The Wheel of Kin: A Daughter's Journey

And when the seasons change 🎶

In the hazy corridors of a childhood dream, Elara, a mere four years old, frolics outside an isolated building nestled in the woods. The distant cries of Trollocs pierce the air, and with a sense of urgency, she scurries indoors, locking the door behind her. Beneath a table where a clandestine meeting is underway, Elara cowers, stealing glimpses of the hooded figures gathered within.

Among the enigmatic attendees are a Whitecloak, a Seanchan noblewoman, an Aes Sedai bearing a black ring, a Shienaran soldier, and others. The central figure, Ishamael, speaks of the elusive Dragon, the one who walks the world.

"Where is he now, the one who walks the world, the one who was and will be but is not yet the Dragon?"

A woman queries if they are to kill him, to which Ishamael suggests the possibility of turning him to his use. As he addresses the gathering, he notices Elara beneath the table.

"Excuse me. We're in the middle of a meeting. A quite important one, really."

Elara, alarmed, looks towards the door.

"Oh. Let me guess. There's something outside. A monster, perhaps?"

Guiding her hand, Ishamael leads Elara towards the door.

"A lot of people call me a monster, too, you know. Along with a litany of other unflattering names. Father of Lies. Betrayer of Hope. Forsaken. Do you know why they call me and the other Chosen such hideous things?"

Elara, innocent and curious, shakes her head.

"'Cause if they called me what I really am, no one would be afraid."

Outside, Trollocs await. Ishamael kneels before Elara.

"Look at me. Do I look like a monster to you?"

Elara shakes her head, "No."

Ishamael with a light chuckle, " I knew I liked you."

He stands and lifts up Elara, holding her on his hip to look at the Trolloc. He reaches out, caressing the side of the Trolloc's face, and the creature leans into his touch.

"You see? It's all right. Go on. You try."

As Elara reaches out to touch a Trolloc, the scene shifts, and the present-day. 

Elara awoke with a start, her childhood dreams of Tel'aran'rhiod fading like mist upon waking. The vivid memories of that meeting in the dreamworld lingered, and as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, she realized she was surrounded by the ominous seals of the Forsaken. The bed felt both comforting and confining, as if the room itself held the weight of untold secrets.

A chill ran down Elara's spine as the recollection of the hooded figures and Ishamael's unsettling words replayed in her mind. The room, adorned with the symbols of the Forsaken, bespoke a connection to the dreamworld she had traversed since childhood. This was no ordinary place, and the significance of her surroundings began to dawn upon her.

Gathering her resolve, Elara swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. The air was heavy with an ancient malevolence that seemed to seep from the very walls. As she examined the room, she noted the intricate details of the seals, each bearing the mark of a Forsaken and the memories of Tel'aran'rhiod.

The door creaked open, revealing a figure shrouded in shadow. Ishamael, the one who had guided her through the dreamscape of her youth, now stood before her in the waking world. His presence sent shivers down her spine, a reminder of the complex dance between Light and Shadow.

"You remembered our encounter in the dreamworld?"

Elara nodded, her gaze steady despite the unease that clung to her.