. “The fact that you care not to hurt—that’s what will keep you grounded.”

Egwene turned to her, a quiet smile on her face. “Thank you.” Egwene’s smile lingered as she bent to brush sand from her skirts, cheeks still flushed. “Next time, I’ll aim for your hair,” she teased, eyeing a loose strand that had escaped Elyndria’s braid. “Might even the playing field.”

Elyndria gave a soft laugh. “You’d regret that. I’d make you practice upside-down with one hand tied behind your back.”

“Don’t tempt me. You’ve probably already figured out how to do that with saidar.”

“I have,” Elyndria said sweetly. “But you’d cry halfway through.”

Egwene narrowed her eyes playfully. “Try me.”

Elyndria arched a brow. “Oh? Feeling brave now?”

“Brave enough to take on a Green,” Egwene said, brushing the last of the sand from her skirt and stepping back onto the makeshift sparring ground. “Besides, if I’m going to fight Forsaken one day, I might as well learn how to annoy one of the Tower’s finest.”

“That’s the spirit,” Elyndria said, a gleam in her eye. “But if you want to test that theory…”

She didn’t finish her sentence. With a flick of her wrist, a lashing whip of Air snapped toward Egwene’s side—controlled, precise, fast. Egwene’s shield came up just in time, her weave flaring bright and crackling against Elyndria’s as she pivoted with surprising grace, her response a sudden burst of Fire shaped like a fan, meant to push Elyndria back.

But Elyndria was already moving, flowing into the next weave, her body dancing with the rhythm of saidar. A burst of Water struck the ground between them, kicking up a swirl of damp sand into the air like a miniature fog. She used the distraction to shift to Egwene’s right, flanking her.

“You’ve improved,” Elyndria said through the haze, voice calm. “But your instincts still hesitate. You think too much.”

“Because I’m trying not to burn off your eyebrows!” Egwene called out, weaving blindly into the fog—thin tendrils of Spirit designed to snare and bind, reaching like fingers through the dust.

Elyndria smiled and severed the threads before they reached her, then answered with a fine net of Air meant to wrap around Egwene’s ankles. Egwene, sensing the movement, leapt upward with a surprising burst of strength, throwing out a weave of Earth to crack the ground beneath Elyndria’s feet.

It wasn’t enough to knock her off balance, but it was clever.

“Now you’re thinking like a Green,” Elyndria said, landing in a low stance and throwing out a rapid-fire mix of weaves—Air to bind, Fire to threaten, and a shimmer of Illusion just to test Egwene’s awareness.

Egwene countered quickly, if a bit sloppily. Her Fire fizzled in the wind, but her Air caught one of Elyndria’s sleeves and yanked hard, pulling her slightly off her center.

“Got you,” Egwene said triumphantly.

Elyndria smirked. “Almost.”

With a practiced breath, she spun into a tighter defensive weave, her spear—summoned from a thread of Air and hardened Water—appearing in her hand in a flash. It wasn’t real enough to wound, but real enough to sting. She lunged—not to strike, but to press Egwene back, keeping her moving.

Egwene darted sideways, giggling breathlessly. “Do you really need to be good with weapons too!”

“Battle Ajah,” Elyndria reminded her with a wink. “We come prepared.”

Sweat slicked their brows now, the sun rising high enough to bake the sand beneath them. The fight continued in bursts—brief flurries of weaves, then laughter, then silence as they refocused. Egwene was learning. She still favored raw power over finesse, but her timing was sharper, her confidence steadier. And she had something Elyndria deeply respected: restraint. Finally, they broke apart, breathing heavily, letting the last weaves unravel gently into the morning wind.

Egwene collapsed backward into the sand with a dramatic sigh. “I yield. I lasted longer than I thought I would.”

Elyndria lowered her spear-weave and let it dissolve into mist. She dropped beside Egwene, brushing sand from her palms. “You did. And you pushed me.” She gave Egwene a sidelong smile. “Tomorrow, you’ll land a hit.”

Egwene turned her face toward the sky. “If I don’t burn off my own hair first.”

They both laughed, the sound mingling with the wind and the distant calls of waking Aiel from the Hold.

After a pause, Elyndria added, voice softer, “There may come a time when you have to fight like this—truly fight. And if that day comes, I want you to move like fire, without hesitation. Without fear.”

Egwene didn’t speak at first. Then, quietly, “Then, I’ll keep learning.”

Elyndria nodded, eyes still on the shifting horizon. “Every day. Until you’re stronger than me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

Elyndria smiled faintly. “Light, I hope it is.”

---

 

Elyndria made her way back into Cold Rocks Hold after a few more hours of practice with Egwene. The day had been full of energy, and now, with the evening settling in, she was ready to rest. She saw Egwene wander off toward the food fires, no doubt hungry after their training session.

Elyndria, however, had another destination in mind—Rand.

She spotted him easily as she approached the center of the camp. He was speaking to Alsera, Rhuarc’s greatdaughter, with a soft smile on his face. The young girl was grinning up at him with a cheeky, almost impish smile. There was a playful energy about her, the kind that was effortless and infectious.

Elyndria lingered for a moment, watching the scene unfold. She felt a warmth bloom in her chest as she saw Rand so relaxed, so natural with the Aiel children. It was clear he was comfortable with them, completely at ease in their young world. She smiled to herself and walked forward, making her presence known.

Alsera’s sharp eyes found Elyndria the moment she stepped towards them, lighting with unmistakable delight. “Hello, Elyndria!” she called brightly, practically bouncing where she stood. “Aviendha said you’re an Aes Sedai—a Green one! That means you’re a warrior, doesn’t it?”

Elyndria smiled, charmed by the girl’s boldness. “Yes, it does,” she replied with a warm nod. “The Green Ajah are the battle Ajah. Warriors, in a sense. It’s how I met Rand, actually. I was to be one of his protectors when his journey first began.”

Alsera’s eyes sparkled with interest as she glanced between the two of them, clearly turning something over in her mind. She tilted her head, expression serious, as if weighing a question of great importance. “Rand,” she said at last, her voice full of thoughtful curiosity, “since you’re the Car’a’carn… will you take many loves? Like Rhuarc does, with Bair and Lian?”

Rand let out a startled laugh, then couldn’t seem to stop. His chuckles turned to full, genuine laughter, echoing through the room. Elyndria’s eyes widened, a wave of surprise—and mild horror—rising in her chest at the question.

She glanced quickly at Rand, her brows lifting, but he was far too entertained to help her. He grinned down at her, utterly unrepentant, and she shot him a look that might have withered someone less amused. Still, his laughter slowly subsided, and he cleared his throat, composing himself.

“No,” he said at last, reaching out to brush a stray wave from Elyndria’s cheek. His voice was calm, fond, and resolute. “Elyndria is all the love I need.”

Elyndria felt the warmth in his gaze more than the words, and though a blush crept up her neck, she didn’t look away. Elyndria found herself smiling again despite the lingering flush.

Trust the Aiel to ask exactly what they were thinking.

Alsera looked confused for a moment, her brow furrowing as she processed this new information. After a moment’s pause, she shrugged, seemingly accepting Rand’s answer. “That’s okay. Some clan chiefs and other Aiel only take one, while others take more.  I know there’s one who has three.”

Elyndria hummed quietly, her mind suddenly busy with the thought of that many people involved in a single relationship. “Now that would be a bit exhausting, wouldn’t it?”

Alsera nodded enthusiastically, as if this was a well-considered fact. “I know, I can’t imagine it. That would mean I’d have to share my time with all of them. I’d rather be a Maiden of the Spear and be a fighter.” Her words were full of certainty, her young face serious as she considered her future.

Rand smiled warmly, clearly enjoying the conversation. “Yes, I think you’d rather keep to that. You’ll make a good Maiden of the Spear.”

Alsera beamed with pride, clearly pleased by the compliment. Just then, someone called her name, causing her to glance over her shoulder. “I have to go now, Rand,” she said, her tone serious but still carrying the same youthful energy. “Thank you for helping me gather our fruit and vegetables.”

With that, she darted off, her small form disappearing into the crowd as she moved to her next task.

Elyndria watched her go, still feeling the warmth of the exchange. She turned back to Rand, smiling softly at the ease with which he interacted with the children of the Aiel. It was something she hadn't expected to see when they first arrived here, but now it seemed so natural, so right. For all his burdens and responsibilities, Rand was able to find moments of peace and joy in the simplest of things—moments like this one.

She looked up at him, her heart full of gratitude for the bond they shared. "I didn’t expect to see you so at ease with the children," she said, her voice soft.

Rand met her gaze with a smile, one that was full of quiet affection. "They remind me of the world before... before everything became so complicated. It’s nice to just be here with them. Simple, carefree…..come on let’s go get some food before it’s all taken. I don’t know about you but I’m starving."

He gently took Elyndria’s hand and guided her through the bustle of Cold Rocks Hold. The smell of spice and roasted root vegetables drifted on the wind, drawing them toward the communal dining area where a low, broad stone had been set up for meals. A few Aiel were already gathered there, passing bowls of food and drinking cool water from clay jugs.

Egwene was waiting, seated cross-legged with a plate already in hand. She looked up as they approached, offering a smile that reached her eyes. “Took you long enough,” she teased. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

“Alsera nearly kept us,” Elyndria said with a chuckle as she lowered herself beside her friend. “She wanted to know if Rand would take multiple loves,” Elyndria continued, trying and failing to keep the color from rising to her cheeks. “Like Rhuarc and his wives.”

Egwene choked mid-sip of her drink, coughing through a laugh. “Light, she’s bold!”

“I told her that Elyndria was more than enough.” Rand laughed, clearly enjoying the memory

Egwene’s grin turned sly. “That was the correct answer, sheepherder.”

The three of them relaxed into the simple meal: flatbread wrapped around spicy lentils and shaved roasted roots, dried meats, and a cool mixture of dates and goat’s milk for sweetness. They ate slowly, sharing conversation between bites, the noise of the Hold a soft hum around them.

They began to wonder aloud about the others—about Mat, and whether the Yellow Ajah had helped him regain the memories he’d lost. Elyndria found herself tracing a finger along the edge of her bowl, remembering the last time she’d seen him, grinning despite the madness around them, defying fate as only he could.

Egwene speculated whether Perrin had reached the Two Rivers to defend it with Loial and the two Maidens, Bain and Chiad. “If any of them could drive back Trollocs,” she said, “it would be Perrin. And those women might be scarier than the Trollocs.”

Elyndria smiled faintly, picturing the stout-hearted Ogier beside the golden-eyed blacksmith and the fierce Maiden warriors. She hoped they were safe. She hoped they were all safe.

“I miss them,” Egwene said quietly.

“So do I,” Elyndria murmured.

Rand reached out, placing a steady hand over hers. “We’ll see them again. When the Pattern wills it.”

They lingered in the sun a little while longer, warmed more by each other’s company than the food or heat.

But, as always, time was not their own. A group of Aiel approached, one of the man instructing that the Wise Ones wanted to see Egwene. She stood at once, brushing her hands clean on her skirt. “Back to training,” she sighed, flashing a smile at them. “If I vanish into a dream and don’t return, you’ll know why.”

“Don’t let them intimidate you too much,” Rand called after her with a half-smile.

Before Elyndria could respond, a voice called out to Rand—Aviendha, walking with purpose, her arms crossed, her expression stern but not unfriendly. “Car’a’carn,” she said. “It’s time to learn, unless you wish to embarrass yourself in front of the other clans.”

Rand rose with a resigned look, giving Elyndria a quick kiss to her temple before following Aviendha, already asking questions about customs and traditions.

Elyndria stood alone for a heartbeat until a cluster of giggling children swarmed her, tugging at her hands and sleeves.

“Tell us a story about pirates!” one cried.

“No! A lightning battle” said another, poking at her braid.

“Can we play with your hair—it’s like moonlight!”

Elyndria laughed, letting herself be pulled along, her exhaustion forgotten as she allowed their joy to fill her.

She later found herself seated on a blanket beneath a shaded rock, little hands combing through her pale blonde hair with fascination while eager faces turned to her for another story.

"Well,” she began, voice soft and animated, “this one is about a ship lost at sea… and a girl who outwitted pirates using nothing but her imagination and her wits…”

As Elyndria spoke, the children’s rapt attention kept her anchored in the present, their faces illuminated with delight as she wove her story. The youngest one, a boy with wild, dark hair and mischievous eyes, climbed into her lap, resting his small head against her shoulder as she continued her tale. His soft breathing and the occasional giggle made the moment feel almost like a dream itself—one where the worries of the world didn’t exist.

Her fingers played through his tangled hair absentmindedly as she described a battle fought between ships on a moonlit sea. The child, completely caught up in the story, raised his hand suddenly, his face alight with questions.

“Did the pirates win?” he asked, his voice filled with the same intensity she felt when immersed in her own stories.

Elyndria paused, a smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, that’s the part of the story where the hero uses her wits to defeat the pirate captain. But you see, the pirate captain—he was cunning. He tried to trick the hero by hiding a treasure, but—” she leaned closer to the boy, “—the hero outsmarted him, and in the end, the pirate’s own trap was his downfall.”

The children around her cheered softly, some whispering among themselves about how clever the hero was. Elyndria’s heart swelled with affection for them. Their innocence, their unwavering belief in heroes and adventure, was a balm for the fears that plagued her mind.

But even as she reveled in the warmth of the moment, her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the dreams she had been struggling with—the visions of Ilyena, of memories that weren’t truly hers but felt so real.  Elyndria shook her head slightly, trying to push the thoughts away. The children were far too precious, far too full of life to let her thoughts wander into darkness.

A girl, no older than ten, tugged at the sleeve of her tunic. “Tell us more about the hero. What happened after she outsmarted the pirates?”

Elyndria smiled down at the girl, drawing her attention back to the moment. “Well,” she began, “after the hero escaped, she sailed to a hidden island where she found the greatest treasure of all—wisdom.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And the treasure was never gold, but the friendships she made along the way, the lessons she learned, and the hearts she touched.” The children quieted for a moment, considering her words. Then, one by one, they began to speak, offering their thoughts about the story. Elyndria listened with a full heart, the simplicity of their answers both humbling and soothing.

Her thoughts, for the first time in days, felt clear—focused on the children before her, on the joy of this moment.  As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Elyndria’s mind shifted back to the present.

The children’s voices started to blur as a familiar figure approached from across the yard, a tall silhouette framed by the fading light. Rand had returned, he waved as he walked toward her, the smile on his face warm and reassuring. Elyndria’s chest tightened at the sight of him—safe, strong, and with that quiet understanding in his gaze.

The children, sensing the change, began to disperse with polite bows, leaving Elyndria with a soft smile on her face. She rose to meet Rand, who had already made his way over to her.

“You seem at peace,” he said quietly, his voice warm but knowing.

Elyndria smiled, trying to push the shadows of her thoughts further back. “I was just telling them stories,” she said softly. “The kind that make their eyes light up. It felt good.”

Rand’s gaze lingered on her, as though trying to gauge her mood. He nodded, understanding the unspoken weight she carried. “I’m glad. I didn’t know you enjoyed children” His voice softened even further, and he reached out to take her hand. “It’s nice to see you surrounded by them.”

Her heart fluttered slightly, though she pushed the feeling down as she pushed him slightly and said jokingly, “Don’t get any thoughts in your head Rand.”

He grinned softly just for a moment and pulled her into his arms and rested his head on the top of her head. Elyndria stood quietly in Rand’s embrace, feeling the slow, even rhythm of his breathing against her. It was a rare moment—of stillness, of ease—and she let herself sink into it for just a little longer.

“I’m not getting any thoughts,” Rand murmured above her, voice low and teasing. “Well… maybe just one.”

She tilted her head back to look up at him, her brows raised in mock suspicion. “Only one?”

He smiled, brushing his knuckles gently along her jaw. “Just that you’d make a wonderful mother one day.”

Her breath caught, the words hanging between them like a shimmer of light. She wasn’t sure what to say—there was so much weight to those words, so much possibility and uncertainty tangled within them. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned her head back into his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

“Maybe… someday,” she said softly. “If there’s still a world left for it.”

Rand was quiet for a long moment, his arms tightening slightly around her. “There will be,” he said at last, with quiet conviction. “We’ll make it so.”

She didn’t answer, but she nodded slowly. A faint breeze tugged at her pale hair, strands catching on the fabric of his coat. It felt like a promise, unspoken but real. In the distance, voices began to rise again—the life of the Hold returning to its rhythm.

Rand released her gently, pressing a kiss to her temple before stepping back. “Come on. Before Aviendha comes back and drags me off again.”

Elyndria smiled at that, brushing the dust from her skirts as they started walking together, the warmth of his touch lingering on her skin as they made their through Cold Rock Hold.

The rest of the afternoon passed in quiet contentment, the weight of the world lifted for a few precious hours as Elyndria remained close to Rand’s side. They wandered the encampment together, speaking softly, laughing now and then at shared memories or at the antics of the younger Aiel children. It wasn’t often they were granted such stillness, and Elyndria treasured it, clinging to the peace like sunlight through a storm.

Rand suddenly took her hand, his fingers warm and familiar. Without a word, he gave her a tug, a boyish grin flickering on his lips.

She blinked at him, curious. “Where are we going?”

He only shook his head, a spark dancing in his eyes. “Just trust me. You’ll like it.”

Elyndria arched a brow, amused. “You’re being cryptic.”

“Eyes closed,” he said, stopping abruptly. “No peeking.”

With a long, dramatic sigh—one meant to make him laugh—Elyndria closed her eyes and lifted her chin with exaggerated grace. “Very well. Lead on, mighty Car’a’carn.”

He laughed softly and began to guide her forward, his hand never leaving hers. Each step felt deliberate, the air around them growing cooler, tinged with something different. She inhaled deeply. Dirt. Moisture. They came to a stop.

“Open your eyes,” Rand said, his voice soft.

Elyndria did. Her breath caught. Before her, nestled in the heart of the stone, was a garden. Not a dry patch of herbs or a few stubborn weeds clinging to life—but a true, living garden. Pots of lush green growth lined the edges, with vines crawling up the stone walls like threads of life winding skyward. Small trees bore fruit, and vegetables peeked from their stems, ripe and plump in the low light. The scent of earth and water filled the space, grounding and gentle.

She turned in a slow circle, eyes wide in wonder. “Wow… I would never have thought something like this could grow here.”

“It does,” came a bright voice from behind one of the pots. Alsera stood up, brushing her hands on her skirts, a woven basket looped over her arm. She walked toward them with purpose, the pride clear on her young face. “I help look after it.” She handed the basket to Rand, then fixed Elyndria with a very serious look, her small hands resting on her hips. “Rand said you liked gardening. So I thought you could help with ours.”

Elyndria smiled softly, touched. “You did?”

Alsera nodded, earnest and solemn. “It’s one of the most important jobs I do. To take care of it. So you have to be gentle with it.” The words, so simple and so wise, settled something in Elyndria’s chest.

She turned toward Rand, who stood watching her with quiet affection. She sent him a look of gratitude—no words needed. “I missed this,” she said quietly, brushing her fingers along the edge of a flowering vine. “Back at the Tower, I had a small plot. It was nothing like this, but… it was mine. This feels like that. More than that.”

“Then it’s yours now too,” Rand said, handing her the basket with a smile. “Alsera insists.”

Alsera gave a decisive nod, satisfied. Together, the three of them began to tend the garden—plucking ripe fruit, brushing away dead leaves, checking the moisture of the soil. Alsera chatted the whole time, explaining which plants liked shade, which were fussy about watering, which ones grew only if you sang to them (she insisted this was true). Rand mostly listened, asking questions now and then, though Elyndria caught him watching her more than the plants.

The quiet joy of it settled into Elyndria like warm sun on skin. Hands in the soil, laughter in the air, and Rand beside her—it was a peace she hadn’t expected to find here, and one she would treasure.

But peace, like all things, was fleeting. Duty found her again.

Elyndria looked up from digging in the soil as Bair appeared with her usual calm urgency, nodding once in Rand’s direction before turning her eyes on Elyndria. “Come, we are ready,” she said simply.

Elyndria gave Rand a small smile, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand before following Bair across the hard-packed ground of Cold Rocks Hold. Inside the Wise Ones’ hold, Melaine waited, seated with a stillness that felt carved from the stone itself. Her sharp gaze met Elyndria’s the moment she stepped into the room.

“Are you ready to try again?” Melaine asked, her voice even, but not unkind.

Elyndria nodded. She said nothing, simply moving to the soft pallet laid out for her. She lowered herself down, closed her eyes, and let her breath settle. The presence of the Wise Ones anchored her—Bair and Melaine murmuring quietly, their voices steady, guiding her thoughts, guiding her spirit.

The moment her eyes opened, the light had changed.

She was back in the small house—the same cluttered, timeworn room from before. Shadows pooled in the corners, soft with memory. The old woman sat slumped in her chair, asleep this time, her breath slow and heavy, the lines of her face deeper in the low light. The bed was empty now. Amara was gone, and the blankets had been hastily pulled back, the impression of her frail form still lingering in the mattress.

Elyndria moved slowly through the space, taking in the scattered objects that painted a life once lived here. Fairy tale books lay askew on a nearby table, their spines cracked from years of use. A child’s dress—unfinished—hung over the edge of a sewing basket, its fabric soft and faded.  Musical instruments leaned against the far wall. A small harp, a flute, and a dusty fiddle. None of them had been played in some time. A thin veil of dust coated them like a memory too long buried.

Then, a sound behind her.

Elyndria turned.

Amara stood near the doorway, thinner than before, her skin pale and sickly. Sweat clung to her brow, and her shoulders sagged under the weight of the bundle she carried in her arms. A blanket—beautifully embroidered, clearly loved—wrapped the small bundle she held close.

“You’ll be fine,” Amara whispered, her voice ragged and soft. “Be safe… I’ll make it so…”

She cast a glance toward the old woman sleeping in the chair before slipping silently out of the house, the door creaking softly on its hinges.

Elyndria followed.

Outside, the world was wrapped in stillness. The sky remained dark, the edges just beginning to warm with the faintest blush of dawn. Grass bent beneath Amara’s footsteps, dew clinging to the hem of her skirt as she moved through the sparse homes that dotted the land around her.

Elyndria stayed close, silent, each step echoing like a breath against the hush.

Amara’s breathing grew heavier, more labored. A wheeze rose in her chest with every few steps, and yet she did not pause. Determination burned in her feverish eyes. The blanket shifted once in her arms, a soft noise coming from within, but Amara merely held it closer.

They walked for what felt like an age until, at last, familiar spires rose in the distance.

Tar Valon.

The sight sent a shiver through Elyndria. She could feel it deep in her bones—recognition and warning all at once.

They entered the city under the cover of early morning shadows, slipping through lesser-used paths. The white marble streets glistened faintly with dew, and the light of the Tower rose in the distance like a beacon. The city look much the same—ornate bridges arched overhead, and shops with shuttered windows lined the streets.

Amara moved with purpose, winding through alleys and past fountains Elyndria recognized. Familiarity warred with strangeness as she took in the near-silent streets. She could hear the faint echo of the Tower bells in the distance—five chimes, maybe six. Dawn was nearly here.

Elyndria’s steps began to falter, each one heavier than the last as the towering white silhouette of the White Tower came fully into view.

Her breath caught. No…

A tight coil formed in her chest as Amara pressed onward, her figure barely holding together under the strain. She moved with stubborn, trembling determination, her thin frame almost weightless beneath the burden of the bundle she held so close.

Elyndria lingered near the edge of the square, half-shrouded in shadow, her gaze locked on the steps leading up to the grand entrance of the White Tower. Her mind screamed in denial, but her body already knew. Something familiar and terrible inside her stirred—a memory beneath the skin, beneath the soul.

Amara reached the base of the steps. Her knees buckled slightly as she slowly ascended, step by unsteady step, until she reached the landing.

With a shuddering breath, Amara knelt.

She set the bundle down with infinite care on the cold white stone, her hands trembling violently as she did so. She didn’t look away from it—not even for a heartbeat. Her fingers ghosted over the edge of the blanket, tracing the embroidery, before finally, hesitantly, peeling it back just enough to expose a child’s face.

Elyndria moved forward without realizing it.

Each step was laced with dread, her blood roaring in her ears like a storm. The world narrowed to a single point—Amara, kneeling on the steps, and the bundle that lay at her knees. She came to a stop beside her. Amara was crying now, the sound raw and quiet, more like the breaking of something inside than sobs.

Elyndria looked down.

A small face, pale and delicate, nestled against folds of fabric that had been stitched with love and desperation. Wisps of pale blonde hair curled at the child’s temple. The cheeks were soft, untouched by the world. She knew that face. Knew it from a mirror. Knew it from every stolen glimpse of her own reflection over the years. A sharp, involuntary whimper escaped her throat. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

It was her.

The breath she drew was ragged, shaking her entire body. “Oh my Light,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking as if the world itself had just split open.

The child stirred slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips, before settling again into quiet sleep. Amara reached out with both hands, cupping the child's face briefly, her expression torn between agony and fierce love.

“I’m sorry,” Amara whispered to the child, her voice like dry paper, “Forgive me…”

Elyndria couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Her entire life—all the questions, all the hollow spaces inside her that no truth had ever filled—were tilting, shifting, breaking open.

This wasn’t just a dream. This was a memory.

Her memory.

Amara didn’t move for a long time. She knelt in silence, her hands pressed to the child’s tiny face as though trying to memorize the shape of her one last time.

The bells from the Tower rang again, closer now—seven chimes. The sky was beginning to pale, streaks of light brushing across the city’s rooftops.

Elyndria stood frozen beside her, the chill of the stone seeping up through her boots, but it was nothing compared to the ice gathering in her chest. Her heart ached as if it had been pierced clean through.

Amara finally drew back her hands. She pulled the blanket back over the child with painstaking tenderness, making sure it was tucked snugly. Her lips moved soundlessly at first, then, barely audible, she began to whisper.

“I love you,” she whispered hoarsely. “So much. Your father loves you, too… so deeply.” Her voice cracked, breaking apart like dry leaves in the wind. She brushed a hand through the child’s fine hair, smoothing it down, trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I pray the Tower will give you love, protection… the safety that we can’t. That I won’t be able to. Not anymore.” Her breaths were labored, rasping. Elyndria could hear the wheeze in her lungs, the struggle with every inhale. Yet she kept speaking, pressing her forehead gently to the child’s.

“I will love you always, my starlight,” she whispered, the words barely forming. “Until my very last breath.”

Then she kissed the child once more, wrapped the blanket tightly again, and stood on legs that trembled like reeds in the wind. She gave one final glance toward the Tower doors, then turned, slowly walking back into the darkness, leaving her behind.

The world around her shimmered. The soft blue hues of dawn faded like ripples across still water, and Elyndria felt the pull—gentle but undeniable—as the dream began to unravel. The sound of Amara’s steps vanished into silence.

Then a warmth settled in her chest, the faint pressure of hands on her shoulders, grounding her. She blinked, and the steps of the White Tower blurred into nothingness. Cool air touched her skin. She was lying down.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Melaine and Bair were above her, their expressions unreadable, but their hands were steady where they touched her. Elyndria stared at the ceiling of the Wise Ones’ hold, the dim orange glow of lanterns swaying gently above.

For a moment, she didn’t move—barely breathed. Her mind still clung to the image of the child wrapped in a blanket. Of Amara’s whispered words.

Of her mother.

Chapter 33: Secrets and hurting

She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her chest, as if to steady the rapid beat of her heart. Bair withdrew her hand and gave her a long, searching look.

“You saw more this time,” Bair said simply.

Elyndria nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Her vision blurred again, not with the haze of dream, but with tears she had not yet let fall.

Melaine knelt beside her, voice gentler than usual. “Did you understand what you saw?”

She swallowed hard, nodding once. “Yes,” she said quietly, voice rough. “I saw my mother. She gave me to the Tower. She left me there”

But it pained Amara to do so, Elyndria had seen it in Amara’s eyes—the pain, the regret—as she walked away.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Bair spoke, her tone firm but not unkind. “Your soul carries many lives within you. But this one—this life—is yours. Do not lose yourself in the echoes of it.”

Elyndria looked down at her hands, trying to slow her breathing. “I never remembered her face. Or her voice. But now I do.” She exhaled shakily. “She called me her starlight.”

Melaine’s eyes softened. “She loved you. That is something strong to hold onto.”

Elyndria nodded again, and this time, a tear slipped down her cheek. She made no move to wipe it away. “I just wish I could have said something to her. Anything.”

Bair placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Perhaps you still can. But remember—what you carry forward matters more than what you leave behind.”

Elyndria closed her eyes briefly, letting those words settle. Then, with a deep breath, she opened them again and stood. “I want to understand more,” she said. “I need to.”

“You will,” Melaine said, rising with her. “But not all at once. For tonight, you rest. Let your mind settle.”

Elyndria glanced once more around the room, her heart heavy but no longer hollow. The ache of absence still pulsed in her, but beneath it was something else—something like clarity. She wasn’t just seeking the past anymore. She was beginning to remember who she truly was.

The cool night air greeted Elyndria as she stepped quietly from the Wise Ones’ hold, the dry hush of Cold Rocks Hold settling around her like a shawl. The moon hung low over the jagged horizon, casting long silver shadows across the sandstone paths.

Her steps were slow, unhurried, her thoughts still tangled in what she’d seen—what she now remembered. Amara’s face lingered in her mind, pale and worn, yet radiant in its tenderness. The way she had whispered over Elyndria’s small body, the tremor in her voice as she’d promised love.

Her starlight.

Elyndria could still feel those words resting just above her heart, fragile as spun glass.

The White Tower had always been her beginning. Or so she had thought. Now, she knew the truth. That she had been loved before the Tower. That she had been chosen to be left, not discarded. It changed something deep inside her. Not entirely healing the old wound—but softening it, wrapping it in understanding.

The reached the small stone room she shared with Rand and hesitated at the entrance flap. She drew in a breath and pushed it to the side. Warm firelight flickered within, casting golden tones across the stone walls.

Rand was seated near the hearth, a blanket draped over his lap, but his head turned the moment she stepped in—as if he’d been listening for her footsteps. He was still dressed, his coat only half unbuttoned. His eyes, shadowed with worry, met hers immediately. He looked tired, but alert, like he hadn’t been able to rest until she returned.

“You’re back,” he said softly, rising.

Elyndria closed the door behind her, the quiet latch echoing in the still room. She nodded, setting aside the shawl she had worn.

“I didn’t sleep,” Rand added, his voice tentative. “I wanted to stay awake in case you saw something else…”

He took a step toward her, but waited.

She didn’t speak at first, her gaze trailing over the room. Over the familiar shape of his boots by the wall, the folded map on the small desk, the way the firelight painted soft amber along his jaw.

He had waited for her. And somehow, it made everything inside her soften.

“I saw her,” Elyndria said at last, her voice quiet and low. Rand’s brow furrowed, but he waited patiently. “Amara, the sick woman from my dream before. She was my mother,” she continued. “I watched her carry me through Tar Valon… and leave me at the White Tower. I think…Lyliana…the name she was calling before was me. ”

Rand didn’t speak right away. He reached for her slowly, giving her time to refuse—but she didn’t. His arms circled her, drawing her in gently, and Elyndria leaned into the warmth of him, resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady. Strong.

“She loved me,” she whispered. “I always wondered… but she did. So much. I don’t know why gave me to the White Tower, she was sick and feverish, but I think she was taking me there to be safe.”

Rand held her tighter. “I’m sorry you had to see that. But I’m glad you know now.”

Elyndria nodded against him. “I always believed I wasn’t wanted. That I was just left. But she… she called me her starlight. She said she’d love me until her last breath.

Rand’s hand moved through her hair slowly, comforting. “Then you were always loved. Even when you didn’t remember.”

They stood like that for a long while, the fire crackling softly beside them, silence resting gently between their breaths. Finally, Elyndria pulled back slightly to look up at him.

“You waited for me.”

Rand smiled, small and quiet. “Of course I did.”

They moved over to the bed and laid together in the quiet hush of the room, the firelight dimming as the last of the kindling smoldered into a soft, pulsing glow.

Outside, the Hold had fallen into stillness, the world hushed beneath the weight of night. Inside, wrapped in the warmth of wool blankets and each other, Elyndria and Rand rested without words. His arms were around her, firm and comforting, his breath slow against the crown of her head as he slept.

An hour or two must have gone by as Elyndria’s fingers traced the lines of his forearm, her touch absent-minded, rhythmic. Each pass of her fingers brought her back into her thoughts, into the echoes of what she had seen.

Amara.

Her mother’s name settled like a whisper across her heart.

She could still see the pale, trembling hands pulling back the blanket. Still hear the way her mother’s voice broke on the word starlight. The quiet, desperate apology. The reverent promise of love.

Her chest ached—not with grief, not entirely. It was something deeper. A mourning for a life that had never been lived, for lullabies never sung and stories never told. Yet beneath it, wrapped within the ache, was warmth. A sense of being held, even now, across time and distance.

Amara had loved her. Fiercely.

Elyndria’s hand slowed, her fingertips brushing gently over the fine golden hairs on Rand’s arm. And then came the thought she hadn’t dared give shape to until now.

