The Wheel of Kin: A Daughter's Journey

A Dreamwalker's Nightmare

The moonlight spilled through the delicate curtains of the Amyrlin's quarters in soft silvery streaks, casting shadows across the intricate patterns of the tiled floor. The air was still, the only sound the faint rustling of silk as Moiraine and Siuan Sanche lay nestled beneath a shared blanket, their fingers loosely intertwined beneath the sheets, legs tangled as if reluctant to part even in sleep.

Moiraine lay on her side, facing Siuan, their foreheads having touched just moments ago in whispered laughter and lingering kisses. The flame between them, so often hidden under layers of formality and silence, burned quiet and steady tonight. In this rare sanctuary of time, they were not Amyrlin and Aes Sedai.

They were simply Moiraine and Siuan.

Lovers. Partners. Mothers.

But peace, for them, was always fleeting.

As Moiraine drifted into sleep, her breathing deepened, her body relaxing into the warmth of Siuan's side. Siuan remained awake for a few more moments, eyes soft with affection as she watched her, brushing a knuckle gently along Moiraine's cheek.

"I love you," she whispered.

Moiraine stirred faintly but did not wake.

In dreams, the world shifted.

Moiraine stood barefoot on a barren battlefield, the sky overhead choked with smoke and red fire. Blood soaked the earth, the bodies of fallen warriors fading in and out like ghosts. The sound of steel clashing rang in the distance—but it was muffled, dream-warped, disjointed.

And in the center of it all stood Elara.

Small. Alone. Sword in hand. Her  braid torn loose. Her clothes darkened with blood and ash. A shadow loomed before her—man-shaped, but faceless. Darkness dripped from its form like oil.

"Elara!" Moiraine screamed.

Her daughter turned to look at her, blood smeared across her cheek.

"Mothers, help!" Elara cried, her voice desperate, pleading. "Please!"

Moiraine ran toward her, but her feet sank into the mud, the world slowing as if the dream itself resisted her will. Elara was pulled backward by invisible hands. The faceless shadow opened its arms wide.

"No! Please!" Moiraine cried. "Don't take her—don't take her from me!"

She reached forward, screaming—

And woke with a jolt.

Sweat clung to her skin, dampening the sheets. Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her face, dragging in ragged breaths. The room was dark but familiar, her heart still pounding against her ribs.

Beside her, Siuan sat up at once. "Moiraine?"

Moiraine turned to her slowly, her voice hoarse. "I saw her. Elara. Bleeding. Calling for us."

Siuan reached out, gently brushing damp curls from her forehead. "A dream?"

"A nightmare," Moiraine whispered. "It felt too real. She felt real."

Siuan's brow furrowed. "Was it a foretelling? A warning?"

"I don't know." Moiraine swallowed. "But we can't keep hiding from this. Her dreams... they're reaching into ours. We can't shield her much longer."

Siuan's voice was low, steady. "Then we tell her. Tomorrow."

Moiraine looked at her.

"I'll tell her," Siuan added. "She deserves to hear it from me... from us."

Moiraine nodded. "No more secrets."

They leaned into each other, foreheads resting together in the dark, holding onto that promise as tightly as they held each other.

*

Elsewhere in the Tower

Elara stirred in her sleep, her breath uneven, her fingers curling around the edge of her blanket. Her dreams, always vivid, had taken a darker turn tonight. She had drifted easily at first—slipping into the dreams of sisters, novices, and a Warder or two with idle curiosity.

But then... she felt her mother.

Moiraine's dream called to her like a whisper through fog, and Elara, driven by instinct, followed it.

She stood inside her mother's nightmare.

She saw herself—bleeding, crying—and her mother screaming in terror, calling her name like it was the only thing that mattered.

"No, please!" Moiraine sobbed within the dream. "Don't take her from me!"

Elara watched in horror as her mother collapsed to her knees, sobbing.

It was more than a dream. It was raw. Real. Moiraine's anguish clung to Elara's skin like fire, wrapping around her heart.

She tried to leave the dream.

But something held her there.

The shadow from before now reached for her—its faceless form shifting toward her, drawn by her presence.

Elara turned to run.

*

In the waking world, Lan Mandragoran sat just outside her room, sharpening a blade by candlelight. When he heard the first rustling from her bed, he didn't react. She often stirred while Dreamwalking. A murmur. A twitch.

Then came the scream.

Piercing. Gut-wrenching. Terrified.

Lan was on his feet in seconds, sword dropped, instincts sharpened by a thousand battles.

He burst into the room.

Elara thrashed violently in bed, her body rigid, breath coming in sharp gasps. Her eyes were closed, but tears streamed from the corners.

"Elara!" Lan rushed to her side, gripping her shoulders. "Wake up! Come back!"

But she didn't respond.

Her body jolted again, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Her skin was cold with sweat.

"Light," Lan hissed.

He didn't hesitate.

Scooping her into his arms, he cradled her close and strode from the room.

He didn't stop. Not for stairs, not for curious novices, not even for questions. He moved like a storm—unstoppable.

By the time he reached the Healing Hall, two Yellow sisters rushed forward with weaves already forming in their hands.

Lan laid Elara gently on the cot, his jaw clenched tight as they began working—one on her breathing, the other weaving delving threads over her forehead.

"She's Dreamwalking," one of them whispered. "But she's stuck. Something's caught her."

Lan paced at the edge of the room, fists clenched. "Moiraine will come. She'll know what to do."

And in Elara's mind, the shadow loomed closer still, drawn by the truth she was not yet ready to see.By the time he reached the Healing Hall, two Yellow sisters rushed forward with weaves already forming in their hands.

Lan laid Elara gently on the cot, his jaw clenched tight as they began working—one on her breathing, the other weaving delving threads over her forehead.

"She's Dreamwalking," one of them whispered. "But she's stuck. Something's caught her."

Lan paced at the edge of the room, fists clenched. "Moiraine will come. She'll know what to do."

And in Elara's mind, the shadow loomed closer still, drawn by the truth she was not yet ready to see.