The Wheel of Time with a Twist

Through the Red Doorway

Please, Moiraine, don't, Lan thought. The Warder bond would only let her feel his despair, his regret, his anger.

He was slumped against a wall, still partly in shock he couldn't afford right now. He tried to move his limbs and got a pitiful twitch from his leg. No pain. That he ignored. Lan's sword lay inches away from his outstretched hand. He heard the screaming, saw the fire, but only distantly.

He was a hard man, a cold man. His childhood had been rougher than most. Before meeting Moiraine, he'd had one goal: avenge Malkier. Avenge his fallen friends. It was his duty. Avenge what cannot be defended.

Then a cloaked noblewoman had followed him on his way to the Borderlands. And tried to steal his sword. So, naturally, he threw her into a pond.

'Lady Alys,' she'd called herself. Within the next week, she'd managed to convince his companions to defend her while she accompanied them, set quite a few species of bugs on him, and almost get him killed. The latter was not the last time she'd do it.

Eventually, she told him her name was Moiraine and she was an Aes Sedai on a quest to find the Dragon Reborn. She asked for him to become her Warder. Here he was.

Over the twenty years they'd been bonded, Moiraine had changed Lan. Some of his icy façade had melted to make room for the care he had for her. And then for Nynaeve. His mission had changed as well – main mission at least – to become her mission. They searched for near twenty years, Moiraine aware and self-conscious of how she had burst into his life.

He now realized that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. His life had become much more purposeful since she had entered it. But now she was going to exit it.

Lan felt Moiraine's determination strongest, over sorrow and pride. She knew he knew what she had to do.

He glanced over at his sword with emotionless eyes. A voice, his mentor's, Bukama, rang clear in his head. Duty is heavier than a mountain, boy. You can't move that mountain. Walking around it would be foolish. You have to go through, you have to accept the mountain, the duty. No matter the price.

No matter the price, Lan thought grimly. Duty is heavier than a mountain. Death is lighter than a feather. With that, he snapped out of his thoughts and shock. He grasped the sword and pushed himself off the ground. But it was too late.

He saw a small figure creep up behind Lanfear. Lanfear, who was shouting at Rand al'Thor, who was torturing Egwene al'Vere. Only the figure mattered. Lan realized he was running toward her, yet he was too far away.

A shout – no, a roar burst from the lungs of a woman who seemed too small to produce such a sound. She tackled the Forsaken into one of the ter'angreal; a red doorframe. As soon as they were through, it began to melt.

Lan was still running, but then he wasn't. He was caught in midair, unable to move, only capable of staring at the place where Moiraine disappeared.

"There's nothing you can do, Lan," Rand said from behind him. His voice trembled.

"I know." He sounded so . . . helpless.

Rand released the weaves of Air holding him in place. Lan only straightened himself, a tear escaping from his eye.

"She is gone. I cannot feel her," he said softly before turning away towards Mandarb. And he could not.