Her father.

A shadowed figure in her memories—no, not even a shadow. A name unspoken, a face unseen. But her mother had said he loved her. Your father loves you, too…

Did he?

Had he known what happened? Had he mourned her absence? Had he tried to find her?

Elyndria’s breath caught slightly, but she kept it quiet. Her gaze rested on the ceiling, on the flicker of firelight dancing across the stone. The questions curled in her chest like smoke.

What kind of man had he been?

What kind of man had loved a woman like Amara?

Had he ever walked the streets of Tar Valon, searching for a child he couldn’t name?

She would likely never know. And yet… a part of her longed to believe. To believe that he had tried. That somewhere, in the quiet spaces of his life, he had wondered. Missed her. Maybe even searched, only to find nothing.

Her fingers curled gently against Rand’s arm, grounding herself again. Rand stirred slightly, not waking up but adjusting, drawing her closer to his body. His breath brushed against her skin, warm and even. She pressed her forehead to his chest and closed her eyes, letting the beat of his heart anchor her.

She was not that abandoned child anymore.

Elyndria was not lost.

She was here. In his arms. Wrapped in a different kind of love now—one she had chosen and one that had chosen her in return.

The silence didn’t last long as the hanging fabric at the doorway snapped open, flung aside with a force that made Elyndria’s heart stutter.

Her body jolted upright, instinct reacting before thought, and the sudden movement startled Rand awake. He jerked up beside her, eyes wide with sleep-blurred confusion, just as she pushed herself off the bed, pulse surging. Rand following her movements not a second later.

Egwene stood framed in the doorway, her face flushed with anger, chest rising and falling quickly. “Did you know?” she demanded, her gaze fixed on Rand with an intensity that made the air feel brittle.

Rand blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What—?”

“Did you know?” Egwene repeated, louder this time, her voice cracking beneath the heat of emotion. “Tell me, Rand. Did you know that you’ve been speaking to a Forsaken in your dreams?”

Elyndria’s stomach dropped. She took a step forward, placing herself between them, her voice calm but firm. “Egwene—he can’t control it. She—Lanfear—she intrudes in his dreams. She finds him, not the other way around.”

Egwene scoffed sharply, an ugly sound twisted with disbelief.

“Intrudes, does she?” Her eyes narrowed on Rand again. “He can’t control it, can he? Then explain this to me, because I saw it.” Rand stiffened. “I was walking through Tel’aran’rhiod and I found his dream,” Egwene said, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to—but I did. And there he was, shoulder to shoulder with her. Lanfear. Laughing. Like they were old friends.” She looked to Elyndria again, her expression one of betrayal, of hurt. “Like he was talking to one of us.”

Elyndria’s lips pulled into a frown as she turned to Rand.

He had gone very still, his expression unreadable. But she could his emotions through the bond—guilt, confusion, frustration, all at once.

She looked back to Egwene, trying to steady the moment before it unraveled completely. “Dreams are… difficult, Egwene. You know that. They aren’t always what they seem.”

Egwene’s eyes glistened. “Then explain to me why it looked real. Why she touched his hand. Why he didn’t pull away.”

Elyndria’s breath came unsteadily as she turned and stared at Rand. His silence cut deeper than any explanation could have. Her voice trembled with the sting of it. “I asked you about Lanfear in your dreams. More than once. And you never said this. You never tell me anything when it comes to her.”

Rand’s shoulders tensed, his jaw clenching before he spoke, voice low and strained. “Because it makes you upset.”

Her heart sank. She stepped back from him, as though the weight of his words physically pushed her.

Her lip quivered as the ache behind her ribs turned sharp. “Of course I’m upset,” she said, voice rising with hurt and disbelief. “She’s one of the Forsaken, Rand. She’s a monster out of people’s nightmares. Think of how many lives she’s destroyed—how many have died because of her.”

His gaze dropped, but his jaw remained tight. “Lews Therin killed many, too.”

“That’s different!” Elyndria snapped, the words ripping out of her before she could stop them. “He was driven mad—twisted by the Dark One’s taint! What he did was a tragedy, not a choice. Lanfear walks willingly into cruelty—she chooses it.”” Her voice trembled at the edges, pain surging through the bond like waves in a storm.

She felt his regret, his guilt—but also the stubborn, buried conviction that frightened her more than she wanted to admit.

“She was good once,” Rand said, barely above a whisper. “Before the War. Before everything. I saw it, Elyndria. In Rhuidean. In the memories of one of my ancestors. She loved the Light. She fought for it.”

“And now?” Elyndria whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “Now she serves the Shadow. She bends dreams. Lies. Manipulates. And you—you keep letting her in. You listen to her.”

He flinched, as though her words struck him physically. “It’s not that simple.”

“Not that simple,” Egwene echoed bitterly, her voice low and shaking with restrained fury. She took a sharp step forward, her eyes burning as they moved between Elyndria and Rand. “I’ll tell you what is simple. That Lanfear is still twisted. Still cruel. Still the same monster she was before the world broke.”

Rand swallowed hard. “Egwene—”

“She hasn’t changed, Rand,” Egwene snapped, voice rising. “Not truly. When I was training with the Wise Ones, learning to dreamwalk, do you know what I began to notice?” Her voice faltered slightly, but her gaze stayed hard, unwavering.

Rand said nothing, his silence thick as the wind before a coming storm.

“My dreams,” Egwene continued, quieter now, but no less intense. “The ones where the sul’dam were torturing me… where I felt them leash me again, tear at my mind, break me down…” She shook her head. “It was her. Your Lanfear. She was in them. All this time. Just watching at first. And then… she started changing them. Warping them. Making it worse.” Elyndria’s breath caught as Egwene turned toward her and gestured sharply. “And the memories Elyndria keeps seeing? Of Lews Therin killing Ilyena and their children over and over again?” Her voice cracked. “That’s her too.”

A cold chill wrapped itself around Elyndria’s spine. The images, the children’s broken bodies, the blood,—it hadn’t just been fragments of the past. They had been fed to her. Twisted into something worse.

Poisoned.

“She found me, tonight while I trained, in Tel’aran’rhiod,” Egwene said, her voice trembling with loathing and something that bordered on grief. “She came to me as I walked through my dreams. And she laughed. She told me she enjoyed watching us suffer. That our pain, Rand, made her happy. That she wished—” Egwene swallowed hard, fury burning in her eyes, “—she’d been there to see Lews Therin kill the woman he loved. That she would have savored the moment.”

The bond between Elyndria and Rand flooded with a storm of emotion—shame, revulsion, heartbreak. Rand’s face had gone pale, features tight as though the weight of every word dragged him deeper into some unseen pit. He glanced between Elyndria and Egwene, his eyes raw with pain and guilt, “I – “

The wall behind them exploded in a deafening blast of light and air.

Elyndria’s breath tore from her lungs as she and Egwene were flung backward, crashing onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and bedding. Rand was hurled in the opposite direction, slamming into the far wall with a sickening thud.

Dust and shards of stone filled the air, choking and blinding, as the walls shuddered from the impact. Coughing, Elyndria pushed herself upright, her ears ringing. Her heart froze as she caught sight of a man stepping through the shattered threshold—a tall, older man with silvered hair and a cruel glint in his eyes. His posture radiated arrogance, and his presence was undeniable—he was the one who had wielded the One Power like a hammer.

Saidin burned in the air around him, suffocating in its intensity.

Rand groaned and began to rise, dazed but defiant. Elyndria surged forward instinctively—but six figures swept into the room behind the stranger, each armed with long, curved blades gleaming under the flickering light. They blocked her path, circling like vultures.

“Rand!” she cried.

One of the men lunged, blade arcing through the air, but Elyndria seized the Source with practiced ease, the familiar heat of saidar rushing into her like sunlight. She struck him with a lance of air, hurling him back against the wall.

Egwene rose beside her, already weaving a storm of fire and wind, her face carved from fury.

The stranger sneered, unmoved. He raised a hand toward Rand, and the air shimmered violently before Rand was slammed back to the floor by a weft of invisible force. Dust rose around him.

“You’ve gotten soft, Lews Therin,” the man drawled, his voice a mockery of amusement laced with venom. “Is this what the Dragon has become?”

Elyndria gritted her teeth, throwing herself against the barrier of sword and muscle, desperation lending strength to every weave. “Let him go!”

Elyndria moved like light on water—fluid, fast, but with the crackling sharpness of saidar burning beneath her skin. Her hands flicked outward, weaving Air into hardened walls and bursts of force. A dagger sliced too close—she caught it mid-flight with a sudden twist of Spirit and flung it back, the weapon embedding itself in the wood behind her attacker. He didn’t get the chance to scream.

Another man lunged. She had no blade of her own, but she didn’t need one. She drew on Fire and Earth, flaring it from her palm in a narrow, explosive line. The blast knocked him off his feet, sending his blade skittering across the floor.

Then the light came.

Not the firelight of destruction or the harsh flare of battle—but something else.

Something hers.

Gold and white weaves bloomed from her fingers, trailing in elegant arcs as she moved—like sunlight caught in a windstorm. 

She spun, weaving as she stepped, the weaves flowing around her like a dance. An attacker rushed her—only to stumble, blinded by the sudden shimmering vision of wings. A bird, vast and radiant, swooped through the air between them, formed entirely of light. The man raised his arms to defend against it, confused—and she struck him with a concussive weave of Air.

Still more came. The chaos grew louder, fiercer. Suddenly, a new presence burst into the chaos.

Aviendha.

She stormed through the ruined doorway, eyes sharp as flint, braided hair flying behind her. With a flick of her hands and a furious pull of the Power, she summoned fire along her spears—weaves come alive—and lunged into the fray with the speed and fury of a charging lioness.

A warrior aimed a hidden blade toward her back—but Egwene was faster, throwing up a shield of air just in time. The blade rebounded harmlessly, and Aviendha didn’t even pause. She moved like wind across sand, spinning, striking, channeling. Elyndria pressed forward, the distance to Rand still too far, her bond to him a flickering, strained pulse under the din of combat. Her breath came fast now. Sweat beaded at her brow, but the light was alive around her—moving in rhythm with her thoughts.

Elyndria’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she reached deeper, pulling more of the One Power. In her hands, the light coalesced, shimmering with a fierce intensity. A ball of golden light formed, its heat radiating in waves, almost too bright to look at.

She hurled it forward, her focus sharp as the sphere rocketed toward one of the man ahead. The air crackled, and the ball exploded with a searing burst of heat upon impact. The man stumbled back, his hands raised in a futile attempt to shield himself from the burning energy. The light lingered for a moment, the scent of ozone heavy in the air, before dissipating, leaving the ground singed where it had struck.

Elyndria’s chest heaved with exertion.

From beside her Aviendha met the older man’s gaze across the chaos, raised one of her weaved spears—and threw.

It pierced the air with searing speed before the spear struck the man’s shoulder, erupting in a blast of fire that sent him staggering with a grunt of pain, smoke curling from the torn fabric of his cloak.

“Out! Out, get out!” Rand bellowed from behind them.

No one hesitated.

Elyndria reached him first, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit. Egwene and Aviendha flanked them, covering their retreat. They sprinted through the broken doorway, debris crumbling beneath their feet, the walls trembling as though the world itself rejected the intrusion.

Then—another blast.

It erupted behind them with a roar that swallowed all sound.

The shockwave lifted them like leaves in a storm. Elyndria felt the floor vanish beneath her, her body flung through the air as heat and force slammed into her back. For one heart-stopping moment, everything was nothing—no up, no down, only blinding light.

She hit the ground outside with a bone-jarring thud, the breath knocked clean from her lungs.  The world spun, distant and muffled. Through the haze of pain and smoke, Elyndria turned her head as she laid on her back, her body almost vibrating in pain.

Rand lay a few paces away, beginning to rise as the older man sauntered out of the ruined building, each step deliberate, smug, the air rippling around him with the overwhelming heat of saidin. Power radiated from him in pulsing waves, sharp and sickly, like sunlight twisted through poisoned glass.

Elyndria’s gaze darted to her side—Egwene and Aviendha lay motionless, the edges of their clothing singed, blood trickling from a cut on Egwene’s temple.

A soft, pained whimper escaped Elyndria’s throat as she forced herself upright, clutching at her ribs. Each breath was agony, jagged and shallow. The world swam, her legs unsteady, knees trembling like reeds in a storm. She stumbled forward, collapsing to one knee with a harsh gasp. That gasp caught Rand’s attention.

His head snapped toward her. His eyes darted from Elyndria to the others—Egwene’s still form, Aviendha’s unconscious sprawl—and back again, lingering on Elyndria, whose arms trembled as she pushed herself back onto her feet with sheer force of will.

She met his eyes.

And through the bond, it hit her.

The rage.

It bloomed in him like wildfire, red-hot and consuming, not a flash of temper but a torrent—wrath fueled by helplessness, by fear, by seeing them all wounded—by seeing her wounded. It surged through the bond like a thunderclap, and with it, saidin flared to life inside him, brilliant and terrifying in its purity and weight.

Rand’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the air crackling around him like lightning trapped in a bottle. The older man’s eyes gleamed, and with a chuckle that turned sharp, mocking, he raised his own hands. Saidin flared from him in a torrent, raw and searing—but it paled in comparison to the storm that burst from Rand in the same breath.

It wasn’t a weave—it was a detonation.

Elyndria was thrown back, the sheer force of it rippling through the ground and air like a shockwave. She hit the earth with a gasp, landing hard on her side. Pain flared through her ribs, but she barely felt it—her eyes were locked on Rand.

He hadn’t moved an inch.

He stood tall, still, a maelstrom of power spiralling around him like a halo of fire and wind and something deeper—older. The earth quivered beneath his boots. The bond between them thrummed with something so vast and boundless it nearly overwhelmed her. It wasn’t just anger. It was will. It was judgment.

The older man’s smug grin faltered.

His laughter stuttered into silence.

A flicker of uncertainty danced in his eyes as he took a cautious step backward, saidin still coiled around him—but it was too late. Rand raised a hand, looking towards it like he was watching something wonderful. He didn’t speak. But the air around him shifted—and Elyndria felt it. So did the man. The very Pattern trembled. It was only a few seconds—but to Elyndria, it felt as though time itself had stretched thin around them. Rand’s saidin flared like a burning fire, brighter than anything she had felt from him before.

It roared in the air, not with chaos, but with fierce, unshakable purpose. The older man, once so confident, staggered as though struck by an unseen hand. His feet skidded back across the ground, eyes wide with confusion and fear. He looked up at Rand, and for a single breath, his mouth opened—as if to plead, or curse, or scream.

But he never got the chance.

A dreadful sound filled the air, a deep groaning that vibrated through the earth and marrow. Elyndria’s eyes widened as she turned, heart hammering in her chest. The stone building they had only just escaped—walls still trembling from the earlier battle—began to crack. Dust fell from its seams, and then, with a thunderous roar, the entire structure collapsed in on itself.

Stone and timber crumbled, a cloud of dust exploding outward as the building imploded directly over the man.

The impact rattled the ground beneath her feet. A massive burst of air struck her face, and she instinctively raised an arm to shield her eyes. When the dust began to settle, there was nothing left of the stone hold. Just a pile of rubble and a sense of something being… undone.

Elyndria stood frozen, her ribs aching, the sounds of Egwene and Aviendha beginning to stir behind her. She looked to Rand.

He hadn’t moved. His hand was still raised, though now it began to lower slowly, fingers twitching. His chest rose and fell in deep, ragged breaths, the brilliance of saidin fading from him like the last rays of sun behind storm clouds.

Elyndria pushed herself up shakily, wincing. Her voice was quiet, fragile. “Rand…?”

But he didn’t answer. He just kept staring at his hands.

Aviendha stepped forward with halting, heavy steps, her eyes locked on the collapsed ruin before them. Her breathing was tight, shallow. She barely seemed aware of the dust still drifting in the air, clinging to her skin and hair.

“Alsera,” she said, voice low and cracking. “She was upstairs.”

Elyndria’s heart plummeted. “No…” she whispered, barely aware of her own voice.

Her gaze darted to the ruins, then to Aviendha, whose face had drained of all color. Panic gripped Elyndria's chest like a vice, squeezing until her breath hitched painfully. Her body moved without thought, stumbling forward, but Aviendha raised a hand—whether to stop her or herself, Elyndria wasn’t sure.

Then Rand blinked. His head tilted slightly, as if he hadn’t heard clearly. “Alsera…” he murmured again, like the word had to be sounded out, tasted.

The name hung in the air like a blade.

His eyes drifted toward the wreckage, unblinking. Slowly—too slowly—he turned and began to walk forward. His limbs moved stiffly, unnaturally. Each step was deliberate but off, as though he wasn’t guiding his own body but being pulled forward by something else. There was no urgency, no emotion—just a mechanical forward motion that turned Elyndria’s stomach.

He looked like a puppet on strings.

“Rand?” Elyndria called, her voice barely carrying.

He didn’t respond.

She followed, limping as she moved, ignoring the pain that screamed in her ribs.

Aviendha stood motionless, her hand clenched tightly over her heart, watching him with hollow eyes.

Rand reached the rubble and stopped.

He didn’t kneel, didn’t shift aside a single stone. He just stood there, eyes locked on the destruction before him. Elyndria reached his side, searching his face.

It was blank

No grief, no horror, not even shock.

Just absence.

Her hand found his arm gently. “Rand,” she whispered again, afraid of what he might say—more afraid of what he wouldn’t.

But he didn’t move. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest proved he was still breathing. Rand stood like stone for a long moment, the wreckage before him vast and final. Then—wordlessly, without even a flicker of expression—he raised a hand.

Saidin rose.

It flared in him, bright and sharp and terrible, and the very air groaned with its weight.

Elyndria could feel it—roaring in the weave of the world, hot against her skin. Then the stones began to shift. At first, it was a whisper—grinding, trembling. Then a roar, as heavy slabs of rock and shattered timber lifted into the air, some crumbling to dust, others flying to the side like leaves caught in a storm.

Rand’s face stayed still, his eyes locked ahead, as the wreckage peeled away under his will.

Aviendha let out a sharp breath behind them. Elyndria could only stare, frozen, as layer after layer was peeled back until—

She saw her.

Alsera.

A small, crumpled shape half-buried under a shattered beam. Red hair matted with dust. A single hand peeking through, limp and unmoving.

Elyndria’s breath hitched. “Light, no,” she whispered.

Her knees nearly gave out, a sob escaping her lips. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled forward, but Rand was already moving.

The power faded abruptly, the silence afterward deafening. Rand knelt beside Alsera with trembling hands, brushing aside debris with aching gentleness. His fingers hovered over her brow, then under her shoulders, lifting her slowly, as though too sudden a movement might wake her. Like she was only sleeping

Elyndria could see the trembling in his arms now, in the way his jaw clenched. He pulled her to his chest, cradling her with a reverence that shattered Elyndria’s heart.

Then the sound came.

A low, ragged, tortured cry.

It ripped out of Rand's throat like it had been building for years—raw and broken.

His face twisted, the emotion finally breaking through the stillness. Grief poured through the bond like a wave, heavy and consuming.

“Hey, Alsera,” he whispered , almost as if she might answer. His lips trembled. “Alsera?” His voice cracked and broke as he sobbed her name once more, his arms tightening instinctively around her. “No… no…”

He tried to stand—his legs moved beneath him like they had forgotten how—but as he took a single step away from the rubble, he collapsed onto his knees with a thud that echoed through the devastated courtyard.

Dust curled around him like mist.

He didn’t look up. His head bowed over Alsera, red strands of her hair caught in the fabric of his shirt.

Behind him, Aviendha stood still, a spear in one hand, her other clenched at her side.
Her throat worked as if trying to swallow something sharp, and though her eyes were dry, her voice was thick with sorrow.

“Life is a dream from which we all must wake.”

“No,” Rand sobbed, a raw, broken sound. “No…”

He rocked forward, then back, his breaths uneven.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “Breathe.”

The word became a prayer.

A plea.

“Breathe… Breathe!” he cried again, louder this time, almost a command—as if the force of his will alone could draw air into Alsera’s still lungs.

Elyndria stood frozen, halfway between Aviendha and Egwene. Her knees wouldn’t move. Her lips trembled. Her arms hung limply at her sides. She stared at Rand, holding Alsera like the last thing anchoring him to the world—and something inside her cracked.

It was exactly like her nightmares.

The ones where Lews Therin wept over the bodies of the children. The echo of history, bleeding into the present.

A wheel turning endlessly.

Elyndria’s lips parted, but no sound came. Her chest ached—tight and breathless—as though grief itself had wrapped around her ribs like a band.

She felt Egwene beside her, shifting slightly, unsure if she should go forward. Aviendha was motionless, her eyes locked on Rand with a kind of grim understanding.

Then Elyndria saw them—Moiraine and Lan, approaching from the far side. Moiraine's face was unreadable but pale, her blue eyes filled with an intensity Elyndria had seen only a few times before. Lan's brows were furrowed, his jaw tight as he started toward Rand—but Moiraine lifted a hand and halted him, her arm blocking his path.

“Wait,” she murmured softly, her voice barely more than a breath.

And Elyndria felt it.

Saidin.

Elyndria felt him through the bond—a torrent of anguish surging beneath the surface. But there was something else rising too.

Something vast.

Terrible.

The hair on her arms stood on end. The air grew heavy, like the sky before a lightning storm. Energy prickled across her skin. She couldn’t see the weaves—only feel the pulse of Power through the bond, wild and burning.

Rand's head was bowed, rocking with Alsera in his arms. “Breathe,” he whispered, again and again. “Breathe. Please.”

The dust around him stirred. Tiny rocks shifted on the ground. Elyndria couldn’t see what he was doing, but the world around him responded. And still he rocked. A shudder went through him.

Through the bond, Elyndria felt the surge—wild, raw, radiant and burning. He was drawing more. Too much.

“Rand…” she whispered, a plea caught on the edge of fear.

Then his voice broke across the rubble, filled with agony and fury.

“BREATHE!”

“Rand…” Elyndria’s voice cracked as she tried to move forward, but her legs wouldn’t obey. Her knees trembled. The sight before her held her in place, the bond burning like fire beneath her skin.

“Rand, you can’t.” Egwene stepped forward instead, her voice thick with tears. “She—she’s gone. Death can’t be healed.”

Rand didn’t look up. He clutched Alsera’s tiny, lifeless body tighter against his chest, rocking harder now. His voice broke open, raw and ragged.

“I can do ANYTHING!”

The ground trembled.

“What does the prophecy say?” he sobbed. “Tell me what it says—tell me what the bloody prophecy says!” He laughed then—a horrible, breaking sound that cracked through the heavy silence. “I bring destruction…” His voice lowered, trembling. “But also creation.”

Elyndria felt the bond pull taut—wild, unstable.

She may not be able to see his weaves, but she could feel it tearing through the air around him. The world itself felt like it might unravel if he pulled any harder.

“Rand, stop!” she cried, stumbling toward him. “You’ll destroy yourself! You’ll—”

“Breathe now, Alsera,” he whispered, ignoring her. His eyes were locked on the girl’s pale, still face. “Breathe. Breathe. Alsera, breathe…” He pressed his lips to her forehead, his shoulders shaking. “Please.”

The One Power wrapped around him like a storm, invisible to Elyndria’s eyes but crashing against her senses like waves against stone.

Egwene took a step back, her own face pale with horror.

Moiraine’s voice came, low and strained. “He’s going to burn himself out. Or worse.”

Elyndria couldn’t breathe. She was frozen in place, her heart slamming in her chest as Rand’s anguish poured through the bond like molten steel. 

And still he whispered—over and over.

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

Moiraine moved with the grace of inevitability, her steps sure and swift as she approached. Her face was pale but composed, her eyes deep pools of calm that belied the tension in her spine. She did not flinch at the sight of Rand—kneeling, broken, with Alsera’s lifeless form cradled in his arms and the raw, blinding pulse of saidin still storming around him like a beast trying to claw its way free.

“Rand, you cannot do this,” she said, voice low, urgent, cutting through the thick air like a knife through cloth.

But Rand didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on Alsera’s face, her small head tucked against his chest, her red locks covered by dust and blood. His arms trembled around her, but he held her as though she might disappear if he let go—as though he hadn’t already lost her.

Moiraine drew in a slow, steadying breath.

Her hand rose, trembling slightly as it hovered for a moment, then came to rest gently on his shoulder.

“Rand,” she said again, quieter now, softer.

And then—saidin vanished.

The storm receded in an instant, leaving silence in its wake, a sudden stillness so complete it rang in Elyndria’s ears like a bell struck too hard.

She gasped quietly, the knot in her chest loosening just enough to breathe again.

Beside her, Egwene’s hand trembled in hers, and Aviendha let out a slow, unsteady exhale.

The three of them stood together, bruised and cut and shaking, bound not by weaves or oaths but by the shock and sorrow of what they’d just witnessed. Elyndria hadn’t even realized she had taken their hands.

Moiraine knelt beside Rand slowly, letting her skirts pool in the rubble and ash without care. She glanced toward the crumbled remains of the building, then looked back at him—at the Dragon Reborn, not with fear or revulsion, but with quiet understanding. A flicker of sorrow touched her gaze, but she said nothing else.

Rand finally turned to her, his face streaked with tears and blood and soot. His eyes were wide and glassy, the light in them unmoored, like he was still caught somewhere between this moment and another lifetime.

A quiet, broken sound escaped him—a sound Elyndria felt deep in her bones.

She’d heard it before.

In her dreams.

In Lews Therin’s voice.

She pressed her lips together to stifle a sob.

Rand’s breath hitched and shuddered. He looked down again at Alsera, then buried his face in her hair, holding her as though love alone could rewrite the Pattern.

The silence held them all.

Not cold, not uncaring—just still. Just heavy.

Elyndria tightened her grip on her friends’ hands, the contact the only thing keeping her grounded as tears slid freely down her cheeks.

Her body ached, her ribs burned, and her soul felt splintered. Her mind whispered of the past—of children dead in a palace bathed in golden light, of a man’s scream echoing across time. She blinked hard, forcing the image away.

Moiraine’s hand stayed on Rand’s back. She did not rush him. She did not speak.

And Elyndria whispered, her voice no louder than the wind across stone, “Light… Light, help us.”

Because something had broken here—not just stone, not just flesh. Something in the Pattern had frayed.

And somehow, she knew—it had only just begun.

Chapter 34: Uncontrollable

Elyndria’s heart shattered as Rand’s pain pierced through the bond, a jagged scream that reverberated in her chest. His voice cracked, raw and fragile, and she could feel each word like a blow to her own soul. No… no, I did this. It was as though his grief had become a tangible thing, swirling through the bond, wrapping around her, suffocating her. The weight of his guilt pressed against her, almost as though she could physically feel the tremor of his body, his desperation clawing at the edges of his sanity.

“She’s so little…” His voice was fragile, a broken whisper that barely escaped his lips, but the torment in those words struck Elyndria like a physical blow. His agony wrapped around her, a tight knot in her chest that only deepened as his next words came, shaking and full of raw despair. “I should have protected her. I’m the Dragon Reborn. I should... I should have…”

His words faltered and trailed off, replaced by a gut-wrenching sob that broke the silence.

Elyndria felt the tremor of that sob reverberate through the bond, each shuddering breath of his a ripple in her own soul. She closed her eyes, struggling to breathe through the intensity of his pain. It was overwhelming—his guilt, his sorrow, pulling at her, suffocating them both. She wanted to reach for him, to say something, anything, to pull him from this sea of grief, but the words lodged painfully in her throat.

It’s not your fault, she wanted to whisper, but she knew it would never reach him now, not when his heart was so heavy with regret, so crushed beneath the weight of what he believed he had failed to do. His pain swirled in the bond, relentless, suffocating—there was no escaping it.

She could feel it all, just as he felt her presence, but in this moment, the bond felt like a cage, and the distance between them felt insurmountable.

Moiraine’s voice cut through the thick silence, calm and firm, urging Rand to let go. Her hand pressed gently against his shoulder, a soft, steady force in the storm of his emotions.

Elyndria watched, feeling the intensity of Rand’s hesitation, as he refused to release Alsera. His hands, pale and trembling, gripped the child’s lifeless body as though it were the last thing tethering him to reality.
Elyndria’s eyes blurred with unshed tears, her heart breaking as she watched him, each painful tremor of his body echoing in her own.

Then, Aviendha let go of Elyndria's hand, her presence as steady as the earth beneath them as she approached Rand. She knelt before him, the strength in her posture a stark contrast to the brokenness in his eyes.

Elyndria watched in silence as Aviendha’s gaze, filled with both sorrow and determination, met Rand’s.

“Give her to me, Rand,” Aviendha’s voice was calm, firm. It wasn’t a plea—it was a command. Elyndria felt the weight of it settle in her chest, a silent pressure that urged Rand to release the child.

Rand shook his head, his sobs breaking free, louder now, torn between his grief and his refusal to let go. “No… no, I can’t—”

“Rand.” Aviendha’s voice was softer this time, but there was no hesitation, no doubt in it. “She does not belong here. She belongs with her family. With Rhuarc. He needs to know what happened... The Wise Ones need to know.”

Elyndria felt the way Rand’s grief, his unwillingness to release Alsera, gripped at her, a painful tug in the bond that threatened to pull her under with him. The bond stretched thin, as if it might snap between them, and she could feel his hesitation, his reluctance to let go. But she could also see Aviendha’s quiet strength, her unyielding resolve.

Slowly, Rand’s hands began to loosen, his grip faltering as the pull of Aviendha’s words anchored him, even if only for a moment.

The moment stretched like an eternity, every second thick with the heaviness of Rand’s brokenness. Elyndria felt it all, his anguish, his fear, his inability to release the child he had failed.

It was a quiet, crushing kind of suffering that seemed to fill the space between them.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, only stand there, a silent witness to his pain.

And then, with a final, trembling sigh, Rand’s hands fell away, his grip weakening completely. Elyndria’s heart fractured as she watched Aviendha move, her hands gentle yet resolute as she took Alsera from Rand. She cradled the child’s small, lifeless form in her arms. 

Elyndria's breath shuddered as the tears welled up in her eyes; she looked so small.

Aviendha rose, the effort slow but steady.

The weight of Alsera’s body seemed heavy in her arms, but her movements were purposeful, as though every step she took held a deeper meaning, an unspoken promise. She turned, her face a mask of quiet pain, and walked toward the Wise Ones’ holdings, her steps resolute, but her sorrow was palpable in the way she carried the child.

Elyndria watched her disappear into the distance, and as Rand remained kneeling, his eyes locked on the spot where Alsera had been, Elyndria felt his soul fracturing. The bond between them was filled with the quiet agony of a man who could not escape the weight of his failure, who believed that he had lost something he could never regain.

In that moment, Elyndria knew that this was not just a moment of grief. This was a breaking point—a shattering of something deep inside Rand that would never fully heal.

"Rand, you must move."

Elyndria’s chest tightened as Moiraine’s words echoed through the heavy air, but Rand didn’t respond. His hands—covered in blood, trembling—were all that seemed to matter in that moment. His gaze remained fixed on them, as though they were the only thing left in the world. His eyes, once fierce with purpose, were now hollow, consumed by the weight of a guilt too vast for words.

She could feel it in the bond, his overwhelming grief twisting around her own heart, a suffocating presence that made every breath feel like a struggle.

Moiraine’s voice was firm, cutting through the silence like a knife. "Rand... Rand, you have to get up. You cannot stay there in the sand. Not with a Forsaken lying right next to you in the crumbled stone house."

But Rand didn’t move.

His body shook, but not from the cold. No, it was something deeper, something more suffocating. The guilt crushed him—an immense, unrelenting weight—and she could feel it, seeping through the bond, suffocating her too.

Moiraine sighed, a sound full of years of experience, of everything she had endured. Elyndria saw her glance toward her and Egwene, a silent plea for help. Moiraine’s face was drawn, worn from everything they had been through, but her eyes were still filled with determination.

"Help him," she said, the weariness in her voice barely veiled by her resolve.

Elyndria’s heart ached.

She nodded sharply, her throat tight. Each step toward him felt like moving through thick mud, every inch of her body heavy with the emotions swirling in the bond between her and Rand. His pain was a storm, relentless and overwhelming, and it felt like it was closing in on her from all sides.

The air around them seemed too thin, suffocating, but there was no time to hesitate.

"Rand," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper, the weight of the silence pressing down on her. She saw no flicker of recognition, no change in his expression. His gaze remained fixed on his hands. "Rand," she said louder, her voice trembling now, shaky but insistent. "You have to get up, Rand. I need you to get up, please."

Still, he didn’t respond, and her heart shattered just a little more.

She felt the emptiness inside him, felt it pressing against her own chest, and for a moment, she thought she might drown in the depth of his sorrow.

But there was no time for drowning.

He needed to move.

They needed to move.

With her breath catching in her throat, she reached out, placing her hands gently over his. The blood was sticky, cold—familiar in its way, but still foreign.

Her palms burned with the contact, but she didn’t pull back. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Rand’s eyes lifted slowly, and when they met hers, the rawness in them almost broke her. They were empty, tired, haunted.

Elyndria could feel the fracture deep within him, the sharp pain that echoed in the bond they shared. His sorrow was so vast, so all-encompassing, that for a moment, she felt as though she might disappear into it.

"You need to stand, okay?" Her voice was gentle, but firm, a quiet strength she wasn’t sure she had left. She tried to anchor him, to pull him out of that abyss of grief. "Moiraine’s right. It’s not safe for us right now with the Forsaken near us." She swallowed hard, forcing the lump in her throat down. "Please... just... just stand with me, okay?"

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Elyndria held her breath, the bond trembling with the weight of his indecision.

The air felt thick, heavy, and the seconds stretched into eternity. But then, finally, Rand’s hand twitched. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his grip on her hand loosened, and he began to rise.

It was slow—hesitant, fragile—but together, they stood. The sand beneath them was gritty and rough, but it felt solid, a grounding beneath their feet. His body shook, but there was a shift in him, a faint crack in the storm that had been consuming him. Elyndria didn’t let go of his hands. She couldn’t.

She could feel him wavering, uncertain, still consumed by the weight of what he had lost.

But they were standing.

And that was enough—for now.

Elyndria felt Rand’s weight sag heavily agsint her, his steps unsteady in the sand. His legs moved as though through deep water, each step sluggish, as if every movement was a battle he wasn’t certain he wanted to win. She tightened her grip around his waist, keeping her shoulder beneath his arm, even as her own knees threatened to buckle beneath the strain—of his body, of the bond, of everything.

Egwene stepped forward, her eyes shimmering with tears, but her face held that familiar, iron determination Elyndria had seen so many times before. Without a word, she slid her arm around Rand’s other side, supporting him from the opposite flank. Her presence steadied them both, and Elyndria let out a quiet breath of gratitude.

“What do we do now?” Egwene asked, her voice rough from crying but laced with strength.

Moiraine glanced toward the crumbled ruin where the Forsaken lay half-buried beneath stone and shadow. Her lips curled into a grimace.

“Forsaken are like cockroaches,” she said. “It takes more than force to kill them. I’ll shield him, make sure he cannot touch saidin. Perhaps… we can get some information out of him.”

Elyndria shivered despite the heat, her stomach knotting at the thought.

The battle still echoed in her blood. It hadn’t lasted long, not in the way time was measured, but it had been enough to shake her to her bones.

Moiraine looked back to Rand then, and her expression softened. “Take him to mine and Lan’s holdings. You can stay there. The Wise Ones will be here soon. They will help decide what’s to be done with the Forsaken.”

Elyndria nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She turned toward the low stone building Moiraine and Lan had claimed as theirs, a solid, weather-worn structure just beyond the edge of the fight.

Together, she and Egwene half-carried, half-guided Rand toward it. His feet dragged through the sand, catching on unseen ridges, and more than once, Elyndria had to brace herself to keep him from collapsing.

He was trembling still. Drained. The power had taken much from him—but it wasn’t just that. The swell of emotions, the sheer weight of what he had done and what it had cost, had hollowed him out.

She felt it all in the bond. His shame. His despair. The fear that he was losing himself.

You’re still here, she whispered into the bond, not with words, but with presence, with feeling. You’re not alone.

The stone dwelling before them was like a sanctuary, plain and squat and utterly ordinary. But in that moment, it was all they needed.

Elyndria pushed the door open with her shoulder, the hinges creaking softly, and together she and Egwene maneuvered Rand inside.

The air was cooler within, dim and quiet. A bedroll lay in the far corner, and Elyndria guided Rand toward it, her muscles burning from the strain.

“Easy,” she murmured, as they lowered him onto the blankets. His legs folded awkwardly beneath him, and his head sagged, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

Egwene knelt beside him, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. “He needs rest,” she said softly, her voice cracking again.

Elyndria nodded, kneeling on the other side. Her hands were still stained with Alsera’s blood, dried now, but clinging to her skin like guilt.

Rand didn’t speak. His chest rose and fell slowly, and his eyes stared at something neither of them could see.

“We’re safe now,” Elyndria whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she was saying it for Rand… or herself. Elyndria whispered the words again, softer this time, barely more than breath.  But the silence that followed was thick and heavy, pressing against her ears like a tide.

Rand made no sign that he’d heard her.

He leaned back and laid down on the bed, eyes open, unmoving—haunted. As if some vital part of him was still out there in the sand and smoke, kneeling beside the ruin of a man who had tried to kill them all.

She tightened her grip on his hand, as if that alone might be enough to tether him to the moment. Her thumb brushed across his knuckles, back and forth, steady and slow, grounding herself as much as him. His eyes slowly began to shut until he finally fell asleep.

The bond pulsed with muted sorrow, but it was quieter now—like the echoes of a bell after the ringing fades. There was pain, yes. But there was something else, too.

Stillness.

Not peace. Not yet. But the aching kind of quiet that follows grief.

Egwene drew in a slow breath and leaned back slightly, folding her hands in her lap. Her face was streaked with drying tears, but her jaw was set firm, and her eyes watched Rand with a look that was almost… searching.

“They’ve found us. The Forsaken.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept going. “We thought coming here would keep us safe, but…” She trailed off, her mouth pressing into a thin line as she swallowed hard. When she spoke again, it was barely more than a whisper. “Do you think… do you think Lanfear told the others? It could be how a forsaken knew where we were. If she’s been visiting Rand in his dreams… he could’ve told her things. Without even knowing.”

Elyndria’s breath caught at the mention of Lanfear. She felt her hands curl tighter around Rand’s. The name alone stirred something cold in her chest.

Her eyes flicked over Rand’s pale face, the faint shimmer of sweat on his brow, the tightness that lingered even in sleep. The bond between them still trembled faintly with the residue of battle, the deep-rooted ache of guilt and fear.

“I think so,” she said softly, her voice edged with sorrow and certainty. “Rand doesn’t like keeping things from the people he cares about... his friends… or those he thought were his friends.”

Egwene exhaled slowly, as if trying to let go of something too heavy to carry. “Light,” she murmured, shaking her head. “And if he trusted her—even for a moment…”

“She would use it.” Elyndria’s voice was flat, quiet, but without question. “She has used it. Lanfear doesn’t care about what Rand wants. Just what she can twist him into.”

Egwene’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. “If she’s passed on what she knows, we might not be safe here much longer. The Aiel Waste… it was supposed to be beyond their reach.”

“It still might be,” Elyndria said, though even she heard the doubt in her voice. “But if they’ve found a way to us—if Lanfear told them—then we’re going to need the Aiel more than ever.”

The silence between them stretched, heavy with everything they couldn’t say out loud.

That the world was changing faster than they could keep up. That Rand, the boy they’d once known, was being pulled in a hundred different directions—and not all of them were good.

Elyndria reached out and brushed a hand down his arm, grounding herself in the warmth of him, the reality of his breathing.

“We’ll protect him,” she said quietly. “However, we have to. We won’t let them take him. We won't let them win.”

Egwene nodded, her eyes fierce despite the tears. “No. We won’t.”

They stayed beside Rand for almost an hour, wrapped in a silence that said more than words ever could. The weight of everything that had happened, of what still might come, settled thick around them like the desert dust outside. Elyndria barely noticed the passage of time—only the slow rhythm of Rand’s breathing, the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, and the ache in her own chest that refused to ease.

She’d never felt the bond burn quite like this before. His sorrow had seeped into her bones. She could still feel the echo of saidin roaring through him, the agony of holding so much power and the guilt that followed in its wake.

Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand in steady, absent circles. It was grounding, for both of them.

Egwene let out a long, weary breath and shifted, glancing over her shoulder toward the entrance of the stone dwelling. “I’ll go check on what’s happening,” she said quietly. “Hopefully they’ve caged the Forsaken by now.”

Elyndria hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze still on Rand. She didn’t want to think about the Forsaken—not now. Not when Rand had finally begun to rest, his shoulders a fraction less tense, his breathing a little steadier.

Egwene hesitated, watching her. “Will you be okay with Rand if I go?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

Elyndria nodded, a small, gentle motion.

She looked down at Rand’s tanned hands, the same ones she had seen hold a sword with unflinching strength, the same ones that had bled for a world that barely understood him. Now, they trembled faintly in hers.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go.”

Still, Egwene didn’t move right away. Her eyes lingered on Rand, then on Elyndria—something unreadable flickering in her gaze. Maybe it was worry. Maybe it was the same ache Elyndria carried, buried deep. Then, with a final nod, she stood and quietly stepped out, her silhouette swallowed by the night's darkness.

The silence settled again, deeper now.

Elyndria stayed where she was, close to Rand, her hand in his, feeling every soft exhale of breath, every faint tremor. There was so much she wished she could say to him, but none of it felt right. Not yet.

So instead, she leaned forward just slightly, her forehead brushing gently against the side of his arm, and whispered so low even the bond barely caught it:

“I’m still here, Rand. Everything is going..."Her voice broke slightly, "it's going to okay.”

The quiet of the room pressed in close, the shadows unmoving now, thick as fog around her heart. Elyndria sat unmoving by Rand’s side, her fingers still loosely curled around his hand. His breathing was deeper now—slow and steady, each exhale a low, audible sigh.

Alone with him, she felt the silence differently. It wasn’t just the absence of noise—it was the presence of everything unspoken. Every wound tonight had left behind.

Her eyes drifted, unfocused, to the flickering candlelight on the wall, and her thoughts turned inward.

The dream with the Wise Ones hadn’t left her. It clung to the edges of her thoughts like smoke, hard to grasp but impossible to forget. The small version of herself left on the steps of the White Tower… and her mother, pale and trembling, the bones in her face too sharp, her breath wheezing softly as she looked down at her. There had been pain in her mother’s eyes—sorrow, guilt, something close to desperation. But not fear. No, not fear. Resolve.

And then she had turned away. 

Was she still alive?

Had she recovered from whatever sickness had weakened her so deeply?

Had she meant to return and simply never made it?

Had she....died?

Elyndria didn’t know.  So many questions. So few answers.

Rand stirred beside her, a soft groan rising from his chest as his head lolled slightly toward her. Elyndria blinked back into the present and looked down at him, brushing a few damp curls from his forehead. His brow was still creased, even in sleep.

And still, the ache in her chest twisted tighter.

Why hadn’t he told her?

Why had he let the connection with Lanfear grow in secret, hidden behind half-explanations?

He’d said it was friendship. That she could be good again. But it still hurt. Deeply. She could barely even think the name without bile rising in her throat.

Lanfear.

A Forsaken. A monster from stories who now wore a beautiful face and walked in dreams.

Moiraine had warned them all—Lanfear had been known even in the Age of Legends as a master of manipulation. Seductive, cunning, patient. Like a spider spinning her web around prey that thought itself safe.

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes tightly as the night washed over her again. The battle. The channeling. The moment when saidin had flared like a sun between her and Rand, its heat and fury overwhelming everything. She had felt it through the bond—not just power, but wildness. Like something alive and untamed roaring to the surface.

And afterward… the distance in him.

As if part of him had been scorched away.

Her jaw clenched, and she fought the burn in her throat. It wasn’t fair. None of it.

Her thoughts slipped then—unbidden—to Alsera.

Sweet, stubborn Alsera, who had smiled with her whole face and walked with too much pride for someone so small. Who had once told Elyndria with fierce certainty that she would become a Maiden of the Spear. Alsera, who had shared her little garden without hesitation, pointing proudly to the ripest fruits, beaming when Elyndria had praised her choices. "This one’s ready. And that one. But not that one yet—it needs more sun."

Now she would never see another sunrise.

Her breath hitched, and she curled in on herself, hands covering her face as her shoulders shook silently. Elyndria's chest tightened, ribs squeezing in with every breath like they were wrapped in iron bands. Her head pounded—sharp, rhythmic stabs behind her eyes—and her hands, still stained faintly with blood, had begun to shake.

She stared at them, wide-eyed, as her pulse roared in her ears.

Too much. It was all too much.

Alsera. Saidin. The Forsaken. Her mother’s eyes. Lanfear. Rand’s silence.

Her breath hitched in her throat and stuck there, choking her. Her heart galloped against her ribs like it wanted to break free. Her legs moved before she even realized it—snapping her upright, stumbling back from Rand’s still form.

She had to get out.

Out of that room.

Out of that weight.

The walls pressed in, too close, the candlelight too dim and flickering too fast. Her fingers fumbled with the flap in the doorway, shoving it to the side with more force than needed, and she stumbled out into the cool desert night. The air outside hit her like a slap—cool, dry, but it like with every breath she took in was filling her lungs with glass shards.

Her thoughts screamed in her head, tumbling over each other so fast she couldn’t separate them. Couldn’t grab onto anything solid.

She wandered, barely seeing, her feet carrying her past stone walls. She didn’t know where she was going—only that it had to be away. Away from Rand. Away from Egwene. From duty. From death.

The edges of her vision blurred, darkened, the stars above stretching and bending like a cracked lens. Her heart thundered louder now, every beat echoing in her temples.

The feeling in her chest built like a rising storm. It wasn’t just panic—it was something else. Something glowing. Expanding. It started as warmth, like a small flicker of light behind her ribs.

Then heat.

Then fire.

Too hot. Too hot.

She gasped, a sharp sound ripped from her throat as her knees buckled beneath her. She hit the ground hard, sand and grit biting into her palms. Her breath tore from her in ragged, uneven gasps.

It was like the world around her was fading out—noise, shapes, everything falling away.

All that was left was the burn.

Inside her chest. Her blood. Her bones.

Light, what is this? her mind whispered, terrified and breathless.

And deep within her—beneath the fear, beneath the grief—something answered.

A flicker. A pulse.

Saidar.

But it felt wilder

The weaves surged from her in a torrent of light—not summoned, but wrenched free. They poured from her skin, her chest, her fingertips like breathless sobs given form, each strand shimmering with pain. They stretched outward and upward, twisting and curling into the night sky. A lattice of light unfurled above her, branching like the limbs of a great tree. Radiant. Alive. Pulsing not with joy, but with sorrow—grief so deep it echoed in the air.

And from every branch, memories bloomed.

They weren’t beautiful.
They weren’t comforting.
They burned.

Too bright.

Elyndria flinched, squinting against the glow. She raised a trembling hand to shield her eyes, but the light pressed through her lashes, through her skin, pressing against her mind, merciless and raw. Each memory was carved into the night, vibrant and inescapable.

There—herself at twelve, standing stiffly before Saerel in the White Tower’s training chamber, trying and failing to grasp the currents of saidar. Her fingers had trembled. Her weaves had fallen apart. Saerel’s voice used to cut across the silence, sharp and cold. The words she would say rang in her head even now.

“Again. Until it obeys. Or you will not wear the shawl.”

Another memory formed, delicate and cruel. The Tower gardens. A group of boys running from her—sons of lords and dignitaries, laughing as they scattered like birds. Her novice whites had fluttered as she chased after them with a smile, only for it to fade when they turned, jeering.
“Witch,” one had called her
She remembered how another had thrown a stone that grazed her cheek

Elyndria whimpered as her eyes caught the image of her mother coming from one of the white strands.

Frail. Pale. Her body shaking with each breath. Elyndria had been sleeping, bundled in a blanket. Her mother’s hand had rested in her hair, cool and tender.

“My starlight,” she had whispered in her dream.
And then… she was gone.

The memory shifted, dissolved. Her mother’s watery smile melted into the cold stone steps of the White Tower, swallowed by silence.

The memory shifted to when she was fourteen. Alone in the testing chambers. Pain lancing through her body as she tried to hold saidar steady. They told her it was necessary—that she had to learn. She remembered screaming once. Just once. After that, she had learned silence.

The branches of light curled tighter above her, warping under the pressure of her pain.

Then Rand—his voice rising in anger, his brow furrowed in frustration as he argued with her and Egwene about Lanfear. The way his eyes had narrowed, the way disappointment had darkened his face. Like they’d failed him. Like they didn’t understand.

And then—

Oh, Light.

Lews Therin’s children.

A flash of soft brown curls.
Tiny hands.
A woman’s sobbing.
And then—blood.
So much blood.
Little bodies crumpled together like broken dolls. Their stillness. Their silence. It screamed louder than anything else.

Elyndria gasped, choking on the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She tried to pull back, to smother the weaves, to unmake the light.

But it wasn’t hers to control.

It wasn’t hers to stop.

It was hers to see.

To endure.

She collapsed forward, her hands catching her in the coarse sand. Her fingers dug into the earth as though she could anchor herself there, as though the ground could hold her together while everything inside her broke.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, unheeded. The memories burned above her, radiant and unrelenting—too bright, too cruel, too true.

And all she could do was weep.

The world was too bright.

Too loud. Too hot.

Elyndria knelt in the sand, her fingers digging deep into the earth as if it could anchor her, as if grounding her body would stop the storm raging inside.

But it didn’t.

The heat seared beneath her skin, threaded through her bones, wrapped tight around her lungs until each breath felt like fire.

She pressed her hands against her head, nails biting into her scalp, trying to muffle the thunder of her own thoughts. The memories still bloomed above her, each one like a star too close, too cruel. Painful things.

Things she hadn’t let herself feel in years.

She barely heard the footsteps. A sound—faint and distant—pushed through the roaring in her ears.

And then—

“Elyndria!”

The voice hit like a crash of water. She looked up, flinching as the memories shimmered violently in the sky above her. The weaves flared with her pain, growing brighter still.

Aviendha was there.

Kneeling in front of her, her face carved from worry and iron. Her hands were raised over her eyes, shielding against the radiance, but even so, Elyndria could see the wince on her face, the tension in her jaw. She was hurting too.

“Stop,” Aviendha commanded, her voice thick with urgency. “Elyndria, you have to stop. The light—it's burning. You’re burning.”

Elyndria’s whole body trembled. “I can’t,” she gasped, her voice cracking like glass. Her fingers clawed at her scalp as if she could pull the heat out by force. “Everything—everything hurts. It’s too much.”

Behind Aviendha, Egwene stood with her arms raised, shielding her face. The glow of the weaves lit her from all sides, casting long, desperate shadows. Her voice joined Aviendha’s, strong even as it quivered. “You’re not alone, Elyndria! You don’t have to carry this by yourself!”

But she did.

Didn’t they see?

The memories were hers. The pain. The loneliness. The betrayal. The grief of a hundred lifetimes—hers, Ilyena Therin’s, someone’s—she didn’t know anymore. They weren’t dreams. They were pieces of her soul splintering into light.

“I’m breaking,” Elyndria whispered, shaking her head, her voice so small, so raw. “I’m breaking, and I can’t stop it.”

Aviendha moved, quick and sure despite the agony in her face, and grabbed Elyndria’s shoulders, grounding her with touch alone. “Then we’ll hold the pieces with you.”

And in that moment, as the light continued to blaze, Elyndria felt it—a tether. Not to saidar. Not to the weaves spiraling from her like fireflies. But to them. To her friends. To love. To strength.

To something real.

And the light began to flicker.

A tremor rolled through Elyndria’s chest as the threads of light shuddered in the sky above her—still beautiful, still unbearably bright, but now quivering, uncertain, like a storm losing momentum. She let out a strangled breath, part sob, part gasp, and pressed her forehead against Aviendha’s shoulder, needing the solid warmth, the human steadiness.

Aviendha didn’t flinch. Despite the pain in her face, the way her skin glistened with sweat under the radiant heat, she stayed rooted. Her arms slid around Elyndria, pulling her close—not gentle, but fierce, like a warrior shielding another in battle.

“You are not breaking,” Aviendha said roughly into her ear. “You are feeling. That is not weakness. That is strength.”

Behind them, Egwene had stepped closer now, squinting through the light. Her hands were at her sides, and she was weaving something—carefully, precisely. A shield? No… something gentler. Something grounding. Elyndria could feel the thread of it brushing through the weaves spilling from her, coaxing, not forcing. A slow, firm tug against the torrent.

“I’m here too,” Egwene said, her voice low but unwavering. “We’ll help you carry it. The pain. The memories. You don’t have to hold it all alone.”

Elyndria squeezed her eyes shut. The light pressed against her from within and without, a thousand moments demanding to be seen, to be felt. But her friends were here. Their presence was like cool water against the blaze. Anchoring. Soothing. Real.

“I didn’t want anyone to see,” she whispered. “Not this. Not me like this.”

“We see you,” Egwene said. “And we’re staying.”

Bit by bit, the memories began to dim. Still glowing, still hovering like ghosts in the branches of light—but less oppressive now. As if the weaves themselves could sense Elyndria no longer needed to endure them alone.

The weaves frayed, the branches beginning to unravel, soft threads drifting upward into the stars like mist.

Aviendha’s grip on her eased, just slightly, but her hands remained on Elyndria’s arms. “Let it go now,” she said quietly. “Let the Light carry it. You’ve borne enough.”

Elyndria took a shuddering breath.

And exhaled.

With it, the remaining weaves fluttered apart, dissolving into air—no sound, no burst of power, just the gentle fading of something ancient and aching. Silence returned to the night. Cool and whole.

She slumped forward, her face still damp with tears, her hair clinging to her cheeks. She felt hollow. But not shattered. Not anymore. Aviendha was still beside her. Egwene crouched down on her other side, their faces pale but steadfast, eyes glimmering in the dark.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Elyndria whispered, her voice cracking. “But everything became too much. It just… came out. I couldn’t control it.”

Egwene reached out, gently brushing damp strands of hair from Elyndria’s temple. “We know. Light, Elyndria… we saw it. We felt it. Whatever that was—it was powerful.”

“It was you,” Aviendha said, her voice raw but steady, despite the pain still ghosting across her features. “But it wasn’t an attack. Not truly. It was pain. And it needed to be seen.”

Elyndria drew in a ragged breath, her whole body still trembling. The light was fading now, branches dissolving into nothingness, leaving only the hum of power in her veins and the hollow ache where the memories had burned too bright.

“I didn’t even know I could do that,” she admitted, blinking hard against the tears that threatened again. “I wasn’t trying to channel. It was just… in me.”

Aviendha gave a small nod. “Sometimes, the deepest things come out when we’re not looking for them. The Wise Ones say grief has its own shape of power.”

Egwene looked around at the fading glow in the air, now only flickering wisps. “You made your pain into light. Into something… real. Maybe there’s a purpose in that.”

“I don’t want this kind of power,” Elyndria murmured. “Not if it hurts people. I nearly—”

“You didn’t hurt us,” Egwene said firmly. “It startled us, yes. Scared us. But we’re here. And we’re not afraid of you.”

Elyndria finally let her gaze lift, shifting between the two of them. She wasn’t sure how to thank them—not with words—but she felt the bond between them tighten like thread pulled taut through trust. She blinked through the stinging in her eyes, her breath catching as she tried to steady herself.

Her voice came out hoarse, fragile. “How did you find me?”

Aviendha snorted, the sound almost too casual in the thick night air. “Kind of hard not to notice the light show.”

Elyndria tried to huff a laugh, but it came out broken. Egwene gave Aviendha a pointed look and nudged her shoulder with a quiet disapproval before turning back to Elyndria.

“I came back after speaking with the Wise Ones and Moiraine,” she said softly. “We were returning when we noticed you were gone from the room. That’s when we saw the light in the distance. Moiraine said it was you.”

Elyndria’s breath hitched. Her hand rose to wipe at her damp cheeks, though it did little good. “She was going to come?”

Egwene hesitated, then nodded. “She was. But… Rand.”

Elyndria’s heart stuttered at the sound of his name. “Light.” Her voice cracked as she looked up, panic clawing its way back up her throat. “Is he okay? Did he wake up?”

“No.” Egwene shook her head gently, trying to calm her. “But the Wise Ones asked Moiraine to stay, just in case he… woke up not feeling like himself.”

The meaning was clear. Elyndria didn’t need the words said aloud. If the madness had crept in, even a little, Moiraine would need to be there. Her pulse quickened. Rand needed her. She moved to rise, legs trembling beneath her.

“I should get back—”

“No.” Aviendha’s arm shot out, pulling her back down firmly.

Elyndria stumbled with a soft gasp, landing hard in the sand, her legs folding beneath her as if they’d given up too.

“You can barely stand,” Aviendha said flatly, but there was no cruelty in her voice. Only fire. Only care wrapped in sharp edges. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”

Elyndria sat there in the cool desert air, the last wisps of her lightweaving fading far above them. Her hands were shaking again. Her whole body felt like it had been cracked open and left hollow. And still, she wanted to run back to Rand’s side. To prove she was strong enough.

But maybe… for now… sitting here beside them was enough.

Elyndria stared at the sand beneath her fingers, watching as a breeze whispered across its surface. The silence lingered between the three of them for a few breaths—long enough that the tension seemed to settle into the stones around them.

Then Egwene’s voice, soft but shaken, broke it.

"What was that?” Egwene’s brow furrowed, her hands clasped together loosely in her lap. “The way the weaves worked together to create those images…” she murmured, trailing off in thought. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, her breath still shaky as she tried to keep her voice even. “I learned how to do it while waiting for Rand and Moiraine in Rhuidean. It started small, just… glimmers, shapes. I’ve been exploring it since then. The way I can bend the light. Not just bend it—shape it. Like it listens to my thoughts, my emotions. I didn’t even understand what I was doing at first.”

She glanced at Aviendha, who was studying her with narrowed eyes, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“I saw it before,” Aviendha said. “When we were practicing. With the spears and the One Power. You made illusions—shadows of yourself, light that flickered like fire. I thought it was just a trick. But what you did just now…” Her lips tightened. “That wasn’t a trick.”

Elyndria wrapped her arms around herself.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I was able to control it before, even if only barely. When we were fighting, it was just a flicker—one illusion, a distraction, nothing more. But this…” She lifted her hand, staring at her fingertips as if they might still glow. “This was different. It felt like the light pulled everything out of me. My memories, my pain, things I didn’t even realize were still there. It didn’t feel like weaving anymore. It felt like… remembering." Elyndria’s voice faded into the hush of the desert night.

The stars above shimmered faintly, distant and cold, while the warmth of Egwene and Aviendha on either side grounded her, tethered her to the now.

“Whatever it was,” Egwene breathed out, eyes still wide with the weight of what they’d seen, “it was powerful.”

Elyndria gave a small nod. Her hands curled inward in her lap, her fingers brushing together as if the warmth of that light still lingered in her skin. “Moiraine wants me to learn how to use it. To control it. She said it could become a weapon against the Shadow if I do… But if I don’t—” Her gaze dropped, fixing on the faint smudges her fingers had left in the sand. “She said if I didn’t learn how to embrace this power, it might burn through me.”

She hadn’t understood the depth of that warning until now.

Until she’d been kneeling in the dark, unable to stop the memories from tearing out of her, bright and raw and searing.

Egwene’s hand closed around hers suddenly, firm and strong. “It won’t,” she said with steel in her voice. “You’ll learn. You’re not alone, Elyndria.”

Aviendha shifted closer and gripped her other hand, her expression fierce with the quiet resolve of the Aiel. “Together,” she said, “we will learn how to embrace the One Power. We will not bend.”

The promise settled into Elyndria’s chest like a balm.

Strong.

Steady.

She didn’t need to carry it all alone.

They sat there a little longer, the three of them nestled together in the quiet aftermath. No one spoke. The wind whispered through the canyon like a lullaby, cool against their skin. Elyndria let herself breathe, really breathe, for the first time since the weaves had burst from her.

Her hands still trembled, but not from fear now—just the raw, echoing fatigue of too much emotion, too much Power.

Finally, Aviendha stood and offered Elyndria a hand. Egwene rose beside them, brushing sand from her skirts. Elyndria took the offered hand with a grateful nod, pulling herself upright. Her legs ached, her head was heavy, and every inch of her body felt hollowed out.

But she stood.

Together, they made their way back through the cool, narrow paths of Cold Rocks Hold. The stone walls loomed familiar now—comforting in their stillness. Torches flickered softly along the passageways as they approached Moiraine and Lan’s dwellings.

Lan was already outside.

He stood like a statue carved from shadow and discipline, but the moment his eyes landed on them—on Elyndria—his stance shifted. His shoulders dropped with silent relief, the tension seeping from him like melting ice. His gaze passed over Elyndria, his expression unreadable but undeniably worried.

She met his eyes and managed a small, weary smile. He gave a single nod in return, brief but reassuring.

Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled aside the flap of the tent, holding it open for them.

Egwene ducked inside first, Aviendha following close behind. Elyndria paused for just a moment, her hand brushing the edge of the fabric as she passed Lan. He said nothing, but his presence was steady, grounding.

Elyndria didn’t need words from him—not now. She stepped inside, and Lan followed silently, letting the flap fall shut behind them.

Rand lay still on the low bed, his chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths. The flickering lamplight cast soft shadows across his features, making him look even paler than usual.

Elyndria’s gaze lingered on him as they entered—his red-gold hair tousled, his face damp with sweat, his body too quiet. He looked like he was caught in some unseen battle, his rest anything but peaceful.

Beside him stood Bair, her presence as solid as ever, but her face was weighed down by something deeper than concern. Elyndria caught the glint of sorrow in her ageless eyes, the way her jaw tightened faintly as she watched over Rand.

The grief in her expression struck something sharp in Elyndria’s chest—Alsera.

The name pulsed like a bruise in her heart.

Moiraine was pacing nearby, her steps short and clipped, hands wringing at her sides—rare for someone always so composed. She froze mid-stride when the girls entered, her sharp eyes darting to Elyndria immediately.

A long breath escaped her lips as she crossed the space between them in three brisk steps.

Without hesitation, Moiraine cupped Elyndria’s face between her hands, her cool fingers pressing lightly against her skin as if to anchor her there. Her eyes searched Elyndria’s—deep and probing, but not unkind.

“The Light,” Moiraine whispered. “We saw it. Felt it. Are you all right?”

Elyndria blinked up at her, the exhaustion pulling at every part of her body. She gave a faint nod and gently drew Moiraine’s hands away from her cheeks, cradling them for a moment before letting go.

“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice was hoarse. “I… felt too much. And it just… all came out. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t control it.” She paused, her eyes flicking to Egwene and Aviendha, who stood silently behind her, their faces full of quiet solidarity. “They helped me. I only stopped because they came.”

Moiraine exhaled again, this time more slowly. Her expression softened into something halfway between relief and concern. She nodded once, slowly, then glanced toward the bed where Rand lay unmoving.

“I’m glad they found you,” Moiraine said, her voice quiet but firm. “I could feel the power from here. It was…” she paused, her gaze flicking toward the stone walls, as if the memory of it still lingered there, “powerful. Too much. Especially for you.”

Aviendha stepped forward, her brows furrowed and her stance fierce. “She couldn’t control it, Moiraine.”

The words rang with steel, her protectiveness as sharp as any blade.

Moiraine turned toward her, her expression unreadable for a heartbeat. “She’ll have to learn,” she replied, not unkindly but with a sharp edge that left no room for argument. She inhaled deeply, letting the breath calm the tension in her shoulders. “As bright and beautiful as your power is, Elyndria,” she continued, her voice softer now, “it can also bring destruction. Great gifts often carry great burdens.” She stepped closer, her eyes locking with Elyndria’s. “If you had continued to let the light consume you… I do not think you would still be standing with us.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened. The truth in those words struck deeply—not as a rebuke, but as a warning.

She nodded slowly, her voice a whisper when she finally spoke. “I know. I could feel it… burning through me.” Aviendha’s hand brushed her arm gently. Egwene stood silent on her other side, her presence grounding. “But I don’t want it to destroy anything,” Elyndria murmured, almost to herself. “I want to learn how to use it right. I want it to mean something.”

Moiraine held her gaze for a long moment. “Then we will help you learn. But you must never forget what you carry. Creation or destruction—it is the choice you make that decides which it becomes. Especially now with our fight against the shadows.”

Elyndria nodded tightly, the questions rising like a tide she could no longer hold back. Her voice was low but steady. “What happened with the Forsaken?”

Moiraine’s eyes darkened. “The Taardad have placed him in one of the outer stone holdings, away from the inner dwellings. I wove a shield around him—he cannot touch saidin.”

Elyndria’s brow furrowed in confusion. “How? We needed two full Aes Sedai to hold Logain when we captured him, and even then it was barely enough. He’s a Forsaken. How can you hold him like that alone?”

A faint smirk ghosted over Moiraine’s lips, her voice laced with quiet pride. “With the sa’angreal—the Sarkanen. It amplifies my strength enough to hold him on my own. For now.”

The breath caught in Elyndria’s chest. “And what will we do with him?” she asked, though part of her already feared the answer.

“Kill him,” Aviendha said flatly, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Aviendha,” Bair said sharply, her voice carrying a scolding weight. Aviendha bit her lip and looked down, chastened but unrelenting. Bair turned away from Rand’s sleeping form with a sigh, her eyes tired. “We will keep him prisoner. Extract whatever knowledge we can. Find out if he has companions in the Waste—other Forsaken or darkfriends. It would be foolish to assume he came alone. Especially since he had warriors by his side when he came here.”

Moiraine nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “He could perhaps become a teacher for Rand as well.”

Egwene’s head snapped toward her, her voice rising in shock. “What? You want a Forsaken to teach him to wield saidin?”

Aviendha made a disgusted sound in her throat, her face twisting.

Moiraine did not flinch. “Rand needs to learn. We cannot ignore that. He cannot learn with Elyndria—he was refusing to channel near her. He said he will not learn from me. But this… man, as twisted as he is, knows the male half of the Source.”

“He won’t learn from this Forsaken,” Elyndria said, her voice cool and certain. She walked across the tent, her steps quiet on the rugs. She sat beside Rand, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way the shadows danced across his face. Her fingers grazed gently across his scalp, fingers threading softly through his hair. Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Not like that. Not from him.”

Moiraine sighed, her breath escaping in a soft, frustrated exhale. “Elyndria, he needs to learn. You know he can’t keep fighting without understanding the power he wields. He won’t survive—none of us will—if he doesn’t learn to control saidin.”

Elyndria shook her head firmly, her gaze never leaving Rand’s pale face. “He won’t, Moiraine,” she said softly, but with conviction. “Not after what his presence caused. Not after Alsera.”

At the mention of Alsera, Bair flinched, her face twisting with the weight of unspoken grief. Elyndria’s words hung heavy in the air, and she felt the sting of loss all over again.

The image of Alsera’s lifeless body, so full of life just hours ago, was a wound that felt like it would never heal.

Elyndria gently took Rand’s hand in hers, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. The bond between them pulsed weakly, a faint thread of connection that felt as fragile as gossamer. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the intensity of the emotions that flowed through their bond—the pain, the guilt, the sadness.

Rand’s turmoil was like a storm inside her chest, threatening to tear her apart. He won’t let himself be trained, she thought, the certainty of it ringing through her.

“Not by that Forsaken,” Elyndria whispered, her voice thick with the weight of it.

Bair shifted slightly, but she said nothing more, her silence an acknowledgment of the truth Elyndria spoke. Moiraine, for all her determination, remained still, her gaze unreadable. Elyndria’s fingers tightened around Rand’s hand as if holding on to him would anchor her to the present, keep the fear of what might come next at bay.

Moiraine took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as if trying to center herself. “If it comes to that...then we will have to find another way.” Her voice was softer now, though still laced with that same urgency. “But for now, he needs rest. We all do.”

Elyndria shifted quietly, careful not to disturb him as she lay down beside Rand. The woven blankets were rough beneath her fingers, the furs carrying the faint scent of sand and smoke. She curled onto her side, facing him, her hand still gently wrapped around his. His face was peaceful in sleep, but she could feel the undercurrent of strain through the bond—tangled threads of pain, sorrow, and something deeper that she couldn’t yet name.

She let her thumb brush softly across the back of his hand one last time before closing her eyes.

The exhaustion settled over her like a blanket, thick and inescapable. Her body ached—muscles worn from the fight, from channeling, from grief. Her heart ached even more. She hadn’t realized how frayed she’d become until now, every part of her trembling on the edge of collapse.

But here, with Rand beside her, even in silence… there was comfort.

And so, she let herself drift. The sounds of the tent faded—the quiet murmurs of Moiraine and Bair, the soft rustle of Egwene’s dress, Aviendha’s even breathing near the entrance. It all blurred as Elyndria finally surrendered to sleep, the tension leaving her limbs, her mind slipping into the darkness.

Whatever came next could wait.

For now, she was here. And he was still alive.

And that was enough.

Chapter 35: Bent does not mean broken

Elyndria blinked slowly, the haze of sleep clinging stubbornly to her thoughts. Egwene’s voice had pulled her from a dreamless, heavy sleep, and now the world felt too sharp around the edges, too real. She sat up fully, rubbing her eyes again, then looked beside her—only to find the space next to her empty.

Her heart leapt in panic.

“Where’s Rand?” she asked quickly, breath catching.

“He’s safe,” Egwene reassured gently, reaching out to squeeze Elyndria’s arm. “He’s still here. He's with Moiraine and Lan right now.”

Elyndria exhaled shakily and nodded, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair. Her muscles protested as she shifted to the edge of the cot, the remnants of exhaustion still heavy in her bones.

“Why did you wake me?” she asked softly, her voice rough from sleep.

Egwene hesitated, a sad glint in her eyes as she looked down for a moment. “They’re… having the funeral. For Alsera.”

Elyndria stilled. Her lips parted, but no words came—only a tight, broken breath. “Now?” she managed, barely above a whisper. “But it only just happened… How long have I been asleep?”

“Only a few hours,” Egwene said, her voice gentle. “It’s just before dawn. The sky’s starting to lighten.” She glanced toward the tent’s flap, where the faintest blush of morning filtered in. The cold air beyond it felt heavy with grief. “The Aiel…” Egwene continued, “they don’t believe in waiting long. Aviendha said they return the body to the earth quickly. It’s tradition. A way to honor the dead and free the soul.”

Elyndria pressed her knuckles to her lips, trying to hold back the tremble that had taken her jaw. Her chest tightened, heart pounding with a sadness that felt too large to carry so soon after waking.

“Will you come?” Egwene asked quietly.

Elyndria nodded, even as tears burned behind her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I have to.”

Egwene reached for a soft, woven shawl folded nearby—one of the ones the Aiel women wore against the desert’s chill. Without a word, she draped it gently over Elyndria’s shoulders, her fingers lingering just long enough to steady her.

Elyndria clutched the fabric around herself, grateful for the warmth, for the gesture, for the small kindness in a world that suddenly felt too raw.

The early morning light painted the stony cliffs of Cold Rocks Hold in pale golds and silvers, a quiet hush lingering as Elyndria stepped out into the cool air, the chill brushing against her cheeks, sharp enough to clear the last haze of sleep from her mind. Her steps were slow, each one more difficult than the last, as if the weight in her chest was pressing her down with every breath. Egwene led the way through the winding stone paths, silent beside her.

Neither spoke. There was nothing to say.

They reached the edge of the Hold where the ground widened into a flat, open space edged by red-hued rocks. A group of Aiel stood in a loose semicircle, their expressions carved from stone—resolute, but heavy with something deeper. Grief did not show on their faces, but Elyndria had learned to see it in other ways.

Rhuarc’s hands, clenched tightly around his spear, trembled faintly. His jaw was rigid, lips drawn into a line so tight it could have been cut from the cliffs behind them. Bair and Melaine stood on either side of him, their faces unreadable, but their eyes shimmered in the soft light. Lian stood a little apart, her spine straight, but her gaze fixed on the cloth-covered body lying gently on a raised stone platform before them.

Elyndria could not see Alsera’s face, but she didn’t need to.

Aviendha stood nearby, her shoulders squared, fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t look away as Elyndria approached, only gave a short, subtle nod that spoke of shared pain and strength. Moiraine and Lan stood just behind her, solemn, hands clasped respectfully in front of them.

And Rand… Rand was there too.

His hair was tousled, his face pale and drawn, but he stood tall. Not like a leader. Not like the Dragon Reborn. Just… a man, carrying something too heavy for any one soul. His eyes found Elyndria’s, and for a moment, he looked like he might break all over again.

She reached him quietly, standing beside him as the group turned slightly to acknowledge her arrival. Elyndria lowered her head in respect, her heart aching in her chest.

Lian stepped forward, her voice steady and clear as it broke the hush of early morning. “We are here to return Alsera back to the earth.”

Elyndria held her breath.

“Though she was no Maiden of the Spear yet,” Lian continued, her face carved from stone, “she was a warrior all the same in her young body. She carried the spark of flame in her heart. She asked when she should have been silent, she laughed when others feared to, and she ran like the wind down from the Spine.”

A sharp breath escaped Egwene beside her, too soft to be heard by anyone else, but Elyndria felt the tremor in it. She bit down on her lip hard, tasting the faint copper of blood, anything to anchor herself against the wave threatening to rise inside her.

Do not cry, she reminded herself. They do not cry, not here.

Aviendha had told her that once, with quiet pride that the Aiel felt grief like any people—but to show it openly was not their way. Restraint was strength. Discipline was respect.

But her chest ached as if her ribs were splintering.

Bair stepped forward, her movements deliberate and solemn. In her hands, she carried a small amount of red dust from the sacred earth. Without a word, she placed it gently into Alsera’s still hands. Elyndria’s eyes stung, and she turned her gaze quickly, unable to bear the sight of those fingers—so small, so still—cradling the symbol of their return. She lowered her head, staring down at the ground as something cold and hollow settled inside her.

And then she felt it—Rand’s hand slipping into hers. Warm. Steady. Desperate.

The grief was pouring through the bond like sunlight breaking through stormclouds—brilliant and agonizing. His pain wasn’t loud. It didn’t shout. It breathed. It ached. And it wrapped around her heart until it beat in time with his sorrow.

“She returns to the earth,” Bair said.

“As we all must,” came the murmur of the Aiel in unison, voices low, ancient, and resolute.

A spark caught on the edge of the pyre.

The flame bloomed like a sunrise, slow at first, then building as it climbed the dry wood, turning gold to orange to red. Elyndria’s heart clenched, her fingers tightened around Rand’s. She didn’t look at the pyre.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she looked at the dust beneath her boots, the shadow of her body stretching long across the stone. Rand’s grip on her hand tightened. She could feel the anguish radiating off him like heat, the pain threatening to drown them both. And yet, he remained still, like the others. His jaw clenched, eyes locked on the fire, his soul screaming behind his silence.

Moiraine stood near Lan, her face solemn but unreadable. Aviendha’s arms were crossed, her shoulders tight, though a muscle twitched in her jaw as she stared at the flames. Egwene had her head bowed, hands clasped in front of her, lips moving silently—maybe a prayer, maybe just breathing through it. As the fire burned, the Aiel began to murmur a soft chant, one Elyndria didn’t know the words to, but it thrummed in her bones like something ancient, something primal.

A farewell to Alsera

When the flames began to settle into embers, Bair spoke again. “Alsera’s spirit returns to the earth, to the dust and wind. May her soul find shade in the hereafter.”

The others murmured the words again: “May she find shade.”

Elyndria felt her lips move, but no sound came out. The ache had grown too large, too deep. She pressed her shoulder into Rand’s and let her eyes close for just a moment, breathing in the smoke and ash, feeling it settle into her skin like a scar.

Alsera was gone.

But they were still here.

Still fighting.

Still breathing.

And in that breath, Elyndria swore—no more children will die because of this war. Not if I can help it.

Beside her, Rand swayed slightly, the grief still rolling through him. She shifted her arm, wrapping it around his back, steadying him, holding him upright the way he had done for her so many times before.

One by one, the others began to drift away—quiet shadows retreating into the early dawn, leaving nothing behind but the scent of smoke and the faint crackle of dying embers. Aviendha was the last to step back, her gaze lingering on the fire before she gave a single, solemn nod to Elyndria, then turned and followed Egwene down the winding stone path.

And then it was only them.

Rand and Elyndria.

The wind shifted gently through Cold Rocks Hold, brushing strands of hair across Elyndria’s face. She didn’t move to fix it.

The world felt too still. The silence too sacred.

Rand remained standing, his gaze fixed on the last glowing pieces of the pyre. His hand had slipped from hers somewhere in the quiet, but his presence still burned just as brightly beside her.

“She was just a child,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and low.

Elyndria turned her head, watching the way the firelight painted his face in gold and shadow. “She had a big heart,” she said softly. “And was kinder than most.”

Rand closed his eyes. “And she died because of me. I told Lanfear where we were. There’s no coincidence that the Forsaken could find us so easily.”

“No,” Elyndria whispered, stepping closer. Her fingers brushed his arm. “She died because the Shadow doesn’t care who it breaks. But you—you're still here. Still fighting. That matters, Rand.”

He didn’t respond right away. His breath hitched, barely audible, and when he finally opened his eyes again, there was something raw in them. Not just grief—but fear. Resolve. A flicker of something dangerously close to self-loathing.

“I don't know how much longer I can carry this,” he said. “All this death, Elyndria. It's going to keep piling up. I try to save them. And still…”

“You don't have to carry it alone,” she said. Her voice trembled despite herself. “You never did.”

He looked at her then—really looked at her—and she saw the cracks behind the Dragon Reborn. Just a boy who had been forced to hold the world on his shoulders.

Her hand found his again, fingers lacing tightly through his. Warmth flowed between them, not just through the bond, but something deeper. Steadier. A tether in the storm.

“I’m here,” Elyndria said. “Whatever comes, I’m not leaving you.”

Rand bowed his head, his forehead pressing gently to hers.

They stood together beside the fading pyre, where ashes rose toward the brightening sky. A girl’s spirit had returned to the earth—and in her memory, two souls stood united, carrying the weight of the world together.

"I want to look after her garden," Rand said softly, his voice distant. "As my toh to her. I can't let it go to rot."

Elyndria nodded, the grief still heavy in her chest, but a small flicker of purpose kindling in her heart. “Okay,” she said, her voice steady despite everything. “We can go there now.”

Rand nodded, casting one last, lingering glance at the pyre before turning away. His steps were slow, deliberate, as though walking with the weight of a thousand lives on his back. Elyndria fell in step beside him, the air between them quiet but filled with understanding.

They walked in silence, heading toward the garden, where a different kind of life would grow. A promise of care, of remembrance.

They walked through Cold Rocks Hold, the path now feeling even longer with the weight of the silence between them. Elyndria’s footsteps were slow, each one dragging slightly, her thoughts too heavy to keep up with her body. The early morning sun had begun to rise higher, but the coldness of the stone walls and the chill in the air still held their grip on the land. Everything felt muted, as if the Hold itself was holding its breath.

They reached the entrance to the garden—the one Elyndria had walked through only the day before, when the world had seemed so much lighter. It had been a place of laughter, of joy, where Alsera had shown her the fruit she had carefully tended, a place full of life and light.

Now, it felt hollow. The silence was deafening.

Elyndria’s heart clenched, the memory of Alsera's smile still fresh in her mind, but she pushed it aside. There was no place for grief here—not yet. Not when there was work to do.

"Did Moiraine tell you about caging the Forsaken in one of the stone holdings on the edge of the hold?" Elyndria asked, her voice tight.

Rand’s gaze flickered toward her, then away again, his jaw setting in a hard line. "Yes," he replied softly, his voice distant.

Elyndria licked her lips nervously, trying to find the words, though they felt like stones in her mouth. "Did she tell you about training him?"

"Yes," Rand replied again, but this time, his tone was more clipped, more controlled. "I won’t learn from him. I won’t learn from a Forsaken."

Elyndria slowed her pace, glancing up at him. She could feel the anger and resolve in his words, but there was something else there too—a flicker of fear. She could see it in his eyes, the way his shoulders stiffened as they walked, the tightness of his lips. He was afraid. She could feel it through the bond, like his feelings were her own. He was afraid that, no matter how hard he fought, he would eventually be forced to do things that went against everything he believed in.

Afraid that, no matter what, he would be swallowed whole by the weight of his destiny.

"You’re not alone in this," Elyndria said softly, reaching for his hand again. He didn’t pull away this time, though his grip was tight, his fingers trembling slightly. "We’ll figure this out."

Rand’s steps faltered for a moment, and he stopped, turning to face her. The look in his eyes was raw—so very venerable. "I don’t want to become like them," he whispered, the fear evident in his voice now. "I don’t want to become what I’m fighting against."

Elyndria reached up, her hand finding his cheek. "You won’t," she said firmly. "You have us. We won’t let you fall into darkness. Not like that."

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression torn between doubt and hope. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely ease.

Together, they continued toward into the garden. The garden Alsera had once tended—now a place for remembrance, even if it had to be done in the face of so much loss. Elyndria bent down to pick up a basket from the stone floor, its woven handles warm in her hands.

She looked up at Rand, handing it to him with a quiet, gentle look. “She would hate to have her fruit and vegetables wither away, wouldn’t she?” she said softly, the words carrying a bittersweet weight.

Rand snorted tiredly, a small chuckle escaping him as he took the basket. His fingers brushed against hers, and he looked at her with a mix of gratitude and sorrow.

“She would have scowled and berated us for not taking better care of it,” he muttered, his voice laced with a wisp of affection.

Elyndria smiled faintly, nodding in agreement. "I can almost hear her voice now," she said quietly, her gaze following him as he moved deeper into the garden, searching for the ripest fruit among the greenery. "She wouldn’t have let us forget it."

They worked in silence, the peaceful rhythm of the garden surrounding them. Rand peered through the tangle of vines, selecting fruits and vegetables with care. Elyndria moved between the rows, watering the plants and giving them a bit of life, even in the wake of their loss.

The stillness between them was interrupted when Rand spoke, his voice low, cautious. “Moiraine told me about what happened last night, while I was sleeping,” he said, his words slow. “What happened to you?”

Elyndria paused, her fingers resting on the edge of a wilted flower before setting the water down gently. She turned to him, her heart heavy with the weight of his concern. The memory of the night before—the overwhelming rush of light, the strain of controlling it—was still fresh, like a bruise that wouldn’t fade.

After a moment, Elyndria straightened, meeting Rand’s gaze. “I lost control of the light,” she said quietly. “It was too much… I could feel everything—the emotions, the pain, the grief—and it just... came out all at once.” Her voice faltered slightly, but she steadied herself. "I couldn’t stop it until Aviendha and Egwene found me. They helped me regain myself. Without them... I don’t know what might have happened."

Rand’s expression softened, his eyes darkening with concern. His hand tightened around the basket, but he didn’t speak at first, letting her words settle between them.

Elyndria crouched near the soft, dark soil, her fingers brushing gently against the feathery green of a fern. The cool leaves trembled slightly under her touch, or perhaps that was just her hands.

“What did the Light do?” Rand’s voice broke the stillness—low, careful.

She didn’t answer right away, her eyes fixed on the way the fern curled inwards, delicate and alive.

Finally, she said softly, “It showed memories. Ones I don’t want to remember. Ones that have caused me pain in ways I didn’t even know still lived in me.” She swallowed. “All those horrible emotions just welled up... and the Light got so bright. So hot. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like it was trying to burn it all away from the inside out.” Rand was silent beside her, his presence steady. “I don’t want that to happen again,” she whispered, fingers curling into the soil now, grounding herself. “Moiraine wanted to train with me even before this happened. Now...” She gave a small, humorless laugh. “Now I suppose you’ve got some competition. Her being a… Shadow, and all. I’m sure she’ll be keeping a very close eye on me.”

A sound escaped Rand—something between a tired huff and a chuckle. Elyndria looked up to see the faintest smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“We’ll have to suffer together, then,” he said, voice dry but warm. A pause stretched between them before he added, his eyes meeting hers with quiet certainty, “You’ll learn how to control it. You’re too smart not to.”

Elyndria smiled before she could stop herself. Not the bright kind of smile she had used yesterday while helping in the garden with Alsera, when everything felt simple and safe—but something smaller, more worn. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Elyndria sat back on her heels and closed her eyes just briefly, letting herself feel the warmth of Rand's belief in her, the weight of it soft instead of crushing. “It’s strange,” Elyndria said softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I was so sure I understood what the One Power was. What the Light was. But it feels different now. Deeper. Wilder.”

Rand tilted his head, thoughtful. “Maybe that’s a part that you'll when you're training. Learning to face those parts. Not just the power, but… what’s underneath it.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s the hardest part.”

A breeze rustled through the leaves around them, carrying the earthy scent of the garden, the faintest trace of ash still lingering in the morning air. Elyndria stepped forward and gently plucked a ripe, red fruit from one of the branches, turning it over in her hand.

“Alsera would’ve filled this basket already,” she said quietly, placing it inside. “She was quicker than both of us.”

Rand gave a soft, nostalgic laugh. “She was. And bossier.”

They fell into silence again, not uncomfortable but reflective, as they continued tending to the garden. The grief hadn’t passed, but in the soft earth and morning light, there was something healing beginning to bloom. Not peace, not yet—but the first step toward it. They worked in a quiet rhythm, the kind that didn’t need words to fill the space.

Elyndria moved carefully along the garden rows, the clay pitcher in her hand tipping just enough to offer the thirsty roots their share. She brushed the rim gently over the leaves as she passed, her knees damp from the soil, the hem of her dress streaked with earth and water.

Rand reached for another squash nestled beneath broad leaves, cradling it in his hands as if it were something fragile. He didn’t speak again, but his presence beside her was grounding, steady. There was something healing in this—tending to life, to something that had once brought joy to a child now returned to the earth.

Then—footsteps.

Elyndria looked up, hand stilling mid-pour.

Egwene stood just beyond the stone archway, her silhouette framed against the pale morning sky. She didn’t speak at first. The silence stretched, taut as a drawn bowstring. Elyndria’s eyes shifted between her and Rand, the tension between them coiling thick in the air.

Rand straightened slowly, wiping his hands against his tunic, and cleared his throat.

“My toh to Alsera,” he said, holding up the squash in his hands. His voice was low but even. “I’m looking after her garden.”

Egwene’s lips parted like she might speak, but no words came. She gave a short nod instead, swallowing hard as she looked away from him. Her eyes found Elyndria next, softer, more composed, though something flickered behind them.

“The Wise Ones want us,” she said. “We’re gathering at their dwellings.”

Elyndria nodded silently, rising from her knees and brushing the soil from her hands. She didn’t ask why. The call of the Wise Ones was not something to be delayed.

Egwene lingered for only a second longer before turning away, leaving the garden.

Elyndria looked over to Rand, watching the way his gaze lingered on the spot where Egwene had stood only moments ago. His shoulders were drawn tight beneath his shirt, tension clinging to him like smoke after fire.

“Have you spoken to her?” she asked softly. “Egwene, since…”

Rand drew in a long, slow breath, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. “No,” he said. “Moiraine and Lan were the only ones there when I woke up. Egwene was with Aviendha. I haven’t had the time to speak with her.”

Elyndria nodded slowly, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. She could feel the weight of unspoken things settling between them again—like ash drifting after a storm.

She hadn't brought up the situation about Lanfear.

Elyndria didn't know how.

Since everything had cracked and shifted like stone under too much strain. And now, with Alsera gone, the gaps felt even wider. Elyndria didn’t know how to step across them.

She smiled—tight, small, and not quite reaching her eyes. “We shouldn’t leave them all waiting.”

Rand gave a quiet nod, the ghost of that smile flickering across his lips before vanishing again.

Together, they walked through the stone paths of Cold Rocks Hold, silence wrapping around them like a fragile cloak. The air was cool, touched by the last breath of dawn, and the sound of their footsteps echoed faintly in the narrow corridors between dwellings.

When they arrived at the Wise Ones stone dwelling, a soft murmur of voices greeted them. Elyndria’s eyes swept the room—Aviendha stood near the far wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, jaw set with tension. Egwene sat beside her, hands folded in her lap, posture rigid. Bair and Melaine stood near the hearth, quiet and unreadable, their faces betraying nothing. Moiraine and Lan stood close together at the other side of the room, watching as Elyndria and Rand entered.

All conversations died the moment they stepped inside.

Rand stepped forward, his brow furrowed with the edge of restrained tension. His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “Why did you bring us here?”

The Wise Ones exchanged a look—silent communication passing between them like a ripple over still water. Then their gazes turned to Moiraine.

She stepped forward, her pale blue eyes steady as they settled on Rand. “I have been speaking with the Wise Ones,” she said. “We believe there may be a way to bring Lanfear here. To trap her.”

The room tensed.

Elyndria felt it like a shift in the air, a tightening around her chest. Before she could stop herself, the words burst out. “Is that wise? Bringing her here?” Moiraine didn’t flinch. Elyndria stepped slightly forward, her eyes narrowing with concern. “You’re already shielding one Forsaken,” she said. “And Lanfear is not weak. If she comes… can you even shield two? What if—what if one breaks free while you’re trying to hold the other?”

Moiraine inclined her head in acknowledgment, her expression unreadable. “Perhaps not,” she said plainly. “I’m not sure. But I would not be doing this alone. We can link—me, you, Egwene, Aviendha, and Bair. Together, we will have more than enough strength to shield her.”

Elyndria looked down, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. The idea of two Forsaken being so close—so near to Rand, to all of them—made her stomach twist with unease. Her breath caught as she tried to find calm, but all she could feel was the memory of fire and shadow.

Lanfear’s voice. Her power. Her obsession.

She lifted her eyes again, not quite meeting Rand’s gaze. The bond between them hummed faintly—his unease echoing her own.

Her fingers curled at her sides again, and she pressed her thumb into her palm, trying to ground herself—trying to listen, even as her instincts screamed at her to speak out.

But she stayed quiet, for now.

Rand swallowed hard, his jaw clenched with the effort to keep his voice steady. “How do we trap her then?” he asked, his voice low, cautious. “She’s smart.”

Moiraine’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer than Elyndria expected, as if weighing something behind her calm facade. Then she answered, “You will make her want to come.”

Rand’s head snapped in a shake, his expression tightening. “No,” he said, the word sharp. “No. I don’t want to see her again, Moiraine. I trusted her—”

“And she continues to believe your trust is still in her,” Moiraine cut in swiftly, her voice steady but firm. “You will communicate with her in your dreams. Say whatever you must—I don’t care. So long as it distracts her. So long as she does not believe it is a ruse. We only need her to come here.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened painfully. She opened her mouth, but the words caught. Instead, she looked at Rand, saw the flicker of revulsion in his eyes, the shame. He didn’t want this. She didn’t either.

“You will not be alone,” Melaine said then, her voice cutting gently through the haze. She turned her head slightly and nodded toward where Egwene had now sat, cross-legged, on a wide stone draped with a blanket and soft cushions.

“Egwene will enter Tel’aran’rhiod and find you in the dream,” Melaine continued. “If something goes wrong, she will get you both out.”

All eyes turned to Egwene.

Elyndria saw the way her hands gripped her knees, the small nervous twitch in her fingers. “You put too much faith in me,” Egwene said quietly, her voice barely more than a breath.

“And you put too little,” Bair replied without hesitation. Her gaze was firm but not unkind. “You have grown strong in your abilities, Egwene. You must believe in that.”

Elyndria watched Egwene nod slowly, drawing in a deep breath, her jaw steadying just slightly.  Elyndria glanced sideways at Rand. He hadn’t looked at her yet, but she felt his doubt, his guilt, rippling through the bond like smoke curling from a dying flame. The plan was dangerous. And every part of Elyndria's being resisted it.

But what choice did they truly have?

She closed her eyes briefly. Light, guide us.

Elyndria watched as Rand glanced toward the bedding, his jaw tight, a flicker of resistance in his eyes. Then, with a quiet sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, he stepped forward. Egwene was already seated, her face drawn with unease, but resolute. Rand knelt beside her, and for a moment their eyes met—something unsaid passing between them like the echo of a memory. Then they both lay back slowly on the stone, bodies tense, shoulders rigid. Rand’s hands clenched at his sides before finally settling.

Elyndria hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until their eyes fluttered closed in unison.

Bair and Melaine stood on either side, murmuring in the sharp rhythm of the Aiel tongue. Bair's fingers moved with practiced ease, weaving threads of spirit and dream into something Elyndria couldn’t quite see but felt—thick in the air like storm clouds pressing in. The last threads settled like a shimmer over Rand and Egwene, and then, with a final whispered word, both were asleep.

The dream had begun. 

Moiraine stepped back from the Wise Ones, the faint gleam of saidar lighting her fingers with the soft blue-gold sheen of Sarkanen. Her eyes flicked to Rand, unreadable, then away. Lan stood silently at her shoulder, arms folded, his gaze never straying from the sleeping forms. Aviendha paced a short step away, her spears gripped tightly, knuckles white against the polished shafts.

“You think this will work?” Aviendha asked, her voice hushed but heavy. Her steps slowed, turning toward Moiraine. “This trap?”

Elyndria looked up, her gaze flicking from Aviendha’s frown to the Blue Aes Sedai’s narrowed eyes.

“Possibly,” Moiraine answered after a moment, her tone clipped and taut. Sarkanen still hovered faintly in her hands, the glow ebbing and flaring in time with her thoughts. “Lanfear is many things. Powerful, clever. But she can be led… if one understands what she desires. And what she fears.”

“She desires Rand,” Elyndria murmured, her voice just loud enough to be heard. Her stomach churned as the words left her lips. “Or… Lews Therin.”

Moiraine nodded. “It was why she turned to the Dark One in the first place. She wanted Lews Therin to love her again. To be seen, not cast aside. That want—her hunger—is the flaw in her armor.”

Elyndria drew in a slow breath and exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. Her gaze fell to Rand’s still face. Even in sleep, his brow was slightly furrowed, a line of worry carved into his expression. She wanted to reach for his hand, but she didn’t.

“I don’t like it,” she admitted softly. “Her being so close… again. This soon after we caged one of them.”

“No one likes it,” Lan said quietly from behind them, his voice like steel drawn in the dark. “But it has to be done.”

Elyndria pressed her lips together and nodded.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling growing at the edges of her heart—like the brush of cold wind through the Waste at night. Lanfear was not a threat to be taken lightly. And bringing her here, so close to all of them, was either a brilliant move… or a ruinous one.

Light, she thought, let it be the first.

They waited in silence, the desert wind brushing softly through the quiet hold, rustling the hem of Elyndria’s cloak as she knelt beside the stone bedding. Her eyes flicked between Rand and Egwene, still and pale as statues beneath the woven blanket.

Time moved slowly, thick with tension.

Then, without warning, Rand and Egwene’s eyes snapped open in unison—wide, breathless, as if surfacing from deep water. In the same heartbeat, both sat up, then scrambled to their feet.

Rand came to stand near Aviendha and Elyndria, his face pale and drawn but blazing with certainty. Sweat clung to his brow despite the cool air. Egwene stumbled toward Bair, breathing heavily, her hands trembling slightly as she caught the Wise One’s arm.

“She’ll come for me now,” Rand said, his voice steady but low. A blade of sound that cut through the stillness.

That was all it took.

In an instant, the air shifted, the circle bursting into motion. Moiraine turned, reaching for the Source, and Elyndria felt it too—the thrum of saidar surging in her chest like a second heartbeat. She embraced it fully, the Power blooming around her, rushing through her like river-light, brilliant and terrifying. It laced her limbs in gold and heat and purpose.

Aviendha was already moving, the points of her spears lit with small tongues of flame, her stance lowered and ready. Firelight danced on her face, painting sharp lines of determination across her features.

From beside Elyndria, she felt Rand touch saidin—a raging inferno barely held in check. His presence crackled like a storm, the air near him growing heavy, charged. She could sense the weaves forming just beneath his skin, dangerous and vast. Her body tensed instinctively, despite the trust she held in him.

Even those without the gift moved with grim readiness. Lan stepped forward beside  Moiraine, his sword drawn in a single smooth motion, eyes scanning the shadows with the calm of a man long-familiar with danger. Melaine unsheathed a curved Aiel blade from her back, her jaw tight, body coiled like a spring.

Elyndria’s pulse pounded.

They waited.

A breath passed. Another.

The air thickened, expectant.

But… nothing.

No shimmer. No shadow. 

No Lanfear.

The moment stretched longer, brittle and taut. Elyndria felt the strain building inside her, her hand tightening slightly around a weave she hadn’t yet loosed. Her eyes swept the circle—Aviendha still poised, Rand like stone beside her, Egwene’s fists clenched in the fabric of her skirts, Moiraine glowing with the calm wrath of saidar.

Still… nothing.

Elyndria’s muscles ached with tension, her fingers still tingling with the remnants of weaves she hadn’t loosed. The air was thick with anticipation, but nothing stirred. No flicker of power, no whisper of silk in the wind.

Only silence.

“Where is she?” Aviendha breathed, her voice low and dangerous.

“She’s waiting,” Lan replied, eyes sharp and fixed on the stone slab as though it might shift or split beneath their feet. His sword never wavered.

Rand shook his head beside Elyndria, frustration tightening the corners of his mouth. “She’s not that patient.”

Their eyes moved between one another, uneasy, each person reading the fear behind the stillness. Elyndria shifted slightly, letting saidar dissipate from her fingertips, reluctant but knowing it couldn’t be held forever.

Then Moiraine exhaled sharply, her glow dimming. “Don’t assume you’re the only thing she wants.” Her tone was clipped, and there was a tremor beneath her calm, a rare thing for Moiraine. “If we underestimate her, we die.” She turned to the Wise Ones. “Get Rhuarc. Now. We need to leave for Alcair Dal.”

Bair’s sigh was long and measured, cutting through the thick silence. “We cannot leave straight away. More of the Tardaad are coming to Cold Rocks Hold. They will journey with us to the Gathering.”

“How long?” Moiraine asked, her voice impatient, though she already seemed to guess the answer.

“By dawn tomorrow,” Bair replied. “They should arrive before the sun fully rises. It is best to wait. To gather as many as we can.”

“It will be good,” Melaine added, stepping beside Bair, “for Rand to have the full might of the Tardaad behind him when he declares himself Car’a’carn.”

Moiraine nodded slowly, lips pressed into a thin line. “Very well,” she said, though the words tasted of reluctance. “Then we will not waste the time we’ve been given.” She turned suddenly, her gaze cutting to Elyndria and Egwene. “Come. It is time you both learn how to use the strength you possess.”

Her long blue skirts swept the floor as she strode from the Wise Ones’ hold, her hair trailing behind her like a ribbon of shadow. Egwene, with a determined look in her eyes, barely hesitated before following after.

Aviendha made to go as well, her footfall already light and certain behind Elyndria, but Bair’s voice stopped her.

“Where are you going?”

“With them,” Aviendha answered simply, lifting her chin.

Bair frowned, deep lines etching her weathered face. “The Wise Ones do not fight in battle.”

“I am not fully a Wise One, not yet,” Aviendha snapped, her voice sharp with pride. “And even if I were—” She paused, her eyes sweeping across them. “I will not sit by while Forsaken tear apart my home. I will protect it. With my spear. And with the Power.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed after them, each step a declaration. The Wise Ones looked at each other, their silence heavy, worry etched in the tightness of their mouths and the set of their shoulders. But they said nothing.

Elyndria turned to follow the others, but before she could step past the threshold of the Wise Ones' hold, a hand caught her arm. Firm, calloused fingers closed gently but insistently around her wrist.

She turned, startled, to see Rand standing there, his face shadowed in the dimming light, eyes troubled. “Do you really think… practicing with the One Power is going to help us against the Forsaken?” he asked, voice low, tight. “They’re older. Stronger. They’ve had centuries with the Power…”

His doubt wasn’t new, but tonight it wrapped around his words like a snare. Elyndria searched his eyes, seeing not only fear but something more—an ache. Of pain.

“I will not sit by while they tear the world apart, Rand,” she said calmly, with a quiet conviction that steadied her own heart. “Yes, they’re older. Stronger, in some ways. But that’s not all that matters in a fight.” She stepped closer, her voice softening, but her words held weight. “Sometimes it comes down to inner strength. To wit. Timing. Heart. I’ve seen it on the battlefield—seen the smallest edge turn the tide.”

He looked away, jaw clenched, but didn’t release her arm.

She turned her hand, slipping her fingers between his and gripping firmly, grounding him. Through the bond, she felt the roil of his thoughts—guilt, fear, a flicker of anger—but beneath it all, that spark of light that refused to die.

“You need to stop doubting yourself,” she said, voice low but fierce. “When it comes to channeling, to who you are. The world is already splintering, Rand. But you…” She paused, heart pounding. “You will either break it… or save it. Strengthen it. Don’t let your fear be the thing that shatters it.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he just stared at her. Elyndria met his gaze steadily, feeling his emotions swirl through the bond—hesitation, and something almost like resolve beginning to form, fragile but rising like the first breath after drowning.

She gave his hand one last squeeze, then let go. Without another word, she turned and strode quickly out into the twilight, her feet sure, her heart steady. Her strides lengthened as she caught sight of Aviendha ahead, and further still, Egwene and Moiraine already moving toward the open plains near Cold Rocks Hold. They were all walking toward a storm.

And Elyndria would meet it with her head held high.

---

 

The sky was high and bright as they crossed into the open plains just beyond Cold Rocks Hold. The sun beat down, unrelenting, casting sharp shadows across the dusty earth. Elyndria felt it on her skin—dry and golden—and welcomed the sting. It grounded her, reminded her this wasn’t some dream of danger. It was real. And it was coming.

Moiraine moved ahead of them with purpose, her blue skirts catching in the wind, her stride long and sure. She said nothing as she walked, but the weight of her silence carried more than words.

The land stretched endlessly before them—flat, sun-soaked, empty save for a few scattered boulders and tufts of stubborn desert grass. A place with nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Perfect for what Moiraine had in mind.

She finally stopped in the middle of the plain and turned, her face calm but resolute. “This is where we begin.”

Elyndria slowed beside Aviendha and Egwene, the three of them forming a loose line facing Moiraine. A light breeze tugged at their cloaks and hair, and in the distance, a hawk soared high in the thermals, silent and watchful.

“You already know how to draw saidar,” Moiraine said, her voice clipped, precise. “Now you must learn to use it as a blade. As a shield. As your breath.”

Her gaze flicked over them, sharp as a drawn knife. “The Forsaken will not wait for you to be ready. They will not hold back. If you are not prepared to face them, you will die—or worse. And worse is possible.”

Elyndria felt her stomach twist at those words, but she stood straighter, reaching for the Source even before Moiraine gave the signal. The warmth of saidar rushed into her, bright and alive, filling her to the fingertips. It hummed beneath her skin, making her sharper. Clearer.

Beside her, Aviendha had already embraced it too—her face set, her body as still and coiled as a spear ready to strike. Egwene hesitated just a heartbeat longer before she drew the Power, her expression narrowing with determination.

Moiraine faced Aviendha first. “Shield me.”

Aviendha didn’t wait. Her weave snapped out, threads of spirit strong and fast. Moiraine deflected it effortlessly, her own shield parting Aviendha’s like reeds in water.

“Too direct,” she said. “Again.”

Aviendha tried twice more, adjusting, but Moiraine flowed around her attacks like smoke.

Then it was Elyndria’s turn. She stepped forward, the sunlight hot on her shoulders. Moiraine gave her a nod. “Show me.”

Elyndria gathered her strength and wove a shield—gentler than Aviendha’s, more intricate. She twisted the strands of spirit like a net rather than a wall, pulling in a sliver of air to reinforce the edges. Moiraine’s expression shifted slightly, just a flicker of approval. Still, she broke through it after a few moments with a flick of her wrist and a split-second counterweave that made Elyndria blink.

“Good,” Moiraine said. “I can see you learnt well at the White Tower.”

She moved on to Egwene next, offering quiet instruction with each attempt. The training continued in cycles—shielding, weaving, redirecting, defending.

Over and over. They stumbled. They adjusted. And they grew.

Sweat beaded at the base of Elyndria’s spine, but she didn’t falter. They trained for hours beneath the sun-drenched sky, the wide plains outside Cold Rocks Hold echoing with the hum of the One Power, sharp breaths, and the soft scuff of boots in dust. One by one, they took turns sparring—shielding, attacking, defending. Egwene moved with precision, her strength raw and growing by the day. Aviendha’s strikes were fierce and instinctive, like the spear she carried—direct and deadly. Moiraine remained the storm around which they circled, composed and unrelenting.

Elyndria fought each of them, but it was Moiraine who demanded everything she had.

Their duel stretched on, the others watching in silence as wave after wave of weaves clashed and dissolved. Threads of fire met barriers of air. Shields rose and fell. Moiraine’s style was graceful, elegant, and strategic. Elyndria met it with strength and fluidity, countering her moves with calm intensity.

Her muscles burned. Sweat slid down her spine. But she didn’t falter.

Nearly half an hour passed before Moiraine finally slipped through, unraveling a decoy weave Elyndria had set and slicing through her final defense with precision.

Elyndria dropped to one knee, chest heaving, saidar slipping from her grasp like water through cupped hands. She looked up, meeting Moiraine’s gaze, and found not triumph, but respect.

“Well fought,” Moiraine said simply, brushing dust from the hem of her dress.

Elyndria pushed herself back to her feet, shoulders aching, lips quirking despite her exhaustion. “You didn’t go easy.”

Moiraine arched a brow, something close to amusement in her expression. “I never do.”

The others said nothing, but she saw it in their faces. Egwene’s wide eyes. Aviendha’s nod of quiet approval.

Her years in the White Tower had taught her the art of saidar, how to hold it, shape it, and survive it. Her time with the Green Ajah had taught her how to wield it like a blade. And here, on the cusp of war, both parts of her had come together.

She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and turned back to the others.

“Anyone up for another try?” she asked.

Aviendha smirked and stepped forward, fire already flickering along her spears. They fought until the sun dipped low in the sky, each weave and counterweave forging a deeper understanding between them—not just of the Power, but of each other.

The sky had begun to soften into hues of gold and rose, the last warmth of the sun stretching long shadows over the plains. Their bodies were sore, their limbs aching, yet none of them stopped. Not completely. The frenzy of sparring had died down, but the training continued—now quieter, more introspective.

Each of them moved in their own rhythm, testing threads of saidar, pushing boundaries, learning how to bend and not break. Egwene sat cross-legged, her eyes closed, weaving delicate strands of Spirit between her fingers. Aviendha stood firm as ever, arms raised as she guided Fire and Earth through the air like a warrior’s dance. Moiraine circled between them, her presence calm but sharp as steel, correcting posture, giving subtle guidance, her voice soft and instructive.

Elyndria stood apart, a few dozen paces from the others. Moiraine’s lessons were no longer necessary for her—not in the basics. Six years as a novice, then Accepted, then Aes Sedai… the structure of saidar lived in her bones, etched into her mind like a second language.

Instead, she let herself drift into something more instinctive. More fluid. Drawing in the Power, she focused on her lightweaving—something new, something completely hers.

She began with an image of herself. The first attempts were clumsy—figures that looked vaguely like her, but off in subtle ways. The eyes were too wide, the mouth not quite right, the light around the illusion flickering unevenly. She sighed, letting them dissolve.

Again.

She wove the image more carefully this time, narrowing her focus, shaping the threads of Illusion and Spirit and Air into something cohesive. It shimmered before her like a heat-haze, then slowly took form. By the twelfth attempt, the copies began to resemble her properly. Not perfect, but close—close enough to be unsettling. Her stance, her features, her expression.

She shaped one. Then another. And another.

Six Elyndrias now stood in a rough half-circle before her, each one mirroring her as she moved, raising her hand, tilting her head. They were like reflections in standing water, just shy of real. She walked slowly, weaving again, watching as they turned with her—silent, ghostly companions stitched from light and intent. Her heart thudded—not from fear or exertion, but from the quiet awe of what she was doing. What she was creating.

Not a weapon. Not a shield. But something strange and beautiful. Something meant for more than battle. To distract and confuse her enemies. 

She let the weaves fade, the illusions dissolving into sparks of light that drifted like fireflies across the cooling air. Across the field, Egwene looked up from her practice, curiosity flickering across her face. Aviendha turned too, brows raised. Moiraine only watched her in silence, eyes narrowed, thoughtful. The wind stirred gently, carrying with it the faintest scent of smoke from the hearths at Cold Rocks Hold. 

Moiraine looked up at the darkening sky, the sun now just a sliver on the edge of the horizon. A sigh escaped her lips, quiet but clear in the stillness that had settled over them.

“Come,” she said, brushing dust from her skirts. “It’s time to nourish our bodies with food and water before we collapse where we stand.”

Her words were met with quiet murmurs of agreement and the shuffle of tired limbs. They began the walk back across the plains, back toward Cold Rocks Hold, where the fires had already been lit and the smells of cooked meat and spiced flatbread drifted on the wind. As they approached, the sounds of the Taardad reached their ears—low laughter, the clinking of water gourds, stories shared around flickering flames. Dozens of Aiel were already gathered in loose circles, enjoying their evening meal beneath the open sky.

Aviendha broke off with barely a word, striding toward a group of young women who sat together, their spears either lying beside them or slung across their backs. Some wore the distinctive black veils that marked them as Maidens of the Spear, others not quite—perhaps apprentices, not yet sworn. Elyndria watched Aviendha greet them with a grin and a clasp to the forearms, slipping seamlessly among them with the ease of belonging.

Moiraine paused briefly, her gaze drifting across the gathered Aiel before she dipped her head in a nod and veered toward another fire. Lan sat there, speaking quietly with Rhuarc, Lian, and the other Wise Ones. The golden firelight cast his face in sharp lines, and as Moiraine approached, he shifted to make space beside him without a word. She sank down between him and Lian, her voice quiet as she joined their conversation.

Elyndria scanned the gathering, her gaze falling on a familiar shape near a smaller fire on the edge of the encampment.

Rand sat alone, shoulders hunched slightly, forearms resting on his knees. The fire beside him crackled low, casting an orange glow on his profile. His gaze was distant, fixed on something far beyond the flame. A waterskin sat untouched beside him, and his meal remained mostly uneaten.

Without hesitation, Elyndria walked toward him, her steps slow, sure. The weariness in her bones seemed to fade the closer she came to him. She sank down beside him, crossing her legs and letting the warmth of the fire brush against her skin. He didn’t look at her, but she felt his attention shift, the awareness of her presence flickering through the bond like a gentle pull.

A moment later, Egwene appeared and settled on Elyndria’s other side. Her short dark was messy from the training, strands clinging to her cheeks.

None of them spoke right away. The silence between the three of them was thick, not uncomfortable, but weighted with the ache of exhaustion and everything left unsaid. Elyndria glanced sideways at Rand. The tension still lingered in his shoulders, but something about him felt more grounded now. His hand shifted slightly, brushing against the edge of hers—not quite a touch, but enough to make her aware of it.

Then he gestured downward, toward the small wooden plates resting on a cloth near the fire. “I got you food,” he said quietly. “I figured you’d both be starving after staying out there all day.”

Egwene murmured a soft, “Thank you,” her eyes lowered as she accepted the plate and began eating in small, focused bites.

Elyndria’s stomach gave a rather ungraceful rumble, and she couldn’t help a grateful smile as she picked up her own plate.

“Thank you,” she said, sincerely. The scent of roasted meat and flatbread made her feel even hungrier. She took a bite quickly, the warmth and salt grounding her.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Elyndria tilted her head toward Rand. “What did you do while we were gone?”

Rand shrugged, the movement casual, but his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “Rhuarc and the Wise Ones kept teaching me about Aiel customs. Traditions. What it means to be Car’a’carn.”

He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “After that… I spoke with the Forsaken.”

Egwene froze mid-bite, and Elyndria stilled with her bread halfway to her mouth.

“You what?” she asked, carefully setting her food down. “What happened?”

“His name is Sammael,” Rand said, his tone almost too even. “The scar on his face… it was given to him by Lews Therin.”

Egwene snorted, unimpressed. “I suppose that means he doesn’t like you very much.”

Rand gave a faint chuckle, but there was no amusement in it. “No. Not exactly warm hospitality.” His fingers tightened slightly around his plate. “Don’t see how Moiraine ever thought he might teach me anything. He didn’t say much. Refused to explain how he knew we were here. Avoided most of what I asked.”

“I think we all know how he knew,” Egwene muttered, her voice sharp and low.

A heavy silence fell again, darker now. Elyndria set her food aside completely, no longer hungry. Her fingers curled around her knees as she looked into the firelight, its flickers dancing across Rand’s face.

The bond between them thrummed softly in the background, and beneath the tension, she could feel the storm still coiled in him.

Elyndria sat utterly still, her plate forgotten beside her, the fire’s warmth brushing her face but never quite reaching the chill that settled in her chest. Rand’s words cracked in the air like dry branches underfoot, brittle with guilt.

“I know why he knew where we were, okay,” he said, eyes heavy with something more than exhaustion. “I… I shouldn’t have trusted Lanfear like I did—”

“No, you shouldn’t have, Rand,” Egwene snapped, frustration flaring sharp and sudden. “Why would you even interact with her? A Dark One’s soldier. A Forsaken. The worst of the worst! You treated her like a friend. Like you would treat Perrin or Mat.”

Elyndria didn’t move, didn’t speak. She could feel the pulse of emotion through the bond—Rand’s guilt, his shame, the storm of it pressing against her ribs like a rising tide.

“She understood things,” Rand said, voice tight. “About me. Things that you wouldn’t be able to—”

“I would have tried!” Egwene exclaimed, her voice cracking like a whip. “Because that’s what friends do, Rand. They reach for each other. They try.”

Rand turned his face away, jaw clenched, the flickering firelight glinting off his lashes. Elyndria felt it more keenly than she saw it—the way his walls buckled under the weight. “I didn’t mean for all this to happen,” he said, and his voice—Light, his voice—was barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He looked at Egwene, then at Elyndria, his eyes shining but dry.

Elyndria’s fingers dug into the fabric of her skirts. Her heart beat hard, painfully slow.

The images that Lanfear had conjured still rose unbidden sometimes—twisted versions of a past home, of faces she had loved. She remembered waking up, chest tight, throat raw, the taste of fear like ash on her tongue. But worse than the dreams was the isolation—the feeling that no one else could understand, not truly. And now here Rand sat, with that same hollowness carved into his face.

The bond between them thrummed, deeper than pain. She could feel him fraying at the edges—regret, shame, a desperate need for forgiveness and the certainty that he did not deserve it.

Elyndria’s gaze never wavered from Rand as the words hung in the air between them. The tension was thick, but the truth was undeniable—no matter how much he regretted it, no matter how much he was sorry, he had let Lanfear into his life, and that was something that couldn't be erased easily. The bond between them hummed like an unanswered question, its weight heavy on her chest.

She glanced over at Egwene, who sat stiff beside her, her lips pressed tight as if holding back something sharper. It was clear that neither of them had fully forgiven him when it came to Lanfear. But Elyndria understood that the dreams, the torment, the manipulations—they hadn’t been his doing. Lanfear had been the one pulling the strings. But even now, knowing that Lanfear had woven those nightmares into her dreams, Elyndria couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal—because Rand had let her in, had let the Forsaken grow close.

The silence stretched again, and it was a tight one, each of them wrestling with their own emotions.

Elyndria’s heart ached for him, but also for the hurt they had all endured. Her own pain was a distant echo now, but it was still there, simmering quietly under the surface. The worst part was that she couldn’t tell if he even realized how much damage he had done by letting Lanfear get so close to him. Or perhaps, it wasn’t that—perhaps it was that Rand had been so desperate to find understanding, to find someone who could see past his burdens, that he had let the wrong person into his life.

But that was over now.

She turned her attention back to him, watching as he finally broke the silence. “I didn’t know what she was doing to your dreams, the things she put you through,” he said quietly, his voice shaky.

The words hit her like a sharp gust of wind, and despite herself, Elyndria softened. She could feel the weight of his apology, and she saw the truth of it—the fact that Lanfear’s manipulations had been the driving force, not Rand’s intentions. He had been used. And there was nothing more painful than realizing you had been someone’s pawn.

But still, the hurt lingered. She closed her eyes for a moment, then met his gaze again, the bond thrumming gently, a soft reminder of their connection.

“I know,” she said quietly. Her voice was steady, though her heart was far from calm. “It wasn’t your fault, Rand. But you have to understand, it doesn’t change what happened. You can’t just ignore the fact that you allowed her in.” She swallowed, the words hard but necessary. “I can’t forget that, not right away.”

Egwene nodded beside her, her face tight with unspoken emotions. “It’s not just about forgiveness, Rand. It’s about trust. And you broke that, whether you intended to or not.”

Rand’s gaze dropped, a shadow crossing his face. The apology in his eyes deepened, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to undo the damage.

Elyndria’s fingers tightened into her palms. She wanted to say more, wanted to explain the pain that still lingered, but she knew now wasn’t the time. Not when he was already so torn. “Maybe we’ll forgive you in time about Lanfear,” she said softly, each word heavy with the weight of their shared experiences. “But it’ll take time, Rand.”

Egwene gave a small nod, her eyes sad but resolute. “We’ll move forward, for the world, for everyone. But right now, we need to heal. All of us.”

Rand seemed to brace himself under their words, but Elyndria could see the recognition in his eyes. He wasn’t going to get off easy. Not this time. He would have to prove himself, not just to them, but to himself. And maybe, just maybe, that was the hardest part. The fire crackled between them, the silence now comfortable, though still heavy with the weight of things unsaid. They sat there, three souls tethered together by their shared experiences, the bond between them thick with memories and the promise of what might come next.

The fire crackled softly as the conversation between the three of them drifted on, the words now slower, more deliberate. It was as if the weight of their earlier discussion still hung in the air, and none of them quite knew how to move past it. Despite the unease between them, the bond between them remained intact, though slightly strained. It was like a thread stretched taut—still strong, but vulnerable to snapping under pressure.

Elyndria found herself quietly picking at the remains of her food, her mind wandering as she tried to process everything that had been said. There was still so much tension between them, unspoken feelings that hadn’t quite found their place. But as the minutes passed, the tension gradually softened. Rand’s silence wasn’t uncomfortable anymore—it was just... his silence. He seemed lost in thought, the weariness of the day settling into his features, and Elyndria couldn’t help but feel for him. She could feel his emotions through the bond—regret still simmering beneath his exhaustion, but something else, too. A flicker of resolve, like he was beginning to accept that the road ahead would not be easy.

Egwene’s voice broke through her thoughts, soft and tired. “I’ll head back to my holdings with Aviendha,” she said, her face pale with exhaustion, the weight of the day settling heavily on her shoulders. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

Elyndria nodded, offering a small smile of understanding. She didn’t need to say much—Egwene was tired, and though she hadn’t fully forgiven Rand, there was a quiet grace in her departure. The bond between the three of them wasn’t broken, but it had shifted. There would be time, she knew, for healing.

The silence lingered a little longer, until Lan and Moiraine wandered over to where they sat. Lan’s sharp eyes trailing over their weary expressions, and Moiraine spoke up with her usual calm. “You will share our dwellings for the night. There is enough room. Lan and I shall share a bed in the main room while Elyndria and Rand will sleep upstairs.”

Elyndria stood with a quiet sigh, brushing her fingers lightly against Rand’s as she passed him. It was a fleeting connection—barely a touch—but the warmth of it lingered as they made their way to the stone hold, they would be staying in for the night. Moiraine and Lan merely said a quite goodnight to them when they made their way inside the stone building before Elyndria and Rand ascended the stairs to the upstairs room, the soft creak of the wooden steps seemed to echo in the stillness. The room was simple but cozy, the soft light from the dying fire casting gentle shadows across the floor. Elyndria paused at the doorway, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over her. The bed looked so inviting, yet her mind was too clouded with thoughts to rest just yet.

Rand stepped into the room behind her, the door closing softly behind him. He didn’t speak immediately, his eyes drifting to the window as if searching for something beyond the glass. A quiet tension hung in the air between them, but neither of them spoke about it right away.

“I can sleep on the ground if you'd like,” Rand offered, his voice low.

Elyndria turned toward him, her heart heavy with the weight of the past two days, the bond between them pulling at her emotions. She shook her head gently, her voice steady but soft. “Of course not, Rand,” she replied. “What happened with Lanfear... it doesn’t change how I feel about you. You made a mistake. One that you have to learn from. But that mistake does not change how we feel about each other, how we care for and love each other. You will sleep in a bed tonight. By my side.”

Rand’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with something akin to disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, but Elyndria held up a hand, silencing him.

“I know you didn’t mean for things to get so... complicated,” she continued, her voice soft, but firm. “Neither did I. But we can’t change it now. We can only move forward.”

Rand’s gaze shifted to her, and Elyndria could feel the weight of his emotions pressing against her through the bond. There was so much he didn’t say, but she understood it all—the guilt, the regret, the fear of losing the people who mattered to him most.

And still, beneath it all, the flicker of resolve. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, almost as if he didn’t expect her to hear him. “For understanding.”

Elyndria met his gaze, offering a small, quiet nod. There were no grand words, no promises. There didn’t need to be. What mattered was that they were still here, still facing the world, despite everything. She let out a long, tired sigh and finally sank down onto the bed. The softness of the sheets were a welcome comfort after the tiring day. She pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, the weight of it grounding her, though her mind remained restless.

Rand followed her lead, settling beside her. The bed creaked under his weight, and Elyndria could feel the shift of the mattress as he stretched out beside her. For a moment, they lay there in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the wind outside and the distant crackle of the fire.

Elyndria’s thoughts drifted in and out of focus as the soft warmth of the bed enveloped her. She felt Rand’s presence beside her, steady, like a constant anchor. The quiet of the room surrounded them, broken only by the distant whisper of the wind against the stone walls. The weight of the day, the words exchanged, the emotions shared—everything seemed to settle into a quiet hum beneath the surface.

Rand shifted slightly beside her, his voice barely above a whisper, but it felt like it was meant only for her. “Elyndria,” he said softly, and she could hear the weight of something unspoken in the way he said her name.

She turned her head toward him, though the darkness of the room obscured his features. She could still feel him there, so close, the connection between them a thread she couldn’t escape. “Hmm?”

“I’m not sure what comes next,” Rand admitted, his voice quiet but steady. There was no bravado in it, no deflection. Just the raw truth. “Everything feels like it’s shifting too fast. And I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

Elyndria’s heart tightened at his words, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached out, her hand brushing the space between them, finding his without hesitation. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “None of us are ready for what’s coming, Rand. But you don’t have to face it alone.”

He was silent for a moment, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still awake. “I don’t know if I deserve it, though. After all that happened… after everything I did.”

Elyndria’s thumb brushed over the back of his hand, her touch soothing, as if trying to erase some of the doubt she could feel coiling in him. “You’re not perfect, Rand. None of us are. But what you did doesn’t change who you are. And it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Rand’s breath hitched slightly, and for a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the quiet hum of the world outside. Elyndria could feel the weight of his thoughts, the way they swirled inside him, fighting against the trust she was trying to offer. But she wasn’t going to push him. Not tonight. They had time.

“I’m trying to believe that,” he said quietly. “Trying to believe that I haven’t lost everything.”

Elyndria turned slightly, propping herself up on her elbow to face him more fully. “You haven’t. Not everything. Not yet.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rand didn’t look at her, but his hand still lay in hers, warm and steady.

“I don’t know how to be who I need to be,” he said, almost in a whisper. “For all of you. For the world.”

She smiled softly in the dark, though he couldn’t see it. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Rand. Not yet.” She squeezed his hand again, the connection between them feeling like a lifeline in the dark. “We’ll figure it out. Step by step.”

Rand’s voice was softer this time, as though he was finally starting to let go of the weight he had been carrying. “Thank you, Elyndria. For staying.”

Her chest ached with the raw sincerity in his words, and she leaned closer, just enough to feel the heat of his skin near hers. She didn’t say anything for a moment, simply absorbing the quiet strength he offered, even in his vulnerability. Finally, she whispered, “You don’t have to thank me, Rand. I’m here. For you. Always.”

He didn’t answer, but she could feel the shift in him—the subtle release of tension, the softening of the burden that had pressed so heavily on his shoulders. Elyndria lay back down, her body just inches away from his. She could still feel him there, the steady rhythm of his breath matching her own.

“Sleep now,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed. “We’ll face tomorrow together, whatever it brings.”

And with that, the quiet of the night enveloped them both, the soft rustle of the sheets and the distant whisper of the wind the only sounds as they drifted into sleep.

Chapter 36: Towards destiny

The sky outside was still dark when a gentle knock at the door stirred Elyndria from sleep. A moment later, Lan’s voice came low but firm through the wood.

“It’s time. Moiraine has packed your things and left them by the end of the bed. Be ready to ride before first light.”

She blinked slowly, the haze of sleep clinging to her like mist. Beside her, Rand stirred, still curled slightly toward her, their hands loosely tangled beneath the blanket. The bond between them was quiet—heavy with dreams and remnants of unspoken emotion—but steady.

Elyndria took a breath and let it go. Today, everything would change again.

She slipped from the bed quietly, her bare feet touching the cool stone floor, and crossed to the small pack Moiraine had left at the foot of the bed. It was already fastened shut, neatly prepared. Typical of her. There was no time to linger, no room for ceremony. Just movement—forward.

Rand sat up slowly, rubbing a hand through his tousled hair. He looked tired, but there was clarity in his eyes now. Determination. He met her gaze for a moment, then stood to dress without a word.

They moved in silence, but it was not the strained silence of the night before. It was the kind born of understanding—of shared purpose.

When they stepped outside, the first pale hints of dawn were just beginning to brush the horizon. The wind was cool, dry, and carried with it the scent of stone and dust. The whole of Cold Rocks Hold seemed to be awake already. They gathered in the wide courtyard at the heart of the hold. The ones staying behind were saying quiet farewells—Lian, serene and proud, standing with the women of the hold; Mothers with babes on their hips stood quietly beside elders wrapped in sun-bleached shawls. Children held their hands or peeked from behind their skirts, wide-eyed and hushed. 

Rhuarc waited near the front of the departing group, standing beside the Wise Ones. The other Taardad warriors formed a silent line behind them, veils down, spears strapped across their backs. Egwene and Aviendha joined them at the front, already prepared. Egwene’s eyes were shadowed, but steady. Aviendha’s jaw was set with quiet resolve. Elyndria fell into step beside them, Rand just behind, with Moiraine and Lan bringing up the rear.

Then came the sound.

A deep-throated chant, rough and resonant, rose from those staying behind. 

“Ji’e’toh. Walk in shade and sun. Let the sand guide your feet. Honor rides beside you.”

The departing Taardad answered with one voice, the echo rising against the stone walls like thunder cracking open the sky. Elyndria felt her throat tighten as the words wrapped around her, filled her.

Not just a farewell—but a promise. A witness. The journey ahead was long. And what waited at Alcair Dal would change the world.

She glanced once at Rand as they began to walk, their feet carrying them away from the stone hold. His face remained calm, but through the bond, she felt it all—the gravity, the fear, the hope, and the deep, rooted need to see this through.

Elyndria didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She simply walked beside him, one step at a time, toward the dawn.

The first few steps away from Cold Rocks Hold felt heavier than Elyndria expected—less like walking and more like pulling free of something deep in the sand, like memory or fate. The wind was cool and dry, brushing against her cheeks and tugging lightly at the ends of her braid as they began the journey. The sky had barely begun to pale with dawn, and behind them, the hold slowly shrank in the distance, quiet now, the voices that had seen them off fading into the stillness of the Waste.

Elyndria walked alongside Rand, Moiraine and Lan just behind, while Egwene and Aviendha moved ahead a few steps. The shifting silence between them all was companionable, broken only by the soft rhythm of feet on packed earth and the occasional clink of spear shafts or water gourds swaying against leather.

She turned slightly, glancing toward Rhuarc at the head of the group. “How long will it take?” she asked.

Rhuarc didn’t slow or look back. “Four, maybe five days,” he said. “It will give time for other chiefs to arrive as well. The Taardad from other septs will join us on the journey.”

Rand stepped up beside her, eyes forward, tone wary. “Will all the chiefs be there?”

Rhuarc’s stride remained steady, but Elyndria saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand briefly tightened around the strap of his waterskin.

“Possibly not,” he replied, voice lower. “I feel unrest, having this meeting at Alcair Dal without all of them… but time cannot wait. Not for this.”

Elyndria frowned, sensing unease not only in his words but in the way the Wise Ones walking several paces back exchanged quiet looks. Whatever was building, it was coming fast, and not everyone was ready for it.

Before she could speak again, a loud, distinctive hooting rose from beyond a ridge to the east—sharp and rhythmic, unmistakably Aiel.

All heads turned.

Figures emerged against the rising sun—first a few, then dozens, then what seemed like an unending stream. Warriors, mostly, though some Wise Ones traveled among them, veils down and strides confident. Spears flashed faintly in the light, and the line moved in practiced harmony.

Elyndria slowed, eyes wide as they poured over the rocky incline. “More Taardad?”

“Those must be the ones Rhuarc and the Wise Ones were waiting for,” Rand murmured, shading his eyes to look.

Rhuarc and several of the Wise Ones split off silently, moving ahead to meet the approaching force with the ease of leaders rejoining kin. There were no words needed between them, only gesture and presence.

Egwene stepped forward, gaze sharp as she took in the growing Aiel.

“How many Taardad are actually coming?” she asked aloud. “There has to be over two hundred Aiel over there. We’re leaving with probably… what, two hundred, maybe three hundred from Cold Rocks Hold?”

Aviendha snorted a laugh, not unkind.

“Wetlanders never truly understand how many of us there are. The Waste is vast. It hides our numbers well.” She turned, walking backward for a few paces, her tone light but proud. “There are thousands of Taardad. Ten septs at least. What you see here is only the beginning. When we reach Alcair Dal, there will be over a thousand of us—maybe more.”

“And that’s only because the call came so quickly,” she added with a grin. “If we had prepared properly, Taardad might would be more than double that.”

Egwene exhaled, eyes wide as she looked out at the growing sea of faces and sun-darkened warriors. “Light,” she murmured.

Elyndria said nothing, but she felt the truth settle deep in her bones. This wasn’t just a meeting. It was a reckoning. A storm gathering in silence, not just of people—but of history, of prophecy, and of the kind of change that cracked the spine of the world.

The approaching Taardad slowed as they neared, their movements purposeful but unhurried. There was no confusion in their ranks, no hesitation—only the silent, fluid confidence of warriors joining others in purpose. The new group merged seamlessly with their own, greetings passing in soft words and subtle gestures, spears clicking against the ground.

Elyndria stood close to Rand as the group paused, watching as Rhuarc returned from his meeting. He walked with the easy gait of a man who had spent decades in command, but there was a certain tension beneath it—like a coiled string drawn just taut enough to hum. Bair and Melaine flanked him, and between them were two newcomers.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and weathered from years of sun and battle. His brown hair was streaked with gray, and a thick scar ran from beneath his left ear down to his throat, disappearing into the folds of his cadin’sor. His face was not unfriendly, but it was carved from stone. The woman beside him was younger, perhaps not much older than Elyndria herself, with a striking calmness in her dark eyes and the unmistakable garb of a Wise One—sand-colored skirts and shawl, her gaze quiet and assessing.

As the five of them stopped before the gathered group, Rhuarc raised a hand to still the murmurs. His voice carried easily over the quiet air.

“This is Jandair, sept chief of the Green Waters Hold of the Taardad,” he said, gesturing toward the scarred man. “And this is Mairen, Wise One of the same hold.”

Jandair gave a curt nod, his eyes scanning the group, lingering on Rand and then flicking briefly to Elyndria. Mairen’s gaze followed, though hers lingered longer on Rand, curious and unreadable.

Rhuarc turned, gesturing toward Rand now.

“This is Rand al’Thor,” he said, tone neither reverent nor casual—simply firm. “His father was Aiel. His mother bore him in battle on the slopes of Dragonmount.”

Jandair’s eyes sharpened at that, and Elyndria could feel the shift in Rand through the bond—tense, wary. But he stood tall, his expression unreadable.

“Raised in the wetlands,” Rhuarc added, a slight frown on his face, as though he knew what weight the words carried. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.

It was Mairen who spoke next, her voice calm but unwavering. “But Aiel in blood,” she said. “Your scout said he went through Rhuidean.”

Rhuarc nodded once.

Elyndria felt Rand shift beside her—hesitant, uncertain for just a moment—but then he stepped forward, unfastening the sleeves of his shirt. His hands moved with slow deliberation as he pushed the fabric back to bare his forearms.

The silence was immediate and full.

There, etched in the smooth skin of his arms, the Dragons shone—golden and scaled, one wrapped around each forearm like living flame. The rising sun caught on them, making them gleam, catching even Elyndria’s breath for a heartbeat.

A murmur passed through some of the warriors behind them. Jandair’s jaw tightened, and though he said nothing, something flickered behind his eyes. Mairen stepped closer, not quite reaching out, but looking closely, her expression unreadable.

“He has the marks,” she said quietly. “The prophecy.”

Jandair stepped forward, the silence around him like a held breath. His eyes remained fixed on Rand’s forearms for a long moment, unreadable, and then slowly rose to meet Rand’s gaze. The scar along his jaw pulled slightly as his lips pressed together—thoughtful, assessing.

The man’s voice, when it came, was low and gravel-edged, carrying the weight of years and battles.

“I have known men who claimed many things,” Jandair said. “Glory, honor, blood ties they did not possess.” He looked down again, briefly, to the Dragons shining on Rand’s arms. “You have been marked by Rhuidean. That cannot be faked.” Rand remained still, his expression carefully blank, but Elyndria could feel the surge of emotion behind it through the bond—surprise, a flicker of hope, and deeper beneath, that ever-present tension that never quite left him. Jandair turned slightly, addressing the gathered warriors. “I was not born yesterday, and I do not speak lightly. But I say this now—if he is the Car’a’carn, then let him stand before Alcair Dal. Let all see him for who he is. Not a wetlander. Not a pretender. A man of Aiel blood. A man of prophecy.”

There was a murmur among the nearby warriors, a few nods from men and women both. Mairen, the young Wise One, inclined her head slightly, though her expression gave nothing away. Elyndria saw the subtle shift in Rand’s shoulders. Not a full easing of tension, but the edge of it dulled slightly. 

Jandair met Rand’s gaze once more, and this time, there was no hesitation.

“I will walk to Alcair Dal beside you,” he said. “And when the time comes, I will stand to speak in your favor.”

Elyndria let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

It was only one voice—but it was a start. A ripple in still water. And ripples, she knew, could turn into waves.

---

The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of gold and violet. The air still held the dry heat of the day, but a coolness had begun to creep into the wind, whispering over the dunes and scattered brush of the Waste.

Elyndria walked quietly beside Rand, her boots crunching softly against the hardened earth. Around them, the Taardad began to slow, wordlessly falling into the rhythm of evening—the silent efficiency of people long accustomed to traversing the vastness of the Three-fold Land.

They did not speak much, but they didn’t need to. Tents were staked. Small fires sparked into being. Spears were leaned carefully beside sleeping mats. And then the scent of dried meat, herbs, and something warm and earthy began to fill the air.

Elyndria found herself sitting beside the fire she shared with Rand, Moiraine, Lan, Aviendha, and Egwene. The fire crackled gently, its glow casting long shadows that danced over their faces, flickering like thoughts unspoken.

She held a wooden bowl in her hands, its contents simple but comforting—stewed lentils and strips of jerky softened with water and spices. She chewed slowly, sipping from her flask between bites, her gaze drifting across the circle.

Rand sat beside her, his posture relaxed but his eyes distant, as if still walking somewhere far beyond the edge of the firelight. Every now and then, she felt a flicker through the bond—weariness, thoughtfulness, something that felt like anticipation curled in his chest.

Aviendha was poking the fire with a stick, her expression unreadable but calmer than usual.  Egwene looked tired, her knees pulled up close to her chest as she ate in silence, but there was a softness to her face that hadn’t been there that morning. A sense of peace trying to settle over her. Lan crouched nearby, sharpening a dagger by firelight, the sound of stone against steel almost soothing in its rhythm. Moiraine sat with her legs tucked to the side, quiet, but with a watchful look in her eyes that Elyndria knew meant she was listening to everything, whether words were spoken or not.

No one spoke for several minutes.

It was the kind of silence that didn’t feel heavy, just worn in like an old cloak—comfortable, needed after the long day’s walk.

Finally, Aviendha spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “We made good ground today. We’ll reach Alcair Dal soon.”

Rand nodded. “Rhuarc said four, maybe five days. This makes one.”

“More septs will likely catch up before we arrive,” Moiraine murmured, cradling her cup. “It will not just be Taardad at Alcair Dal. Bair has told me that the word has traveled fast, the Shaarad, the Chareen, the Goshien—others will come.”

Egwene glanced up at that, eyes catching the light. “All to see Rand,” she said softly, “and decide if he’s truly the one.”

Rand didn’t respond right away. Elyndria could feel the tension twist faintly in the bond.

Not dread. Not fear.

But the weight of knowing.

“I don’t care if they decide,” Rand said quietly, staring into the fire. “The Pattern already has.”

Elyndria reached out and touched his hand, not grasping, just brushing her fingers over his knuckles. He didn’t look at her, but his fingers curled slightly under hers.

Elyndria stared into the fire for a while longer, watching the flicker and shift of the flames as the stars slowly emerged above, each one pricking through the darkening sky like a needle piercing cloth. The hush of the Aiel camp was like a soft blanket wrapped around them—only the distant rustle of tents, the quiet murmur of night-voices, and the occasional clink of metal broke the stillness.

She looked around at the circle. Everyone seemed caught in their own thoughts. Rand’s face was unreadable. Egwene leaned against her knees with a far-off look. Even Aviendha had gone quiet, her eyes tracking the movement of flame.

Elyndria shifted slightly on her mat, fingers brushing the worn edge of her cloak.

“Would you like to hear a story?” she asked quietly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard over the fire.

Rand blinked, turning toward her. Egwene looked over, a small smile touching her lips. Aviendha raised a brow, curious. Lan paused his sharpening. Moiraine only tilted her head, saying nothing, but her gaze met Elyndria’s as if to say, Go on.

“It’s one I read as a child,” Elyndria said, her hands already lifting slightly, fingers preparing threads of light. “From a book I nearly tore to pieces, I read it so often.”

She inhaled slowly, drawing in saidar, the warmth and joy of it flooding through her, filling every part of her being. Light blossomed at her fingertips—soft, like moonlight on fresh snow—and she began to weave.

“It begins with a star,” she said gently, her hands tracing an arc through the air. Above the fire, a small glowing point of light formed, hovering in the darkness. “A star, high above the world. One among thousands, but this one was curious. Too curious.”

The tiny star glimmered and spun, shimmering in blues and whites, before suddenly streaking downward—an illusion of flame and tail sparkling behind it.

A tiny gasp came from Egwene.

“It fell,” Elyndria continued, her voice calm, warm with memory. “Down, down, into the world of men. And when it landed, it wasn’t a star anymore.” The image shifted—where once the glowing star had hovered, now there was the tiny form of a child, cradled in the crook of a small, shining crater.“ She became a little girl. Lost, with no memory of the stars. Only starlight in her eyes and a strange pull in her chest.”

Rand watched her with wide eyes now, his expression softening. Elyndria let the illusion drift upward, creating small shapes around the girl—three other children, boys and girls, wide-eyed and brave.

“But she wasn’t alone for long. Other children found her. They didn’t understand what she was, but they knew she didn’t belong in their world.” The four small illusions, childlike in form but made of glowing strands of light, began to walk together across the air above the fire.

“They journeyed,” Elyndria said, “over rivers of glass, through forests that spoke in dreams, across lands where the wind carried memory. All to return her home.”

She twisted a final thread of light, letting it take shape as a vast sky filled with stars once more—this time, one gently pulsing space where the star-child belonged. “And in the end, they reached a hill at the edge of the world, where the stars came down to meet them. And the child looked at her friends one last time… and rose.” The illusion of the star-child lifted slowly, ascending into the night sky, her light growing until it faded into the real stars above. “They never saw her again. But sometimes, when the sky is clear, they say she still watches them. And if you’re lucky, you might catch her falling again—curious, still.”

The light unraveled slowly, gently fading into wisps of gold that shimmered once and disappeared into the smoke curling up from the fire.

No one spoke at first.

Then Aviendha muttered, almost reluctantly, “That was… not unpleasant.”

Egwene smiled, a real one this time, her eyes shining. “That was beautiful.”

Rand looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time again. His voice was quiet, but full of something tender. “I liked the ending.”

Elyndria only gave a small shrug, her cheeks warm. “Sometimes the stars fall, but it doesn’t mean they’re lost.”

Moiraine stirred beside the fire, her expression unreadable as always, though there was a softness to her gaze. “You have a gift in storytelling.”

Lan gave a small nod of agreement, his sharpening forgotten. The fire crackled on. And above them, the stars—uncaring, ancient, endless—watched in silence.

The soft glow of firelight danced across the gathered faces, casting warm shadows in the dust as laughter and low conversation began to ripple through the group. Rand was smiling at something Aviendha said, his eyes brighter than they’d been in days. Moiraine sat composed, a rare softness in her expression as she listened to Lan speak. 

Elyndria didn’t join in—she simply watched them all with a small smile on her lips, her hands folded over her knees.

It was peaceful, and more than that—it was good, this moment. Something to be remembered.

She startled slightly when she felt fingers tap lightly against her arm. Egwene leaned in, her voice quiet beneath the others.

“Your illusion… it reminded me. It reminded me of that night—when we saw your memories.” Elyndria tensed, the smile slipping from her face as her shoulders straightened. Egwene noticed and rushed to continue, her words tumbling over one another. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just—there was one I saw. A woman. She looked so much like you, but with brown hair and darker skin.”

Elyndria’s heart gave a slow, familiar ache.

She knew immediately who Egwene was talking about.

Elyndria bit her lip, glancing down. Then, slowly, she leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees and laying her cheek against them so she could meet Egwene’s gaze more softly.

“My mother,” she said. “That was the woman you saw.”

Egwene blinked, surprised. “But I thought… I thought you couldn’t remember your parents.”

“I don’t,” Elyndria said quietly. “Not really. Nothing clear. Nothing big. But when the Wise Ones were helping me, trying to guide me through what I kept seeing in my dreams… I didn’t dream of Ilyena.” Her voice turned even softer. “I dreamt of her. My mother.”

Egwene leaned closer, her expression gentle with curiosity and concern.

Elyndria continued. “Only twice. The first time was faint. All I could tell was that she was sick—weak in a bed, holding an older woman's hand.” She paused, fingers tightening slightly around her knees. “But the second dream… it was clearer.” She swallowed and let out a slow breath. “I dreamt of her leaving me. At the steps of the White Tower. Still asleep, bundled in a blanket. She kissed my forehead and whispered things to me. And then she—” Her voice caught for a moment, and she blinked hard before continuing. “She started to walk away, but she kept looking back. She was crying, like she was breaking in two just by putting one foot in front of the other. It was like she was battling herself with every step.”

Egwene reached out and gently touched her hand. “If it hurt her so much to leave you,” she asked hesitantly, “then why did she?”

Elyndria looked into the fire again, watching it flicker.

“I’ve asked myself that too,” she whispered. “Nothing in the dream really explained why she was leaving me.” Her eyes shimmered in the firelight, though no tears fell. “Whatever the reason… I think she loved me. I felt it in that dream, Egwene. She didn’t want to leave me. But she did it anyway. But she looked so sick, weak. I think there was something wrong with her.....and that even though I know her face now, her name, I don't think she'll be waiting for me."

The possibility of Amara living healthy and well did not seem like a real possibility. 

Egwene didn’t seem to know what to say at first. She held Elyndria’s hand more tightly, her thumb brushing gently over her knuckles, grounding them both in the hush that followed the confession.

The fire crackled softly between them, casting amber light over their faces.

Then, in a softer voice than before, Egwene asked, “What about your father? Did you see anything?”

Elyndria exhaled slowly and gave her head a small shake.

“No… not his face. He wasn’t in the dreams.” She lifted her gaze to the stars, as if they might hold the answers she’d never been given. “But Amara—my mother—she said something before she left me on the steps. She said that he loved me.”

There was a long pause as Elyndria gathered her thoughts. “In the dream, inside the house, there were these… musical instruments. A harp, I think. A flute, too. All covered in dust. Tucked away like they hadn’t been played in a long time.” Her voice grew distant as she remembered. “They didn’t feel like they belonged to my mother.”

Elyndria tilted her head toward Egwene, her voice a hush. “Maybe they were his. Maybe he was a musician. Or someone who loved music.”

The flames flickered, catching in the dark of her eyes, and for a moment she let herself imagine it—dusty sunbeams falling through a window, the lilting sound of strings, her tiny hands trying to pluck a melody she didn’t yet understand. A faint, forgotten warmth.

“But that’s all I have of him,” she said after a moment. “Just those instruments. And my mother’s words.”

Egwene's brows furrowed slightly, sadness in her expression, but she didn’t try to offer false comfort. Instead, she leaned her head against Elyndria’s shoulder, silent in shared understanding.

They didn’t speak for a while.

Around them, the soft murmur of voices continued—Rand laughing quietly at something Aviendha said, Moiraine and Lan speaking low, the rustle of night wind through the dunes beyond.

Eventually, Elyndria closed her eyes and listened—not just to the fire, or the wind, or the others—but to the gentle ache of memory settling into place. Not all dreams gave answers. Some only gave fragments. But even fragments could hold truth.

And that was enough. For now.

---

Elyndria stirred at the sound of soft footsteps and a gentle rustling at the edge of her blanket. She blinked into the cool hush of predawn light, the horizon painted in dusky lavender and pale gold. The air was cold against her skin, the warmth of sleep still clinging to her limbs.

Moiraine stood over them, her posture graceful yet firm.

“Wake,” the Blue Aes Sedai said softly, but with command behind the word. “All three of you. Until we reach Alcair Dal, we will train each morning before the day’s march.”

Egwene groaned faintly, rolling onto her side, while Aviendha was already pulling herself upright with a grunt, stretching like a hunting cat. Elyndria rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly, the chill biting through the thin wool of her tunic.

The rest of the camp was still asleep, the Taardad wrapped in their cloaks or still silent around the low embers of the fire. Shadows moved here and there, but none paid them any mind. This was a different kind of ritual.

Moiraine led them away from the camp, over a low rise until they were out of sight, the ground flatter there, open and bare under the slowly rising sun.

The training began immediately—no time for stretching or easing in. Moiraine sparred with Egwene first, testing her reflexes, her flows of Earth and Air, her shields and defenses. She was fierce, more confident than Elyndria remembered from their early days in Cold Rocks Hold, but still learning.

Next was Aviendha, and the clash between them was near feral—fiery, fast. Moiraine never raised her voice, never lost her calm, but Aviendha’s intensity made the air crackle. Elyndria watched, arms folded, sweat already rising on her brow as she studied the flows and tactics used.

And then it was her turn.

The desert wind tugged softly at Elyndria’s braid as she stepped forward onto the packed, dusty earth. The sky had shifted from soft lavender to burning rose, the sun’s first light breaking over the horizon and casting long shadows behind the three women who watched.

Moiraine stood with an unnatural stillness, calm as the dawn itself. But Elyndria could feel the pressure building in the space between them. It was like facing a storm just beyond the ridgeline—silent, waiting, inevitable.

“Ready?” the Blue Aes Sedai asked again.

Elyndria nodded, already embracing the Source.

Saidar rushed into her like breath after drowning. It filled her with warmth, with clarity. The world sharpened—she could feel the minute vibrations of air, the warmth of the sun rising behind her, the subtle shifts of energy as Moiraine opened herself to the Power.

Elyndria struck first.

She wove a sudden burst of Air to unbalance, followed by a flickering lance of Fire to distract, weaving the two together in a pattern that would confuse most.

Moiraine stepped aside, letting the blast pass, then answered with a sudden downward press of Spirit. Elyndria felt the weight trying to crush her knees into the earth. But she had trained for this. She twisted, rolling out of the way, severing the weave mid-air and countering with a wide arc of Fire and Earth—exploding the ground in front of Moiraine to create a cloud of sand. She darted around it, channeling a thread-thin shield of Air over her face to keep her vision clear.

Moiraine’s silhouette appeared through the dust, calm as ever. Her hand rose, and a weave of Spirit shot toward Elyndria like a spear.

Elyndria didn’t dodge—she caught the weave in midair with her own Spirit and redirected it. It splintered against a rock behind them with a snap and flash. She circled to the left, hands fluid in the air as she wove a snare of Air and Spirit around Moiraine’s legs, invisible until it was nearly done.

Moiraine’s blue eyes flickered—and then she unraveled the weave with a precise cut of Spirit, even as she sent a gust of wind hurling Elyndria back. Elyndria caught herself midair with a weave of Air beneath her feet and landed lightly, spinning into another strike.

This time she used lightweaving.

A flickering illusion of herself ran left, another darted right, and she followed up the center, a triple strike of distraction. Moiraine’s shield blocked one, her strike dissipated the second illusion, and then she found the real Elyndria directly in front of her, hands glowing with woven Fire.

The heat of it cracked the earth beneath her. Moiraine raised both hands and created a dome of Water and Air—cooling and absorbing the fire.

The steam hissed around them, filling the space between them with fog.

Elyndria closed her eyes.

She felt for Moiraine, not just with sight but with the resonance of saidar. There—a flutter of tension to the right. She struck again, weaving a snaking thread of Spirit toward Moiraine’s arm, a disruption. It landed.

For a heartbeat, Moiraine’s hand twitched. Elyndria pressed her advantage.

She launched herself forward physically this time, legs pumping, channeling Air into her limbs to push her faster. She didn’t just use the Power. She fought like she had learned in sweat and blood, alongside blades and her Grene Ajah sisters. A low, sweeping kick toward Moiraine’s legs. A feint. The Blue Aes Sedai dodged, elegant and too quick.

Moiraine let out a breath—calm, measured.

And then she moved. Faster than before. More deliberate. She lashed out with a layered weave of Air and Earth that cracked the ground beneath Elyndria’s feet. Elyndria stumbled, the rhythm breaking. Moiraine sent a net of Spirit over her then, heavier and more complex than before. Elyndria burned it away with Fire and struck back with a shattering weave of pure Air that knocked Moiraine a step back.

But only a step.

Then the real counter came.

A wall of force slammed into Elyndria’s chest—Air, focused and swift. She flew backward, struck the ground, rolled—gasping. She tried to rise—but Moiraine’s next weave landed before she could.

The world shimmered.

A binding of Spirit and Air caught her—tight, efficient, elegant in its precision. She was wrapped in it before she could even try to cut the weave. Elyndria lay on her side in the dust, her chest rising and falling quickly, sweat on her brow, fingers twitching in frustration.

“Yield,” Moiraine said again, calm as always, the faintest edge of effort in her voice.

For a long moment, Elyndria stared at her.

Then she nodded, exhaling. “Yield,” she whispered.

The bindings melted away.

She sat up slowly, wiping grit from her face, feeling the soreness in her shoulder and hip where she had hit the ground. Her breath came hard, but her eyes were still sharp. Moiraine stepped closer and held out a hand.

“You are strong,” the Blue Aes Sedai said quietly. “You fight with instinct and intelligence. You nearly had me twice.”

Elyndria accepted the hand, her chest still tight from the last blow. “But not quite,” she said with a wry smile, taking it.

“Not yet,” Moiraine replied. The sun had fully risen now, casting light over the distant camp. “But you will,” the Aes Sedai added. “If you keep pushing like this. You will.”

Elyndria swallowed, nodding, as she looked out toward the horizon. She had lost—but not badly. And more than that… she had learned. She was going to get stronger. She had to.

The training ground was quiet but tense, filled only with the distant crackle of early cooking fires and the muted voices of the few Taardad stirring in the morning haze.

Egwene was still engaged in sparring with Moiraine, her face tight with concentration as she tried to anticipate each strike, to hold her own under Moiraine’s relentless but measured assault.

Elyndria stood off to the side, brushing dust from her trousers and stretching her shoulders. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the earlier fight, and sweat still clung to the back of her neck. She rolled one shoulder, watching the others, when Aviendha approached, spears glinting faintly in the early sun.

A smirk curled on Aviendha’s lips as she stopped in front of her. “A fight between us, Green Ajah.”

Elyndria lifted an eyebrow, a grin teasing the corner of her mouth. “No spears this time, I’m afraid,” she said, spreading her empty hands in a gesture of mock surrender.

Aviendha tilted her head slightly, her grip on her spears tightening.

“Unfortunately, I will not give mine up. A Maiden’s honor, you understand,” she said with exaggerated seriousness, though her eyes were bright with excitement. “Perhaps you can make your own—like Moiraine did, with Air.”

Elyndria’s smile deepened as she looked down at her hands.

“I’ve done that before,” she murmured, her voice thoughtful. “When the fighting was too close for large weaves… when precision mattered more than power.” She paused, her fingers flexing slightly as she breathed in the morning air. But this time—this time felt different. Light pulsed faintly beneath her fingertips as she opened herself to the Source again, letting it flow into her not with urgency, but with calm, deliberate breath. The Power shimmered around her, golden and white and warm. She didn’t reach for Fire or Earth or even Air as she had done before.

She reached for Light.

Not in the sense of Fire, nor simple illumination—but in the way she had begun to shape it during her stories, her illusions, her dreams. This time, she did not weave memory or image. She shaped it—solid, bright, elegant.

Her fingers moved slowly, delicately, as threads of pure radiance formed between them. They twisted and stretched into shape, beginning to resemble a spear’s long shaft, tapering to a wicked, gleaming point. But it was no metal—no illusion either. It glowed, alive with layered weaves of Spirit, Air, and something more elusive, something Elyndria was still learning to control.

A second spear began to form in her other hand. They shimmered, not transparent but not solid, humming softly with restrained energy.

Aviendha’s eyes widened slightly. She nodded, impressed. “Spears of Light,” she said simply, admiring them. “You always surprise me.”

“They’re new,” Elyndria said, her voice lower now, almost in awe of them herself. “But they feel right.”

Aviendha’s smile turned sharp. “Let us see if they feel true in combat.”

They moved apart, circling each other slowly over the packed earth. Aviendha spun one of her spears in her hand with graceful ease, her steps light, her body coiled like a spring. Elyndria let one of her spears trail behind her, the light casting gold across the ground as she studied the other woman’s posture.

Then Aviendha struck.

She came in fast—one step, two, a blur of motion. Elyndria met the first strike with her light-spear, the two weapons clashing with a high, musical sound—like crystal on crystal. No resistance, but no give either. It sent a shiver down her arm. Elyndria turned with the movement, spinning low to avoid the second blow, and came up under Aviendha’s guard, thrusting with her left spear. Aviendha twisted, just missing the jab, and launched herself backward with a hiss of breath.

They danced like that for several moments—swift, silent, deadly. Elyndria’s spears of light glowed brighter with every strike, each movement leaving trails in the air like streaks of stars. Aviendha was relentless, but Elyndria matched her—weaving agility with instinct, channeling energy into the spears not for brute force, but for speed, for precision.

Aviendha went high—Elyndria ducked, swept low with a diagonal strike. A lock of Aviendha’s hair fluttered loose from the near miss. She laughed breathlessly.

“You’ve been holding back,” she said.

Elyndria grinned. “Only a little.”

Then Aviendha dropped one of her spears, suddenly shifting to channel—an arc of Fire slashing toward Elyndria’s feet. Elyndria leapt over it, tucking into a roll, and came up inside Aviendha’s guard, thrusting both spears forward.

Aviendha blocked one, but the other grazed her side—just enough for a shimmer of light to ripple across her waist like a crackling touch of energy.

They froze, breathing hard.

Aviendha stepped back, hand pressed to where the spear had touched. She looked down, then up, laughing softly.

“I yield,” she said with genuine respect in her voice.

Elyndria lowered the spears, letting them dissolve into threads of fading light. “You almost had me,” she replied, cheeks flushed with exertion.

“But I didn’t,” Aviendha said, still grinning. “You’re stronger than you know.”

Moiraine and Egwene had turned to watch the end of the fight, their faces shaded with quiet contemplation. Moiraine’s gaze lingered longest on Elyndria, and though her expression remained composed, there was a glint in her eyes that Elyndria couldn’t quite place—curiosity, perhaps, or something more assessing.

The training continued a while longer.

Moiraine drilled Egwene with relentless precision, her weaves of Air and Water clashing and coiling until Egwene’s brow was beaded with sweat. Aviendha sat nearby, sharpening her spears, occasionally glancing toward the horizon where the sun had now fully broken over the red dunes.

The wind carried the smell of heated stone and dust. Then, with the soft sound of boots shifting against sand, Lan appeared at the edge of their small circle.

“It is time,” he said simply. “The Taardad are packed. Rhuarc is ready to move.”

Elyndria nodded and dusted her hands against her skirt. Moiraine murmured a final word to Egwene, and the small group began making their way back toward the camp.

The journey resumed, the Taardad streaming out in orderly lines across the open Waste like quiet shadows in the morning light. Rhuarc led at the front with the other Aiel warriors, silent and purposeful. Elyndria fell into step beside Rand without needing to look for him—her feet found the rhythm naturally, as they often did now.

He glanced at her with that small, soft smile that always made something flutter in her chest.

“I was watching you all train,” he said, his voice low enough to keep between them. “I can’t see the weaves, but… you felt strong.”

Elyndria smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I felt strong,” she admitted, tilting her head toward him. “It’s getting easier to understand the lightweaving. But I suppose in other situations, it might not come so easily. Especially if—” She stopped herself, the words catching on the edge of vulnerability. “—if my emotions get too much.”

Before the doubt could creep in, Rand caught her hand. His fingers curled gently but firmly around hers, grounding her. He didn’t let go.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone certain. “Especially with Moiraine shadowing you while you lightweave.” A teasing smile tugged at his mouth.

Elyndria laughed softly, her heart warming. “Light, she’s worse than a falcon. Always watching, always judging.”

“She does care,” Rand murmured, then sighed and turned his gaze forward. His shoulders were tense again, despite the softness of their moment. “I’m going to practice as well. With saidin.” Elyndria’s eyes searched his face. “Rhuarc said the car’a’carn mark alone might not be enough for some of the clan chiefs. That I’ll need to show strength. Prove the might of my power.” He swallowed, jaw tightening. “The Wise Ones will watch over me. And Lan. Just in case I… lose control.”

Elyndria squeezed his hand in return.

“You won’t,” she said quietly. “But if you do, you’re not alone. You never were.”

Rand gave her a sidelong glance, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as the sun crested higher, casting long, golden shadows across the Waste.

Neither of them let go.

---

The journey across the Aiel Waste stretched long and vast, each day a mirror of the one before—red dust swirling beneath their boots, the relentless sun bearing down, and the dry wind whispering over the dunes like an ancient song. They moved with purpose, only stopping when night overtook the sky, and the stars scattered themselves like jewels over the world. Then fires would be lit, tents erected, and the Taardad would rest.

Every morning before the sun had properly risen, Elyndria, Egwene, and Aviendha would rise to train beneath Moiraine’s sharp, watchful eye. There was no leniency in the Aiel Waste.

The softness of the Cold Rocks Hold was gone.

Here, power was honed like a blade.

Egwene was learning to respond faster, her reaction time sharpening with each session. Moiraine pushed her to layer her shields and unravel weaves mid-air, and though frustration sometimes darkened her brow, she was blossoming into a true force. Aviendha, ever the warrior, adapted quickly. Her ability to incorporate the One Power into her spear fighting became deadly—lightning-fast lashes of Air and sharp blades of Earth weaving with her spears in a fluid, brutal dance.

Elyndria had found her own growth, though it was quieter, more internal. She learned to reinforce her shield weaves with threads of light, her lightweaving growing more refined. Her illusions took on sharper clarity, no longer just images but experiences—real enough that even Lan had once mistaken a flickering mirage of a wolf for something tangible. The shielding, however, was what pleased Moiraine most. Light reinforced her barriers, weaving radiant threads into walls that shimmered and pulsed, stronger, more resilient.

By the third day, more Taardad joined them.

Every time a new sept arrived, Rand would show them the marks on his forearms—the dragon reborn in fire. Elyndria often stood nearby as Wise Ones and clan chiefs came forward to examine him, to stare with searching eyes. Some were skeptical, others reverent, but all fell into step after. Rhuarc’s calm voice carried through the growing host, explaining who Rand was.

And Rand… he was changing.

Elyndria saw it in the way he stood taller, how his voice no longer wavered when he spoke before others. He was stepping into the title of Car’a’carn—whether he believed he deserved it or not.

There were thousands of Taardad Aiel now marching behind them, a growing tide of dust and purpose trailing across the Waste. Each evening, the camps sprawled farther.

The air at night thrummed with conversations in the Old Tongue, laughter, sparring, music. But the mornings remained theirs—Elyndria, Egwene, and Aviendha in the circle of heat and discipline Moiraine forged. And Elyndria knew with every breath, every thread of the One Power she channeled, that they were preparing not just for Alcair Dal.

They were preparing for everything that would come after.

Rand was training, too.

Each morning, just as the sun began to stretch its golden fingers across the horizon, he would walk away from the growing camp under the watchful eyes of Rhuarc, Lan, and the Wise Ones. He never said much about what he did—only that he was learning to control saidin better, that he was weaving with more precision, more strength. There was pride in his voice, but it was always restrained, quiet.

Elyndria didn’t press him. She only nodded, offered a smile, and let his silence settle between them like a shared understanding.

But she could feel it.

When he channeled, the bond between them hummed, faint but undeniable. She felt the surge of energy within him, the rush of power flooding his veins. There was always a flicker of contentment, like a puzzle finally being solved. But beneath it, buried just beneath the surface, was something sharper—craving. As if the Power was a song he could never stop listening to once it started. As if it whispered to him in ways even he didn’t realize.

She didn’t speak of it. Not even when the sensation lingered long after his training had ended, not even when she saw the way his hands flexed as if trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. She feared that if she voiced it—if she said the word craving—he might pull back. That he might stop.

And she didn’t want him to stop.

She trusted him. Elyndria trusted Rand more than anyone. She had seen his strength, his kindness, his doubts. But still, that quiet fear never truly left her—not completely. The fear that saidin might twist him, corrupt him in ways no shield or bond could protect against.

She hated that fear. It felt like a betrayal, however small.

But it was there, nestled in the pit of her heart like a seed waiting for a crack in the earth. She buried it as deep as she could. Because Rand needed her strength, not her worry.

Because whatever storm came—madness, prophecy, war—they would face it together. And so, each day, she watched him train in the distance, his figure alone against the rising sun, and held her silence close.

Chapter 37: Choosing a path

Their journey through the Aiel Waste was grueling, the relentless heat of the desert sinking into their bones as the endless sea of sand stretched before them. The wind had dried their throats, their skin cracking under the sun's unforgiving glare.

The vast expanse of red sand felt like a world untouched, as though the very earth itself was both alive and empty.

Elyndria’s eyes squinted against the unrelenting sunlight, feeling the dry weight of the air in her lungs as they pressed on, each step sinking a little deeper into the soft, shifting sand.

The rhythmic sound of their footsteps was interrupted only by the occasional breeze that swirled the fine grains into the air, stinging their faces. Every direction seemed to look the same—an endless, barren landscape, with no sign of shelter or comfort, only the heat and the horizon that beckoned without promise.

It was on the fifth day, as the sun began to lower, that they first saw it—the stark break in the monotony of the land.

As they drew closer, the familiar sounds of the Aiel filled the air. At first, it was faint—a murmur carried by the wind, the sound of voices and movement. The closer they came, the clearer it became. A low hum of activity drifted across the dunes, rising in intensity as they neared. Elyndria could hear the rhythmic clang of spears striking against one another—warriors in the midst of practice, their spears dancing in the air in perfect synchrony.

As they passed over a final rise, the full sight of the gathering came into view. The Aiel had already made camp. Rows of tents in varying sizes stretched out across the sand, their colors muted against the pale backdrop, but their presence was unmistakable.

Around the campfires, warriors sat, their bodies draped in the practical garb of battle. Some were tending to the fires, cooking, others sharpening their weapons, their movements fluid and precise. The smell of roasting meat and the earthy scent of fire mingled with the dust of the Waste, carried on the dry wind.

But it was the warriors that commanded attention. Everywhere Elyndria looked, there were Aiel—fierce, disciplined, and waiting.

Some practiced their spearmanship, thrusting and striking in a deadly rhythm, while others sparred in quiet groups, their movements fast and deliberate, each strike echoing with a sharpness that seemed to vibrate in the air. Their spears sang as they moved—clashing, twirling, piercing the dry air.

Elyndria could almost feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy—a sense that this gathering was more than just a meeting of clans. It was a moment of reckoning, and each warrior here, whether speaking in low murmurs or practicing in silence, was ready for the challenge.

She felt a tightening in her chest.

Elyndria had known this moment would come, but now that they were here, the weight of it pressed down on her. She glanced to Rand, who walked beside her, his usual stoic expression shadowed with something deeper. The burden of what he was about to face was not lost on him. It was a challenge— from the very fabric of Aiel culture itself. A test of his worth.

Rhuarc’s voice broke through the quiet, flat and steady.

“Ten thousand Taardad spears follow us. A scout told me there are four other clans already here—with their chiefs.” His words hit the air like a stone dropping into still water, sending ripples across the group.

Bair stepped forward, her frown deepening as she took in the assembly below. The mass of Aiel warriors standing at Alcair Dal was growing, forming a sea of faces —silent, waiting, their gazes sharp.

“And the Shaido wait,” Bair said, her voice tinged with wary recognition. “All of them.”

Elyndria couldn’t tear her gaze away from the figures of the Shaido in the distance. “I thought the Shaido didn’t want Rand as the Car’a’carn,” Elyndria ventured, her voice breaking through the tense silence.

The very sight of them made something coil tight in her chest, a hard knot of unease. Her thoughts turned back to the time when they had first encountered the Shaido in front of Rhuidean. She could still see Couladin’s face in her mind’s eye—his arrogant expression, and when he had looked at Rand it had been with a disgust so palpable, it felt like a physical blow.

There had been no recognition, no respect in his eyes, only an overwhelming rejection, as if Rand was nothing more than a threat to his pride and his clan.

She remembered the way Couladin had tried to force himself forward, attempting to reject Rand as the Car’a’carn, as though it were his right to do so. The anger had burned in Couladin’s face, twisting the features of his face into something ugly.

Melaine sighed heavily, her features taut with frustration. “They are here to discredit him."

Elyndria met her gaze, the weight of the words sinking in. The marks—Rand’s dragon brands. The symbols that proved his lineage, his destiny. Yet even with these marks, there were those who would question him, who would see only a wetlander where they needed a leader.

Elyndria knew that this was no simple challenge of strength; it was a challenge of identity.

To some, Rand would always be an outsider.

“Even with the marks,” Melaine said quietly, her voice softer than before, “some Aiel will doubt his claim. Some do not have much respect for wetlanders.”

Rand’s gaze shifted to them. The resolve in his expression was firm, but there was an undercurrent of something more vulnerable beneath it.

“I am not weak. I will show them why I bear these marks.” His voice was steady, but Elyndria could hear the quiet defiance in it. It was a promise—not just to the Aiel, but to himself.

A declaration that he would not back down.

Rhuarc, standing at the edge of the group, nodded solemnly, his face unreadable as ever.

“It will be needed. For some.” He turned to Bair and Melaine, his voice low but firm. “We will set up camp while we wait. Tell the others. Be careful—especially around the Shaido.”

The two Wise Ones exchanged glances, their expressions tightening before they nodded in unison and moved off to speak with the other Taardad, their steps quick but purposeful.

Then Rhuarc turned to Rand, his gaze steady. “Come,” he said, gesturing for him to follow. “We must tell the other clan chiefs we are here.”

Rand gave a small nod, eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the scattered groups in the distance. Without another word, he fell into step beside Rhuarc, both men striding away toward the heart of the Aiel gathering, where the weight of the Car’a’carn’s presence would be most sharply felt.

Elyndria remained standing, watching the horizon, the shadow of Alcair Dal growing ever larger.

The moment of reckoning was at hand. She could feel it in the air, in the tightness of her chest, in the way the sands whispered around them, as if the land itself was holding its breath. 

Quiet footsteps behind her broke the spell.

Moiraine approached with Lan at her side, both of them silent and watchful, as always. Moiraine’s voice was low, pitched just for Elyndria and Egwene as they drew near.

“Be careful while you are here,” she said, her tone calm but carrying a distinct edge. “A gathering of this size can be dangerous—especially if it catches the interest of a Forsaken. And with Lanfear still hiding in the shadows…”

“You think she might come here?” Elyndria asked, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

The very thought of Lanfear sent a cold twist through her stomach, coiling anger and unease in equal measure.

She had not forgotten the argument that happened between her, Egwene and Rand over Lanfear. Of how strongly Rand had tried to defend the forsaken, believing that she was good, that she was his friend.

Though she had not brought it up since leaving Cold Rocks Hold, she still held a sense of betrayal in her chest from Rand's actions and words.

Moiraine’s expression tightened, her eyes scanning the encampment, the dunes beyond.

“I saw things in Rhuidean,” she said, her voice distant. “Some of them… well, in some I saw Lanfear here. Just be wary of your surroundings. Just in case.”

Egwene nodded solemnly, and Elyndria did the same, her fingers brushing against the hilt of the short blade she now carried at her side.

She would not be caught unaware again.

Just then, Aviendha approached, her sharp eyes sweeping over them. “Come,” she said, motioning toward the newly claimed patch of sand. “You two—and Rand—shall share a tent with me.” She cast a brief glance toward Moiraine and Lan. “You will have one as well, near ours.”

Moiraine dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

Lan gave a quiet nod. “It’s appreciated.”

Elyndria followed Egwene and Aviendha toward the stretch of sand where the Taardad had begun setting up their section of the camp. The three women worked in silence, pulling taut the canvas of their tent and anchoring it with practiced hands. The rhythm of their movements offered a brief reprieve from the tension that had wrapped around them since their arrival.

Aviendha’s eyes flicked repeatedly toward the distant ridges where other clans had pitched their tents. She moved with coiled energy, her posture taut like a drawn bowstring.

Once the final stake was driven into the sand, she stepped back, dusting her hands.

“I will be back,” she said, already turning.

“Where are you going?” Egwene asked, brushing windblown hair from her face.

“To gather information,” Aviendha replied. Her tone was casual, but her gaze remained sharp, scanning the shapes of warriors moving in the distance. “It will be interesting to see what the Shaido are saying about Rand.”

“You think they are?” Elyndria asked, her brow furrowing.

Aviendha scoffed, one corner of her mouth twisting. “No doubt. They are a sneaky clan.”

She didn’t wait for a response, striding off into the growing maze of tents and shadows with her head held high and her steps silent on the sand.

Egwene let out a soft breath. “She’s worried.”

“Aren’t we all?” Elyndria murmured, her gaze following Aviendha’s retreating figure until she vanished behind a ridge.

The Shaido were close. Closer than she liked. Her mind flashed again with the memory of Couladin’s glare, the way his lips had curled when Rand had emerged from Rhuidean.

There had been no honor in that look.

Only rage.

The tent offered little comfort now, though its shade was welcome.

Elyndria sank to her knees just inside the entrance, her fingers trailing through the warm sand as she listened to the growing sounds of camp around them—clan chiefs talking in low voices, spears clinking, laughter somewhere in the distance, brittle and forced.

Egwene sat beside her, pulling her knees close. “Do you think Rand is ready?”

Elyndria didn’t answer right away.

She thought of his face—calm, determined, but drawn tighter with every step deeper into the Waste. She thought of the dragon brands on his arms, the heavy weight of prophecy, and the endless tide of expectations crashing against him like surf against rock.

“I think he has to be,” Elyndria said finally. “Whether he is or not.”

The wind stirred the canvas of the tent, whispering softly around them like a memory trying to be heard.

Egwene rested her chin on her knees, her gaze distant, fixed on nothing in particular.

After a long silence, she finally spoke, “How are you feeling about… all of it? Rand declaring himself as Car’a’carn in front of every clan chief, every spear?”

Elyndria hummed quietly, trying to think how to put her thought into words. It was hard trying to verbally express everything she felt about their situation.

“I don’t know if I can put it into words,” she said quietly. “Sometimes there's this feeling.....like a weight on my chest. Not crushing, not all at once. Just there. Heavy.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn’t look up. “There’s this tightness in my ribs some days, like I’m holding something in. And if I let go, even for a breath, I’ll unravel.” She paused, her fingers digging into her skirt. “It’s not just Rand. It’s everything. The dreams, the eyes of the Aiel watching and...Lanfear. I have this feeling that every step brings us closer to something we can’t come back from." She wrapped her arms around herself. “I miss simpler things. I miss the Foregate, when we didn’t have to think about what we were or weren’t meant to be. I miss that month on the ship after Falme. Do you remember? The merchant vessel with the peeling red sails?” A smile touched her lips, faint but real. “It smelled like salt and old fish, and everything creaked, and we were always bumping into each other.”

Egwene gave a soft, almost wistful laugh. “Mat was always trying to climb the rigging. Nynaeve threatened to shave his head if he didn’t stop.”

Elyndria chuckled too, eyes warming. “And Loial would sit at the bow and hum those Ogier songs that made the sailors uneasy.”

“I miss it too,” Egwene said quietly, her voice tinged with longing. “Everything felt right when we were together. Even when it was chaotic… it was ours. We had each other.”

“Now we’re splintered,” Elyndria murmured, the humor draining from her voice. “Everyone walking their own path. It’s like the world pulled us apart.” There was a pause, but then she straightened a little, her tone firming. “We’ll see each other again.”

Egwene looked at her, the sadness in her eyes tempered with gratitude.

Elyndria forced a small grin. “We’ll make a life in the Two Rivers, you, I and the others. Just chickens, maybe a cow. Have houses next to each other - or even build one large house to share. Perhaps even have families of our own. No White Tower. No duties. No battles. Just us. All of us.”

Egwene chuckled, the sound low and wistful, like water slipping over smooth stones.

“It sounds nice,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “A life without expectations… just peace, and the people we love.” She looked over at Elyndria, something unreadable flickering behind her gaze. “But do you truly not want to go back to the White Tower?”

Elyndria was quiet for a moment, her expression distant. The breeze stirred a loose strand of hair across her cheek, and she didn’t brush it away.

“A year ago,” Elyndria said quietly, her voice brushing the air like a secret, “I could have never imagined a life away from the White Tower. It was everything I knew. The routine. The structure. The quiet strength of the Green Ajah. They were my family—my sisters. But being away from the Tower… it’s taught me more than I ever thought possible. I’ve faced more than tests and weaves—I’ve lived. I’ve done things I never dreamed I could.” Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with something deeper. Something resolute. “It’s like… leaving the Tower unlocked a part of me I didn’t even know was there. A part that would’ve stayed buried forever under expectations and oaths if I had never stepped outside those walls.” She glanced at Egwene then, her gaze clear and bright in the growing dark. “Now, with everything happening—with Rand declaring himself, with the world shifting beneath our feet—I can’t disregard what I’ve become. Or who I’ve found. If I return to the Tower, they’ll expect me to leave all of it behind. To swear loyalty only to the Amyrlin. To become a tool for the Tower’s will.”

Elyndria shook her head, slow and firm.

“But I don’t think that’s my destiny anymore.”

Egwene watched her, silent for a moment, then leaned over to nudge her gently with her shoulder.

“You’re not the only one feeling that pull. The world’s changing too fast to stay what we were.” She looked up at the stars just beginning to glimmer. “Maybe the Tower was just one chapter. Not the whole story.”

A soft wind moved over them again, warm with the scent of sand and distant fires. Elyndria let out a long breath, the kind that feels like it carries a weight with it—and leaves you lighter afterward.

“I want to believe,” she said, “that I'm meant to be more than what I was trained to be. That what I choose now… matters more than what I was told to become.”

“It does,” Egwene said, her voice steady.

They sat in silence again, and this time it wasn’t heavy—it was full.

Of understanding. Of quiet defiance.

“Let’s walk,” Egwene suggested tilting her head towards the large gathering of Aiel along the open plains. “Clear our heads. See what we’re surrounded by.”

---

They wandered for nearly half an hour, weaving between clusters of Aiel warriors. Firelight cast long, dancing shadows on sun-baked rock, and voices in the distance rose in low songs and sharp bursts of laughter.

She tried to memorize faces, postures, weapons, anything that might be useful later. Even here, even now, she couldn’t help but scan the crowd like a soldier.

Their walk was interrupted as Moiraine appeared, striding toward them with a purpose that cut through the night like a knife. Her face was taut, her eyes storm-dark.

“Lanfear is here,” she said.

Egwene and Elyndria froze, exchanging a quick look. A chill feathered down Elyndria’s spine.

“How do you know?” Egwene asked sharply.

Moiraine inhaled, her voice steady despite the fire burning behind her words. “She sent one of the Taardad against us. A woman who had sworn an oath to her, long ago. She approached Lan—she didn’t try to kill him. Instead, she warned him. About Lanfear.”

Elyndria’s mouth went dry. “She warned you… and then what?”

Moiraine’s gaze didn’t waver. “The oath held. She could not speak against her and live. She died moments after.”

A sick twist curled in Elyndria’s stomach.

She spoke, her voice hoarse but steady. “How will we know where she is, then? She won’t step into the open, not with all these Aiel around.”

Moiraine shook her head. “No. She won’t. That’s why we’ll draw her out. Somewhere further from the heart of Alcair Dal—on the eastern edge. You, Egwene, Lan, and I. It’s too much temptation for her to ignore.” Elyndria felt her pulse kick hard.

“You think she’ll come after you?” Moiraine’s eyes narrowed, her voice low. “She wants my head on a spike. And yours as well, I’m sure.”

Elyndria swallowed tightly. Her throat felt dry, and her heart thudded with a jagged rhythm—half fear, half a cold, simmering resolve. She could feel the tension sliding into her limbs, readying her like a drawn bowstring.

“Okay,” she said after a breath. “I… I have to get my blades from the tent.”

Moiraine nodded once. “Do not linger. Lan and I will be waiting on the eastern edge of Alcair Dal.”

Then she turned and walked away, her presence like a falling stone in still water, leaving ripples in her wake. Elyndria stared after her, the weight of what was coming pressing hard on her shoulders.

Her mind was racing, her thoughts tangled in a web of tension and fear. She had faced battles, fierce opponents, but this... this felt different. This was more than a fight. It was the hunt of something dark, something powerful.

Lanfear was not just an enemy; she was a force.

The fear she felt wasn’t a rush of panic—it was something colder, sharper, like the quiet before a thunderclap. The knowledge that everything could change in an instant. That one misstep, one wrong move, could bring death. Not just to her, but to everyone she cared about.

But beneath that fear, something else stirred—determination. A fire that had long smoldered deep inside her flared to life. She would not let Lanfear get away with what she has done. She would not let this dark force tear apart everything they had fought for.

Her eyes narrowed as she felt the quiet pulse of her own power thrumming in time with her heartbeat. The One Power, lightweaving—these were her tools, her strengths. Her grip on her emotions tightened. She couldn’t afford to be swayed by fear now. There was a job to be done.

Elyndria took a slow, steadying breath.

The plan was simple enough—head to the eastern edge of Alcair Dal, wait for the trap to be set, and lure Lanfear into the open. But nothing was ever simple, not when dealing with the Forsaken.

She knew better than anyone that things rarely went as planned. Still, this was their best chance.

“Alright,” she murmured to herself, her voice low but firm. “Let’s see what we’re up against.” Elyndria turned on her heel and began to walk back toward the tent, her mind already focused on the task at hand. She called over her shoulder, “Let’s go, Egwene. Moiraine and Lan won’t wait long.”

But there was no response.

The silence hung heavy, stretching out between them like an unspoken barrier.

Elyndria paused, then turned back. Her gaze found Egwene, standing still, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

There was an expression on her face—reluctant, worried. It made Elyndria’s heart tighten with a flicker of unease.

Elyndria drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her own nerves. "I know that fighting Lanfear will be a lot," she said, her voice softer now, understanding the weight of their situation. "Terrifying in every sense. But we don’t have a choice, Egwene."

"It’s not that." Egwene’s voice, when it came, was hesitant, weighed down with a fear Elyndria hadn’t expected. "It’s... if we are gone, who will be with Rand when he declares himself as Car’a’carn?"

The question hit Elyndria like a blow to the chest. She froze, her breath catching for a moment.

She’s right, Elyndria thought.

Everyone who had been by Rand’s side since the beginning, every ally and friend, would be gone. If Lanfear attacked now, in this crucial moment, they would all be absent when Rand needed them the most.

But the force of Lanfear, the danger she posed, was more pressing.

Elyndria’s pulse quickened, but she held firm.

"He has the Taardad clan behind him," she said, trying to reassure them both, though the words felt heavier than usual. "Aviendha, Rhuarc—none of them will let a spear touch him. He will be safe, Egwene."

Egwene shook her head, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her eyes scanned the camp, as if looking for something that would make this all make sense. When she spoke, her voice was low, quiet, but full of that unshakable conviction Elyndria knew all too well.

"It’s not about him being safe, Elyndria," she said, her gaze flicking to the horizon. "It’s about what happens if he uses saidin. If he loses control..."

Elyndria felt her heart tighten, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn’t realized just how deep Egwene’s fears ran. All this time, it had been Moiraine who voiced concerns about Rand’s potential for madness, for the taint on saidin.

But this... this was different. Egwene's fear—it wasn’t just about the future, but about something more personal, more raw.

She swallowed, trying to steady her voice as she asked, “You think he will? Lose control of himself?”

Egwene exhaled shakily, “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice soft but laced with fear. “And that terrifies me, Elyndria... the unknowing of it all.”

Elyndria stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Egwene, searching for some flicker of hope, some trace of confidence to bring her back from the edge of this fear. But Egwene's next words only deepened the anxiety gnawing at Elyndria’s heart.

“When I went through my trials to become Accepted at the White Tower, before we left Tar Valon,” Egwene continued, her voice distant, as though recalling something from a dream, “I saw things... a vision of myself as Amyrlin Seat... and Rand, broken and mad. I can't get that image out of my head.”

Elyndria stood still, feeling the weight of those words press down on her.

“The things we see in those trials, Egwene, it's our fears. Things that we have to overcome and battle to become stronger before becoming accepted" Elyndria said gently, her voice steady as she sought to reassure her friend.

Egwene’s face hardened, and she shook her head, her eyes blazing with a new intensity.

"It isn't just a fear. It's a possibility, Elyndria. A large one. We can't ignore it."

The words cut through Elyndria like ice.

She could see the determination in Egwene’s eyes, but also the exhaustion. The burden that weighed too heavily on her shoulders. Egwene stood straighter then, inhaling deeply, gathering her strength. “You, Moiraine, and Lan will go and fight Lanfear. I... I would probably only hold you back anyway. I’ll stay here when Rand declares himself as Car’a’carn. I have to be here for him, Elyndria."

There was finality in her words.

Resolve.

Elyndria felt a pang of reluctance in her chest, but she knew that Egwene wasn’t about to change her mind.

Slowly, she nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of what they were all about to face.

She understood. Egwene had her own fears, her own duties. And in a way, they both had to face those fears head-on.

"Okay," Elyndria said, her voice soft but accepting. "Stay with him, Egwene. Be there for him. I’ll make sure Lanfear doesn’t get any closer.”

They shared a long look, a silent understanding passing between them.

Then, without another word, Elyndria turned and began to walk toward the tent again. The task before them had only become more complicated, but it had to be done.

---

Elyndria rushed into the tent, her movements swift and practiced. The air felt charged with an urgency she could barely contain.

She pulled off her cloak and began to secure her hidden blades—one near her boot, the other tucked carefully into the pocket of her skirt. The weight of the weapons felt familiar in her hands, but tonight, their presence seemed heavier than ever. As she tightened the last strap around the belt of her skirt, she heard the flap of the tent part. She spun around to find Rand standing in the entrance, his face drawn with concern.

"What's happened?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry. "I can feel you through the bond."

Elyndria didn’t have time to hide the anxiety that crept into her chest. Her mind raced with the plan that was unfolding, but it was difficult to explain it all with the tightness that gripped her heart.

She met his gaze as she continued to secure the final blade, the last thing she needed to carry with her. His eyes never left her as he watched her movements, his expression darkening further.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice quiet but insistent.

She paused, standing still in the tense silence.

Her mind raced—not only with the danger they were facing but with the way Rand had grown in the past year. She hadn’t missed it. His pale skin had darkened under the harsh Aiel sun, and the muscles that rippled beneath his shirt spoke of the long hours he’d spent in training with Lan. It wasn’t just his body that had changed. It was the way he carried himself now. There was strength in his posture, an awareness of the world around him that hadn’t been there before. He was no longer the unsure young man who’d once carried the weight of a prophecy he couldn’t understand.

She inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the moment settle into her chest. She walked toward him, her heart pounding with a mixture of love, fear, and resolve.

When she reached him, she cupped his jaw, her fingers trembling slightly as she looked into his eyes.

"Lanfear is here," she said, her voice low but steady. "Moiraine, Lan, and I are going to draw her away from here so that you can declare yourself as Car’a’carn without any mishaps."

Rand’s brows furrowed in concern, a storm of emotions flickering across his face.

"Moiraine said she was going to fight Lanfear when I spoke to her," he said, his voice tight with confusion. "She didn’t say you were going to be there. You shouldn’t go. Moiraine has the Sakarnen to help her fight Lanfear. You won’t be safe."

She shook her head, her expression firm.

"Even with the Sakarnen, Moiraine will need help," she said. "I’ll be beside her in this battle. I am strong in my own way, Rand. I can fight Lanfear. I have to."

Rand’s frown deepened, his worry pressing against her like a physical weight. "Lanfear is strong," he said, his voice heavy with concern. "She hates you, more than she ever hated Moiraine. She will go after you. You won’t win against her."

Elyndria’s frustration flared. She could feel the weight of his concern, but she couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—hide from this battle.

"I know how strong she is," she said, her voice sharp but controlled. "I understand that. But I believe in my strength. Moiraine and I can fight against her. We can win." She stepped back from him, her hands trembling but her resolve unwavering. The quiet intensity between them was thick with unspoken fears, but she had made up her mind. "I can do this, Rand. I won’t hide in the shadows, knowing Lanfear wants me dead. I won’t let her kill me without a fight."

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight, and for a moment, Rand just stared at her, his expression unreadable. But then, almost like a soft whisper, the question she had been avoiding all this time left her lips.

"If you were so worried about Lanfear’s feelings toward me," she said, her voice cutting through the tension between them, "why did you even spend time with her in your dreams? Knowing what she felt about me?"

Rand’s eyes widened, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out. He looked away, guilt and confusion flickering across his face.

Elyndria held her ground, her chest tight as she tried to read his expression. "I’m not hiding, Rand," she added, her voice softer but full of finality. "I won’t hide for you or anyone else. I have my own path to walk. And this is part of it."

Elyndria stood before Rand, her chest tight with a mixture of worry and resolve.

His gaze was intense, full of something she couldn’t quite place—fear, maybe. But it wasn’t the kind of fear that was easy to soothe with words. It was the kind that dug deep, settled in his bones, and made him question everything about himself. He was holding something back, something more than just his usual burden. She could see it in the way he clenched his fists, the way his shoulders were drawn tight, like he was preparing for something he didn’t think he could stop.

“I’m not hiding you away,” he said, his voice a low murmur, but it wasn’t the words that struck her. It was the way he said it, as if he was trying to convince himself more than her.

She waited, sensing more beneath the surface.

And it came.

“I didn’t start out wanting anything from her,” he said, voice low and rough. “At first, she just appeared in my dreams. Lanfear. She spoke of the Age of Legends, of a time before the Breaking, before the world was shattered. And she spoke of Lews Therin—of who he had been, who I had been.” He looked down, shame flickering across his features like a shadow cast by firelight. “I hated how much I wanted to know. I was curious, Elyndria. She told me about how Lews Therin handled the saidin with control. Even answers to questions I didn’t know I was asking. And I thought…” He gave a bitter laugh. “Light, I thought I could use her. I thought I could learn from her without giving anything in return. But I was wrong.”

He looked at her then, truly looked, and the weight in his eyes was almost unbearable.

“She was the trap. She knew how to play me. Knew how to make herself seem... necessary. Like she was my friend. And I let it happen. Because I was too scared to face the darkness that I had in me.” He shook his head, jaw tight. “I’m not proud of it. But I understand now. Everything she offered was a lie—twisted around truth. And I was too blind, too stupid, to see the snare.”

Elyndria stood very still.

The canvas walls of the tent fluttered faintly in the wind, a whisper against the heavy silence that followed Rand’s words.

She watched him—the way his shoulders curled slightly inward, like he was trying to make himself smaller. A boy caught in the aftermath of choices he made when not knowing the consequences. He looked older than his years in that moment, not just from the sun and the training, but from the weight he carried in his soul.

And Light, her heart ached for him.

She felt the pulse of the bond between them like a low thrum in her bones. The truth of his pain bled into her through it—shame, regret, the quiet terror that he might be too far gone to come back. That he might have already lost some essential part of himself to the shadow, even if he hadn’t meant to.

Elyndria took a slow breath, letting it fill the silence between them, letting it anchor her.

“She wove it perfectly,” she said softly, stepping toward him. “Not just the lies—but the truths, too. That’s how she did it. She gave you pieces of yourself you didn’t even know you were missing.” Rand’s eyes flicked to hers, wide and wounded. “And you took them,” she continued, her voice steady despite the storm rolling in her chest, “because you needed them. Because no one else could tell you who you were, and she pretended she could.” She stopped in front of him. She didn’t touch him—not yet—but she let her voice carry the weight of her truth. “I don’t blame you, Rand. Light, how could I? You’ve been walking through fire since the day you found out who you are. But what scares me—” her voice caught, just slightly, “—what scares me is that you are trying to be everything all at once without stopping to think about yourself properly."

Finally, she reached out, gently resting her palm over his heart.

“You are not the man she wants to shape. You are you. And I still see you, even when you don’t sometimes.” She swallowed hard, her hand trembling faintly where it touched him. “I won’t lie, Rand. I’m afraid too. Of what she wants. Of what she might still take. But I believe in your strength more than I fear her shadow. I always have.” She looked up at him then, her gaze steady, her voice a whisper against the weight between them. “So whatever else she told you—whatever truths she wrapped in poison—I need you to remember this: I see the man you’re trying to be. And I’m still standing here.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt by Lanfear,” Rand said, his voice quiet but strained. “If you go out there and fight her… there’s a chance that might happen.”

Elyndria didn’t flinch from his words. She didn’t soften them with false comfort or lies.

Instead, she nodded, her gaze steady.

“Yes,” she said simply. “There is a chance I’m going to get hurt. But that is my choice. To go and help Moiraine and Lan fight her. Just as it is your choice to stand before the Aiel and declare yourself as Car’a’carn.” She paused, then added, gently, “Our paths might be diverting for now—but only for a small moment. It’s a path we both have to take.”

Rand was silent. She felt the weight of it press between them—unspoken fears, unacknowledged truths. When he finally spoke, it was with a hollow kind of honesty.

“I don’t think I like these paths very much.”

A faint chuckle escaped her lips, though it held no real humor.

“Some paths aren’t meant to be easy,” she murmured, reaching down to take his hands in hers, wrapping them tightly in her grip. “When you stand before the Aiel, when you speak those words—do not doubt yourself, even if they do. You are strong, Rand al’Thor. You remind them of who you are. The boy of Aiel blood, born on the mountain slopes of Dragonmount, raised by a warrior with a gentle heart. Tam al’Thor made you into a man long before the Pattern named you Dragon. You have journeyed far to be with them. Not just as the Car’a’carn. Not just as the Dragon Reborn. But as Rand al’Thor—someone who does not bow to those who mock him or try to control him.”

His eyes dropped to her face, lingering there, searching. There was something fragile and fierce in his gaze—like he was memorizing her. A slow, small smile curved his lips, tender in its quiet defiance.

“I will,” he said softly. Then he squeezed her hands and added, “And you will not waver in front of Lanfear. You won’t. You’ll fight her with everything in you. You’ll show her that you don’t bend.”

Their foreheads met, and for a moment, everything else faded—the war drums in the distance, the looming shadow of Lanfear, the weight of prophecy pressing down on both of them. All that existed was the warmth of his breath against her skin and the way his hand tightened around hers.

Elyndria closed her eyes, anchoring herself in the steady beat of Rand’s heart. In the bond between them. It pulsed like a quiet vow in her chest—steady, true.

We walk different paths, but we are never apart.

“I won’t bend,” she whispered, her voice barely audible between them. “Not to her. Not to fear.”

She felt his lips brush her brow—a soft, trembling touch that said everything words couldn’t.

Regret. Hope. Love.

A goodbye that wasn’t quite a goodbye.

“I know,” he said. “You never have.”

She leaned back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “And you won’t falter, Rand. When they stare at you with doubt in their eyes—when they test you, when they fear you—you stand tall. Because you are not the weapon they expect. You are the fire they didn’t see coming. The storm that they cannot tame. You are Rand al’Thor. And you choose what kind of leader you will be.”

Rand’s breath caught, just for a moment, and she saw the flicker of something—resolve—burning brighter in his eyes. He didn’t speak, not yet. But she didn’t need him to. She felt it, through the bond. That moment when doubt slipped its grip, and conviction began to take root again.

She pressed her forehead against his one last time, her voice a soft murmur, “Whatever happens out there, whatever she tries—don’t let it shake you even if you feel something through the bond. I’ll come back to you, Rand. You just make sure there’s something to come back to.”

His hand came up to cradle her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin with reverence.

“There always will be,” he said hoarsely. “Light, Elyndria, if there’s anything left in me when this is done—it’ll be yours.”

Her chest tightened, but she nodded once, sharply, pulling away before her heart could trap her there longer than it should.

“Then it’s time.”

She turned toward the tent’s flap, her hand brushing the hilt of the hidden blade at her waist. Somewhere out there, Lanfear was waiting.

But so was fate.

And Elyndria was done waiting for it to come to her.

---

 

The wind shifted over the rocky plain, curling dust into faint spirals at her feet. Elyndria stepped carefully over a sand dune, her braid brushing her shoulder as she turned her eyes to the east. Moiraine and Lan stood where the land began to dip, their faces grim.

Moiraine’s gaze swept over Elyndria’s shoulder. “No Egwene?”

“No,” Elyndria said, her voice quiet but firm. “She wants to be there when Rand declares himself as Car’a’carn.”

She didn’t add the rest.

That Egwene had looked her in the eye and confessed her fear about Rand going mad while possessing the saidin. Elyndria had nodded, though the words had twisted in her chest like a knife. She kept that part buried, close and silent.

Moiraine gave a small nod looking unsurprised. Perhaps she already knew that Egwene wouldn't join them on this fight.

They walked a little further, away from the stir of Aiel voices echoing faintly from Alcair Dal. 

“What is the plan?” Lan asked, his voice low, rough as stone. His hand rested on his sword hilt, knuckles pale.

“I will use the Sakarnen,” Moiraine said, drawing a small, cloth-wrapped object from within her cloak. “The power that comes from it will gain her attention.”

Elyndria tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Lanfear?”

“Yes,” Moiraine replied. “Rand told me she spoke of it once. That she wanted him to retrieve it. The Sakarnen holds a resonance of the Age of Legends—power, allure, memory. It will be a temptation too strong for her to ignore.”

Lan’s eyes never left the wrapped object. “And us?”

“Hiding,” Moiraine said without hesitation. “Until she shows herself. The longer you stay in shadow, the more chance we have to control the outcome. Surprise may be the only edge we’re afforded.”

Elyndria frowned. “You think we’ll need it.”

“I know we will,” Moiraine said. “There’s a reason Lanfear is feared, even among the Forsaken. She is cunning, powerful, and utterly without restraint. She plays with emotions like threads in a loom—and tears them apart just as easily.”

Lan’s hand tightened on his blade, jaw hard. “And if she sees through it? If she knows we’re waiting?”

“Then we face her head-on,” Moiraine said. “But I would rather the chance of a surprise attack”

She turned fully toward them, the breeze catching the hem of her deep blue dress, making it ripple like water against the sand-blown earth. Her eyes—cool, clear, and unrelenting—met Elyndria’s and held. “You do not hesitate in using the saidar when it comes to battling her. For she will not be hesitant to end your life with just a flick of her fingers. She will attack us from any angle she can."

Lan’s gaze swept the horizon, already calculating angles of approach, paths of retreat, places where shadows might hide more than wind. He said nothing, but his silence was the kind that spoke of readiness.

Elyndria said nothing either, her hands curling loosely at her sides.

Listening to Moiraine felt like slipping into an old rhythm—measured, tactical, precise. It tugged at something buried but familiar, a long-dormant memory of her time with the Green Ajah. Those missions beyond the Tower’s walls, where the world had narrowed to the beat of her heart and the quiet breaths of sisters crouched in wait beside her. Shadowspawn hunted by moonlight. Faint flickers of saidar held in readiness like knives behind their backs.

It was different now—no sisters in green beside her, no whispered plans shared under stars—but the feeling was the same.

That quiet before the strike. That stillness before the world shattered again.

“I’ll shield if I can,” she said quietly, her voice steady, honed. “Strike fast if I can’t.”

Moiraine’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer, and there was something like approval in her eyes. “Good. But remember—her strength lies not only in the Power, but in her mind. She will try to divide us. To confuse us. That is her game.”

Lan’s hand shifted to rest on the hilt of his blade. “Let her try.”

The words were quiet, calm. The kind of calm that came before a storm. Elyndria stood a little straighter beside him, heart thudding a slow, steady rhythm.

Moiraine led them farther out across the wind-worn sands, her pace calm but unrelenting.The sounds of Alcair Dal—chants, footsteps, the murmuring of thousands of Aiel—had long faded behind them, swallowed by the dunes.

“Go,” Moiraine said, her voice low and firm. “Position yourselves where she cannot see. Wait for my signal.”

Lan didn’t need to be told twice. Elyndria followed him up a sloping dune, her boots silent in the shifting sand. They crouched at the crest, shoulders brushing, and sank low behind the sunbaked sand, peering down into the small hollow Moiraine had chosen.

Moiraine stood alone in the open, her blue dress rippling around her legs in the dry wind. No cloak to conceal her, no mask to shield her features. She looked as composed as ever, but Elyndria could feel it—the faint buzz at the edge of her senses, a rising pressure like the air before a storm. The Sakarnen.

The ter’angreal pulsed faintly with light as Moiraine began to weave—not for battle, not yet. The flows danced like firelight over her hands, ribbons of Air and Spirit twisting in an elegant, deliberate display.

It wasn’t meant to harm. It was a beacon.

A whisper into the Pattern: I am here. Come find me.

Elyndria held her breath.

The sand ahead shimmered—and then she was there. As if she had stepped from behind a curtain no one else could see. Lanfear.

She walked like a shadow draped in moonlight, her gown black as the space between stars. It clung to her form like smoke, shifting with each step. The desert wind teased the fabric behind her like a living thing, trailing in her wake as if the night itself bowed to her.

Elyndria's breath caught in her throat.

The stark contrast of Lanfear’s black dress against the pale sand made her seem even more unreal—like a creature born of dream and nightmare both. Her beauty was undeniable, sharp as a blade’s edge, but it held no warmth. Only power. Cold, calculating, and ancient.

She moved quickly, the distance between her and Moiraine closing with terrifying purpose.

Elyndria gasped, barely more than a breath—but Lan’s hand shot out, firm and silent, covering her mouth before sound could escape.

His eyes were on hers, calm and unreadable, but his meaning was clear. Do not speak.

Elyndria swallowed hard and nodded.

Slowly, Lan withdrew his hand, returning his focus to the scene below.

She turned her gaze back to Moiraine, her heart pounding now.

Lanfear was nearly upon her.

Moiraine hadn’t seen her. Not yet.

And then Lanfear struck.

A searing bolt of the One Power, lightless and swift, cracked through the air and slammed into Moiraine’s side with a violent force that sent her hurtling across the sand. She hit the ground hard, skidding in a spray of dust and fabric, her blue dress stained and torn by the impact.

Elyndria’s breath hitched, her heart leaping to her throat.

Moiraine tried to rise, fingers clawing into the sand, but Lanfear was already upon her—appearing like a shadow folding in on itself. She moved with no sound, no hesitation, her hand weaving threads of saidar in the blink of an eye. Silvery light coiled around Moiraine’s throat, tightening as it yanked her head back. Moiraine choked, her face contorting in pain as the weave held her down, her feet scrabbling uselessly in the sand.

Elyndria’s hands curled into fists.

Her whole body thrummed with tension, her muscles tight and coiled like a drawn bow. She shifted instinctively forward—but Lan's firm grip on her arm stopped her. His expression was stone. Cold. Controlled. But his eyes never left the scene below, flicking between Moiraine’s struggle and the slow, stalking approach of Lanfear.

His hand tightened once on Elyndria’s arm—just enough to say not yet.

Every heartbeat was a hammer in her chest. Her eyes burned as she watched Moiraine choke beneath Lanfear’s grip. Rage stirred in her belly, fast and bright—but Lan’s touch, that silent command, held her back.

He knew what Moiraine would want. Knew what the plan demanded. Elyndria forced herself to stay still, even as her nails bit into her palms.

Moiraine writhed once more beneath Lanfear’s grasp—then stilled. Her limbs went slack, and for one terrifying moment, Elyndria thought she was gone. Lanfear leaned back, easing the weave as if to admire her work, a satisfied smile playing at her lips.

But Moiraine was not finished.

With a fierce cry, she flung her hands up, a surge of saidar exploding outward in a wave that struck Lanfear in the chest and hurled her several paces back. Sand sprayed into the air, caught in the force of the blast, as Moiraine scrambled upright, the Sakarnen clutched tightly in her hands, glowing faintly with restrained power.

“Now,” Lan growled, already in motion, sprinting down the dune like a silent predator unleashed.

Elyndria didn’t hesitate.

She followed him over the ridge, her boots hitting the sand hard, momentum carrying her straight into the fray. Her pulse roared in her ears, saidar already rushing to meet her, singing along her veins like the breath of fire and lightning.

Lanfear had just regained her footing when they reached her.

She stood still, her black dress billowing around her like smoke in the wind, Surprise flitted across her face—brief and sharp—before she composed herself, her smile curling in a way that made Elyndria’s skin crawl.

“Well,” she said, eyes flicking between the three of them. “What a delightful surprise.” Her gaze settled on Elyndria, sharp and knowing, and that smile twisted further. “And you… what a lovely shadow of Ilyena you make.”

Elyndria’s jaw clenched.

The name struck her like a slap, not for its meaning, but for the weight behind it—the manipulation in Lanfear’s voice, the venom disguised as charm.

The Power roared in Elyndria’s blood. She didn’t strike. Not yet.

She wouldn’t give Lanfear the satisfaction.

Instead, she drew herself up, staring back without flinching, the glow of saidar coiling visibly around her like a storm waiting to break.

Lanfear’s eyes flicked between them, her lips curling in amusement. “What a charming little trap,” she murmured, voice smooth as silk but laced with poison. “You couldn't resist the theatrics, Moiraine.”

Moiraine didn’t rise to the bait, breath steady as she stood with the Sakarnen in her grasp, its light flickering like heat over her hands. Her eyes were sharp, calculating.

“This isn’t for show, Lanfear. You walked into this of your own will.”

Lanfear’s gaze shifted. “And you brought her,” she said, eyes locking on Elyndria with something unreadable. “I didn't think you would. Still playing at Aes Sedai, a barmaid… or is it something else now? Tell me—do you even know who you are?”

Elyndria didn’t speak.

Her hands were at her sides, not clenched, not raised. But saidar thrummed beneath her skin like lightning waiting to strike. Lanfear’s words slid past her. She would not let herself get involved in whatever game Lanfear was trying to play.

Lan moved slightly to the side, blade glinting, posture loose—but Elyndria could feel the tension in him. A drawn bow, ready to snap.

“We end this now,” he said quietly.

Lanfear smiled, teeth just a little too sharp.

“Yes,” she agreed. “We do.”

And then she moved—fast, graceful, terrifying. There was no war cry, no warning. Just the sudden roar of power and the flare of light as the battle began.

The moment Lanfear sent a blast of power, Elyndria’s instincts screamed. She seized saidar, the power singing through her, and threw up a shield that barely held against the wave of force hurtling toward them. The air cracked with energy, hot and sharp like lightning splitting stone. Moiraine responded with precision, sending a lancing weave of fire that streaked toward Lanfear.

Elyndria didn’t wait. She added her strength to the fray, weaving fire and air into tight, brutal threads and hurling them toward Lanfear. Their weaves crashed together in bursts of brilliance—red, blue, silver flashing like a storm made of rage.

Lanfear snarled, caught off guard by the twofold assault. She began to stagger under the onslaught, shifting her focus between shielding and counterattacking. In that moment, her attention slipped.

Lan

Elyndria saw him—grim and determined, dodging the powerful blast as he headed towards Lanfear whose head snapped toward him too late, her eyes widening with fury as she sent a weave his way. Elyndria quickly created a weave intercepting Lanfear’s with a crack like thunder.

The force of it shook her to her bones, but she held, holding him safe. Just long enough.

Lan moved like a blade unsheathed—silent, lethal, inevitable. His sword struck true, slicing across Lanfear’s arm in a bright arc of steel.

Lanfear reeled back, gasping, her eyes wild as she looked at the blood blooming on her sleeve.

For a heartbeat, she looked… human. Shocked. Then her expression twisted into something dark and feral.

The blast that came next was pure, concentrated fury. Light and force collided into Lan before Elyndria or Moiraine could move. He flew backward, limbs limp, and hit the sand hard with a sickening crunch.

“Lan!” Elyndria cried, her voice ragged as she started toward him—but he didn’t get back up. He shifted once, weakly, and then slumped onto his side. Still.

Fear twisted in her stomach. She wanted to run to him, to make sure he was breathing, alive—but she couldn’t.

Not yet.

The air still rang with power, and Lanfear stood before them, bloodied and enraged, her beauty turned monstrous in the flickering light of saidar.

So Elyndria turned back, her hands already rising. The battle wasn’t done.

The air shimmered with heat, a prickling charge of energy that felt like a storm about to break. Elyndria’s heart hammered in her chest, but she forced herself to stay still, to think clearly.

Lanfear’s eyes locked onto Moiraine, her gaze like a hawk tracking prey. She raised her hands in a swift, cruel motion, and Elyndria saw the power rippling toward Moiraine—too late, too fast. Moiraine tried to react, but the weave slammed into her first.

Elyndria saw her stagger, pushed back, and then she was flying through the air, skidding across the sand like a doll tossed by a child’s hand. The desert seemed to swallow her whole, leaving nothing but the faintest trace of her blue gown in the wind.

Now it was just Lanfear and Elyndria.

The woman’s smirk spread slowly, almost savoring the moment.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to end your soul,” she purred. “I was so utterly disappointed to find out that Ilyena had died without me there to watch the light go out of her eyes. I suppose I’ll just have to settle for you.”

Elyndria’s chest tightened with rage—raw, unrestrained fury at the twisted woman standing before her.

“Don’t you dare speak her name,” she hissed, her hands already moving, already reaching for the power. Her anger gave her strength, and she wove it into something pure and bright.

Lanfear laughed, the sound cold, almost mocking.

Elyndria didn’t care. The light came alive in her, blazing like a sun borne in her chest. A surge of power shot out of her, and with it came a blast of light so intense it seemed to tear the very air apart.

Lanfear raised her hands in a vain attempt to shield herself from the blinding brilliance, her smirk faltering as the light overwhelmed her. She was pushed back, her body forced off balance by the sheer force of the power, until she stumbled onto her knees in the sand. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her breath ragged as she glared up at Elyndria.

The light still shimmered around Elyndria, an aura of raw power, burning and unforgiving.

Lanfear’s pride and composure cracked for a moment, and for the first time, Elyndria saw a flicker of vulnerability in the woman’s eyes.

For a moment, time hung suspended, the light gleaming between them like a fragile bridge. Elyndria stood tall, her breathing heavy but steady.

“You’ll never know true love, Lanfear,” she said, her voice low and cold, “You’re too twisted for anyone to ever accept you. Not Rand. And not Lews Therin.” A bitter smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she took a step forward, her voice dropping with the weight of every word.

“Considering Lews tossed you away like a discarded old toy, I’m sure it stings a little.”

Lanfear’s eyes flashed, her fury rising like an inferno. 

But Elyndria felt it then—the absolute truth of what she had just said. For all her power, all her beauty, Lanfear was alone. Her love not returned by the ones she had loved, forced to watch the man she wanted be with someone else.

And Elyndria would make sure she knew it.

The sand beneath Elyndria’s boots shifted like an ocean, the ground rippling with tension. Lanfear was back on her feet now, eyes narrowing as she glared at Elyndria, a dangerous twist to her lips. The light was still with Elyndria, its warmth burning in her chest, but Lanfear’s power was no less deadly.

Elyndria didn’t hesitate.

The light coursed through her again, and with a flick of her wrist, a tornado of sand rose from the ground, swirling around her in a vicious spiral. The air screamed, the dust cutting through the wind, the chaos blinding in its ferocity. The sand cut into her skin like a thousand tiny knives, but Elyndria didn’t care. The whirlwind was a perfect distraction, blinding Lanfear and obscuring her vision.

Taking advantage of the disorientation, Elyndria focused, channeling more of her lightweaving. Five illusions of herself sprang to life, each one mimicking her movements, weaving in and out of the sandstorm.

Lanfear’s eyes darted between the illusions, growing more frantic with each passing moment. Her gaze flickered, confused by the sudden multiplicity. Elyndria watched with satisfaction as Lanfear’s control slipped, her focus weakening under the constant barrage of trickery.

For a moment, the illusions seemed to freeze the air itself, and Elyndria slipped to one side, unseen by Lanfear’s narrowing eyes. She reached into the pocket of her skirt, fingers brushing the cold steel of one of her hidden blades. The instant it was in her hand, she lunged from the edge of the tornado, slipping through the dust and slashing across Lanfear’s stomach.

Lanfear gasped, the sound sharp and shocked, as the blade cut through her black dress and into her flesh. The wound was shallow but enough to draw a quick, breathless cry of pain from the woman. Her eyes blazed with fury, and she staggered back, hands instinctively clutching at her stomach as if to stop the flow of blood, her face contorting in disbelief.

For a moment, Elyndria’s breath caught in her throat, the heat of the battle making her pulse race.

She had landed a hit.

She could feel the power coursing through her veins, but her focus didn’t falter. The moment was fleeting.

Before Elyndria could react further, Lanfear’s eyes locked onto the blade, and with a sharp twist of her wrist, a powerful weave of air flung Elyndria’s hidden blade from her grasp. It flew through the air, far out of reach, landing with a dull thud in the sand. Elyndria’s heart skipped, her hand reaching instinctively for another weapon, but Lanfear’s fury was already upon her.

Lanfear’s power surged, a dark cloud gathering around her as she raised her arms, sending a blast of force so violent that Elyndria was thrown backward.

Elyndria landed hard on the sand, the air knocked from her lungs. Grit filled her mouth as she scrambled back to her feet, light already flickering at her fingertips.

Across from her, Lanfear stood tall, blood trailing darkly down her side, but her beauty remained unnervingly untouched, her presence like a blade wrapped in silk.

“Clever,” Lanfear hissed, the word dripping disdain. “But clever does not make you my equal.”

Elyndria didn’t respond. There was no space for words—only movement, instinct, and the desperate roar of survival in her blood.

She dove to the side as a spear of fire lanced toward her, the heat searing her shoulder even as she dodged. The weave had been fast—too fast. Lanfear was no slouch, and now that the illusions were gone, her fury was focused. Elyndria retaliated with a slicing arc of air, aimed to sweep Lanfear’s legs from under her. Lanfear absorbed it with a flick of her wrist, barely shifting in the sand, and sent a jagged web of ice toward Elyndria’s midsection.

The younger woman barely managed a barrier of air in time. The ice shattered against it, shards clinking like glass to the ground around her. She panted, sweat beading on her brow, her cream colored tunic dark with it.

She’s pushing me. She’s fast. Precise. Light, she's strong.

But she was also arrogant.

Elyndria took a step back, drawing on the light once more—not raw force this time, but finesse. Her weaves danced like wind in her fingers, intricate and controlled. A flare of bright light shot up beside Lanfear, dazzling and sudden. Not enough to injure, but enough to make her flinch. She struck in that blink of hesitation, sending threads of air to bind Lanfear’s arms, followed by a burst of fire meant to catch her mid-thigh.

But Lanfear was already moving. She spun like a dancer, the fire passing harmlessly behind her, her own weave cutting through Elyndria’s bindings as though they were threads.

“You’re trying too hard,” Lanfear said with a wicked smile. “You think rage makes up for centuries of experience?”

Elyndria gritted her teeth, refusing to let Lanfear’s voice worm its way into her mind. She moved again, light weaving from her in arcs—delicate and fast. It shimmered and danced, coalescing into a sudden dome of reflected mirages, confusing and blurring her outline as she ducked low, using the shifting refractions to cover her sprint.

She rolled beneath another fiery blast, heat licking her legs. Her fingers brushed sand—and a smooth handle. Another blade. Her second.

Lanfear’s weave came too late.

Elyndria slashed out, cutting the edge of Lanfear’s thigh. Not deep—but enough to stagger her.

Lanfear screamed, whirling on her with murder in her eyes. The air around them exploded as Lanfear’s fury boiled over. She sent a crushing wall of air, and Elyndria was hurled back again. She tumbled across the sand, her back arching as pain flared in her ribs.

She forced herself up, one hand pressed to her side. Something was bruised. Maybe cracked. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

“You may be older,” Elyndria growled, her voice raw as she raised her hands. “But I'm strong. And I'm not afraid of you.”

Lanfear stalked forward, dark hair wild in the wind, her dress fluttering like smoke.

“You should be.”

Light burst around Elyndria again. Smaller this time. Sharper. Five brilliant motes shaped like spears shimmered into being behind her and launched forward. Lanfear caught two mid-air with a wall of Spirit. One burned past her, another scraped her shoulder, the last exploded in a flash of searing brightness that forced her to shield her eyes.

Elyndria took that chance to retreat a few paces, putting distance between them. She was running out of strength. Her limbs ached. Her channeling was slower now, her breathing ragged.

Lanfear straightened again, lip curled. “You fight well... for a child.”

Elyndria didn’t rise to the bait. She steadied herself, grounding in the familiar stance she’d trained in with sisters of the Green. Her fingers flexed, the light still within her—dimmed, but steady.

She couldn’t overpower Lanfear. Not alone.

But she didn’t need to win.

She just had to hold her.

Just a little longer.

Elyndria’s lungs burned as she pivoted, weaving fire and air into a spinning lance and hurling it toward Lanfear. The Forsaken sidestepped with unsettling grace, her silken black dress rippling as she caught the weave mid-air and shredded it into harmless sparks.

No time to hesitate.

Elyndria wove again, faster—threads of earth and fire thrusting up from the ground, jagged spikes of stone erupting beneath Lanfear’s feet. The Forsaken leapt backward, one spike grazing the hem of her gown, tearing a strip of black fabric.

A sharp hiss escaped Lanfear’s lips. Her smirk twisted into something colder.

"You dare," she breathed—and retaliated.

A hammer of compressed air slammed into Elyndria’s side. She twisted with it, lessening the blow, landing hard on one knee but already gathering saidar again. Before Lanfear could press her advantage, Elyndria struck with a net of pure spirit, threads spun thin as hair, trying to bind the Forsaken's arms.

Lanfear snarled, shredding the net with brute force.

Their weaves collided in the air—blades of fire clashing against walls of ice, bursts of light and shrapnel-like sand exploding around them. Elyndria moved constantly, weaving while ducking and rolling across the dunes, using the shifting sands to make herself harder to hit.

A ribbon of lightning snapped overhead, narrowly missing her.

Elyndria threw herself into a shoulder roll, pain sparking in her ribs, but she came up weaving—a focused blast of air and fire that roared toward Lanfear's chest. Lanfear raised a shield of air to deflect it, but the impact shoved her back two steps, her hair whipping wildly around her face.

For a heartbeat, Elyndria saw surprise flicker in the Forsaken’s dark eyes.

Seizing the opening, Elyndria wove again—this time manipulating the sand itself. She sent a sudden whirl of heated air spiraling upward, sand caught in the current like a living storm. The mini-tornado roared between them, the air thick and choking.

Elyndria darted to the side, weaving a sharp-edged disk of solidified light. She hurled it through the spinning sandstorm, aiming low.

But Lanfear sensed it.

She swept a hand out. Air and fire erupted from her in a shockwave, flattening the tornado in an instant and turning Elyndria’s own weave against her. The light-disk shattered into a thousand burning fragments that stung Elyndria’s exposed skin like hot needles.

Gritting her teeth, Elyndria forced herself up—and barely dodged as a spike of hardened earth shot toward her stomach.

She retaliated without thinking, weaving a whip of pure fire that cracked across Lanfear’s thigh. The Forsaken hissed and stumbled, a thin line of burnt cloth and skin marking where the whip struck.

But Elyndria’s success was short-lived.

Lanfear's face twisted in rage.

"Enough!" she spat, her voice ringing across the battlefield.

The air hardened around Elyndria, sudden and crushing. Invisible hands seized her by the shoulders and slammed her into the ground. She cried out as her body struck the packed sand. Pain exploded in her leg—a sickening, wet CRACK that echoed across the dunes. A scream tore itself from Elyndria’s throat as she clutched her shattered knee.

The world blurred, the sky tilting crazily above her. Agony tore through her leg like lightning. Her knee bent at an unnatural angle, and she laid crumbled in the sand, choking on pain and grit. Sweat and blood slicked her skin.

The One Power flickered inside her—distant now, like a candle guttering in a storm.

Footsteps crunched in the sand.

Lanfear strode closer, her dress torn and her lip bleeding, but her smile was viciously triumphant.

 “Well,” Lanfear said, voice low with amusement. “You lasted longer than I expected.”

Elyndria barely had time to brace herself before invisible hands gripped her. She was yanked into the air, legs dangling uselessly beneath her. Her head lolled slightly, pain fogging her thoughts.

Lanfear tilted her head, studying her like one might a strange painting.

“I suppose you are a better fighter than Ilyena,” she said, as though the compliment disgusted her. “She much preferred hosting parties and playing the gracious wife. Always smiling. Always loved.” Lanfear hummed, a strange, haunting sound. “You’re nothing like her. You’re fire and steel.” Her fingers moved again—delicate, deadly.

A weave.

Sudden, blinding pain lanced through Elyndria’s shoulder as it was wrenched from its socket with a brutal jerk. Her scream echoed over the sands, raw and helpless. She convulsed in the air, tears springing unbidden to her eyes.

“What a little warrior you are,” Lanfear purred, stepping closer. “A perfect little Green of the White Tower. Always rushing into battles that aren’t yours to win.”

Her smile faltered.

Something glinted in the sand.

Lanfear bent, curious, and plucked it from the earth. A sword—familiar, weighty in her pale fingers.

Lan’s blade.

Elyndria’s heart lurched.

“How poetic,” Lanfear whispered, eyes gleaming. “To be run through by your ally’s sword. A Warder’s blade through your traitorous little heart. A true warrior’s death.”

She stepped forward again, raising the sword. Her arms curled over her head in practiced rhythm, the point of the blade glittering like ice.

“Show me your eyes,” she said softly. “Let me see your final breath.”

Elyndria said nothing looking down at the sand in front of her.

Her jaw clenched. Blood trickled down her chin from a split lip. Her broken leg throbbed, her shoulder hung limp, every heartbeat a drumbeat of pain.

Still, she didn't close her eyes.

She refused.

The shadow of the blade reached toward her in the sand. She watched it come. She didn’t blink.

If I die, I die without flinching.

 The sword plunged forward—

—but a roar split the air.

Lanfear shrieked in rage as a solid wall of spirit slammed into her, hurling her backward. The grip holding Elyndria shattered, and she dropped heavily onto the sand, coughing, blinking up through tears of pain. The sand swallowed her. She curled instinctively, trying not to scream again, breath hitching in her throat.

Boots passed her.

Familiar, precise.

Cool and unshakable.

Moiraine.

“You will not lay another finger on Elyndria.”

The Blue Aes Sedai’s voice cracked like thunder, sharp and unyielding as steel drawn in defense.

Relief surged through Elyndria like a breaking wave.

She turned her head weakly, tears mingling with sweat and blood, and watched Moiraine stride past her, flame already flickering in her hands. Poised. Controlled. Unrelenting.

Elyndria's body screamed with every breath. Pain pulsed from her shattered knee, her dislocated shoulder hanging useless beside her. Her head pounded, the world tilting and darkening at the edges.

She blinked furiously, fighting the heavy pull of unconsciousness.

Stay awake. Please… stay awake.

Through half-lidded eyes, she watched.

Moiraine moved like a blade forged in winter—cool, sharp, resolute. Flame danced along her fingertips, forming shields, slicing air, striking in swift, precise arcs. Lanfear was everywhere and nowhere, cloaked in veils of shadow, her weaves a swirl of black and silver smoke that pulsed with wrongness.

They circled each other like wolves, weaving and unraveling, striking and deflecting. Elyndria could barely follow the motions—light flared, darkness twisted, shockwaves shattered the sand between them.

She blinked again, vision swimming.

And then—

Moiraine gasped. Not just pain—but shock.

The sound sliced through the wind and Elyndria’s breath caught.

She forced her eyes open.

Through the dust, through the firelight, she saw it—

Lanfear’s smirk widening, her silhouette haloed by shadow. And just below that… the glint of steel. Not hers.

Lan’s blade.

Pierced through Moiraine’s stomach.

No…

Blood poured down Moiraine’s front, soaking the blue of her dress, painting the sand red. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but only a thick choke came—wet, strangled—dark red bubbling on her lips.

Elyndria couldn’t breathe.

Lanfear leaned close, one hand still controlling the threads of shadow that had hidden the blade. Her mouth moved—low words, quiet as death itself, spoken directly into Moiraine’s ear.

Elyndria’s fingers clawed at the sand. Her legs refused to move. Her body wouldn’t respond.

“No…” Her voice was barely a whisper, lost in the wind. “Moiraine…”

Neither woman looked at her.

Lanfear still smiled.

Moiraine swayed, lips trembling, face pale as moonlight. Blood glistened on her chin. Then a sound came from her—raw and guttural, nothing like Moiraine’s usual quiet grace. It rose deep from her throat, a sound not just of pain but of something far deeper—grief, rage, defiance, all wound together in one shuddering cry.

“No!” Moiraine’s voice rang out like a thunderclap, splintering the air.

Her hands rose and the One Power flared in blinding white-blue light. A concussive blast of force erupted outward—Spirit, Air, Fire woven into a brutal tide—and Lanfear was hurled backward, her smirk finally wiped away by stunned surprise as she stumbled through the sand, catching herself hard on one hand.

Elyndria blinked tears from her eyes, vision swimming, heart pounding.

Moiraine staggered, then reached to her abdomen. Her fingers curled around the hilt of Lan’s sword. With a choked cry, she ripped the blade from her gut.

The sound it made turned Elyndria’s stomach. Moiraine’s legs nearly buckled, but she stayed standing, blood pouring down her front in a crimson torrent. Her eyes met Lanfear’s—and they were incandescent.

Grief burned behind them.

Grief. And wrath.

The sa’angreal in her hand—the Sakarnen—flared like a second sun, bathing the field in a cold white light. Moiraine didn’t flinch as Lanfear sent a fresh blast toward her.

She turned it aside with a sharp twist of her wrist, sending it veering harmlessly away. The force of it kicked up a whirlwind of sand, but Moiraine strode through it unshaken, like judgment given form.

Her steps grew faster. Stronger.

Each weave she threw was heavier now—no longer precise and measured, but violent, vicious. Fire lanced toward Lanfear’s feet, forcing her to leap. A net of Air coiled around her legs, dragging her down. Lanfear snarled, trying to unravel the weaves, but Moiraine was already there—her free hand blazing with the Power.

Then—

Steel flashed.

Lan’s sword sang through the air. Moiraine swung it with no hesitation, no pause.

The blade caught Lanfear clean across the throat.

Elyndria gasped, frozen, eyes wide.

Blood sprayed.

Lanfear’s eyes widened in disbelief. Her hands clawed to her neck, trying to stanch the flood that gushed between her fingers. She gurgled—a hideous, bubbling sound—and reeled backward, power flickering wildly in her hands.

Even then, she retaliated.

A final blast.

It caught Moiraine square in the chest and hurled her through the air. Moiraine struck the sand hard, her body tumbling once, twice—then came to a sudden halt

Lanfear staggered, eyes dimming, blood pouring from her neck. Her hands twitched, weaving something desperate and flickering—barely held together. A shimmer in the air appeared behind her—a gateway, not whole, not stable. A pale slit in reality that flickered like a dying candle. The Forsaken stumbled backward into it, her movements sluggish, blood trailing behind her in long arcs.

She disappeared into the gateway.

And the door vanished.

Elyndria turned her head, neck trembling with the effort, and saw Moiraine still sprawled in the sand. Blood streaked across her gown in deep crimson waves, her chest heaving. But her eyes—Light, her eyes were open. Still watching. Still alive.

Relief trembled through Elyndria like a breath she'd been holding for hours. Her limbs felt like lead, her bones shards of fire beneath her skin, but she exhaled—shaky, uneven, but whole.

Then she heard footsteps pounding across the sand.

“Moiraine!”

Lan.

He dropped to his knees beside her, sand flying in his wake. With arms that were both strong and infinitely gentle, he lifted her upright and cradled her against his chest. His face was stricken, pale beneath the grime and sweat. He didn’t speak at first—only held her as if she might vanish from his arms.

And Moiraine… Moiraine began to cry.

Not the silent, composed tears of a noble Aes Sedai, but broken sobs that shook her entire frame. She looked up at the sky, lips trembling, voice splintering as she repeated over and over, “She’s dead. I felt her die. I felt her die.”

Lan closed his eyes tightly, forehead pressed to hers, as though trying to anchor her with the strength of his silence alone.

Elyndria grit her teeth and began to move.

She dragged herself across the sand, arms trembling with every inch. Pain lanced through her shoulder and knee with each breath and movement, but she forced herself onward, her fingers clawing at the ground. No sound escaped her lips—not a scream, not a gasp. She wouldn’t waste breath on pain. Not now.

Moiraine needed her. She could see Lan’s hands were now pressed to her side, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it was already soaking through his fingers, warm and red and unrelenting.

Closer.

She was closer.

“Moiraine,” she rasped, reaching out. Her voice was barely audible over the wind. “Moiraine, hold on…”

Moiraine didn’t seem to hear her—her gaze fixed on the sky, “No…” she whispered, voice barely audible. “No, no, no—” Her hands clutched at Lan’s tunic, as if she could anchor herself to him, to something, anything. “She’s dead,” Moiraine gasped. “I felt it. Through the bond. I felt her die—Siuan—”Moiraine’s voice cracked as she repeated the name, over and over, her cries thick with anguish. Her gaze turned skyward, as if searching for something among the clouds. A soul. A memory. A farewell. 

Elyndria froze.

Siuan.

The name struck her like a slap—first confusion, then sharp, jolting realization.

She had known there was a closeness between Moiraine and the Amyrlin Seat. Glimpses, hints, especially after witnessing the moment between them at Cairhien. A bond forged in youth, perhaps. Friendship. Trust. But this—this—the way Moiraine wept, the way her soul seemed to crumble as she repeated that name…

A bond.

They had shared a bond.

And now, it was broken.

Shock spread like frost through Elyndria’s chest. Her breath hitched. The Amyrlin is dead. Her mind reeled at the weight of it, the enormity. How? When? The world tilted around her. And still—she did not doubt it. Not for a moment. The heartbreak carved into Moiraine’s face was too raw, too real, to be anything but truth.

Sorrow welled in Elyndria’s heart, swelling until it choked her. Tears pricked her eyes, unexpected and hot.

Though she no longer held the same loyalties to the White Tower as she once had—too much had changed—she could not pretend Siuan had not mattered. Siuan had always believed in the Tower. Had fought for unity. For strength. For fairness. She treated all Sisters as equals, no matter their Ajah. Elyndria remembered that steel-backed dignity, those shrewd eyes, that quiet belief that the Tower could be better.

She swallowed her grief and pressed forward. Moiraine needed her. Light, she needs me now.

Her hand shook as she reached out, the movement trembling with exhaustion. She pressed her palm gently against Moiraine’s blood-slicked stomach. Her skin was cold. Too cold.

Elyndria opened herself to the Source.

Saidar flooded her—soft, vast, brilliant. For a moment it steadied her. The weave came instinctively: threads of Spirit, Water, and Air braided with careful precision. Her fingers moved slightly, guiding the weaves, pressing them into Moiraine’s torn flesh. Closing veins. Mending muscle. Cooling the fever heat of pain.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered, voice barely audible, lips close to Moiraine’s ear. “Stay with us. Light, please stay with us.”

Moiraine didn’t answer, but her breath came more steadily. Her sobs softened, though tears still slid down her cheeks.

Elyndria wove more. She murmured soft, wordless sounds—comforting, anchoring, steadying Moiraine as much as herself. She focused only on the healing, willing her hands to remain steady. Her vision blurred once, then again, and she blinked hard, trying to stay present.

More blood. Less blood. No blood.

She felt the wound knit beneath her palm.

Relief tried to flood her—but there was no room for it. Only exhaustion.

Her hands slipped away from Moiraine’s side. The weaves faded.

Elyndria exhaled, trembling. Her whole body felt hollowed out, scraped raw. Her vision dimmed around the edges. She blinked once more, then wavered.

And then—finally—she let go.

Her body folded sideways into the sand, landing with a soft thump. She didn’t even cry out.

Pain ebbed into darkness.

And she knew no more.