The Unseen Power

Echoes in the Stone

The White Tower loomed ahead, an ivory monolith against the twilight sky. Lan, his face an unreadable mask, led Oman through a maze of winding streets and hidden courtyards. The air crackled with tension, a stark contrast to the carefree days Oman had spent exploring the wilds.

Inside the Tower, the air hung heavy with the scent of old parchment and burning incense. Aes Sedai women in their flowing blue cloaks bustled past, their faces etched with concern. Oman felt a pang of envy – a yearning for a place within these hallowed walls, a yearning she knew could never be fulfilled.

Reaching a secluded hallway, Lan stopped before a heavy oak door. He knocked, the sound echoing through the silence. A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing Moiraine Sedai.

Moiraine's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Oman. Relief battled with a flicker of something deeper – perhaps worry, perhaps a flicker of the same yearning Oman felt. "Oman," she breathed, her voice laced with a tremor. "What brings you here?"

"It seems the weave had other plans," Oman replied, offering a wry smile. "Lan found me in a dusty tavern."

Moiraine's gaze flicked to Lan, who stood impassive beside Oman. A silent exchange passed between them, unspoken words filling the air. Oman felt a tinge of jealousy, a reminder that Moiraine wasn't solely hers to claim.

"Come in," Moiraine said, gesturing them into the room.

The room was a study in order – bookshelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes. In the center stood a large table, maps and scrolls spread across its surface. Siuan Sanche paced back and forth beside the table, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Oman," Siuan greeted, her voice cool but laced with a hint of curiosity. "We weren't expecting you."

"The weave wouldn't let me stay idle," Oman said, her voice firm. "It's out of balance, Siuan. There's a darkness stirring."

Siuan stopped pacing, her eyes narrowing. "Darkness? We haven't felt anything unusual in the flows."

Oman shook her head. "It's not a traditional taint. It's different. Like a discordant note in a familiar melody."

Moiraine stepped forward, her gaze searching Oman's face. "Where did you feel this discordance?"

Oman recounted her journey – the Trolloc attack, the whispers in the wind, the unsettling pull that had led her to the tavern and ultimately back to Tar Valon. As she spoke, a grave silence descended upon the room.

Finally, Lan spoke, his voice low and gravelly. "Trollocs attacking a town this far north it's unusual."

"Perhaps," Siuan mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "But it could be a coincidence."

Oman bristled. "Everything is connected in the weave, Siuan. There are no coincidences."

A tense silence followed, broken only by the rhythmic tick of a grandfather clock in the corner. The weight of the situation settled on Oman's shoulders. This wasn't just about her intuition anymore – it was about the safety of the world.

"We need more information," Moiraine said finally, breaking the silence. "We need to know what we're up against."

"Perhaps the answer lies not in the flows," Siuan said, her eyes gleaming with an unexpected fire. "Perhaps the answer lies in the histories."

Oman's heart quickened. "The histories? What are you suggesting?"

Siuan gave a sly smile. "There are rumors, whispers of a lost city, a place called Shadar Logoth. It's said to hold secrets from the Age of Legends, secrets that could explain what you're feeling."

A thrill shot through Oman. A lost city, ancient secrets – the very idea whispered of adventure and the potential to hone her wild magic. But a flicker of doubt lingered. Was venturing into the unknown the wisest course, or was it a reckless gamble?

Moiraine seemed to read Oman's mind. "It's a dangerous mission, Oman," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "But it may be the only way to understand the darkness you sense."

Oman met Moiraine's gaze, a spark of determination igniting in her own eyes. "Then let's go find those secrets," she declared. "Because if there's a way to stop this darkness, I want to be a part of it."

A flicker of a smile crossed Moiraine's lips, a flicker that sent a warmth radiating through Oman. Perhaps, amidst the danger and uncertainty, there was a chance for something more. The wheel was weaving, and Oman, for better or worse, was determined to see where the threads led.

The following days were a whirlwind of preparations. Siuan delved into ancient texts, her brow furrowed in concentration as she deciphered cryptic passages referring to Shadar Logoth. Lan, ever the stoic warrior, sharpened his blades and meticulously inspected his weapons.

Oman, however, found solace in the training rooms. Moiraine, her expression uncharacteristically tense, instructed her in channeling techniques, attempting to bridge the gap between the structured weaves of the Aes Sedai and Oman's raw power. Progress was slow. Oman's channeling was as wild as a raging storm, resistant to containment.

Frustration simmered in Oman, but Moiraine's gentle patience slowly wore her down. With each session, a flicker of understanding passed between them, a deeper connection forming beneath the surface. But the yearning for something more, something beyond the realm of training, remained a constant thrumming in Oman's heart.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training room, Oman found herself alone with Moiraine. The air crackled with unspoken words.

"Oman," Moiraine began, her voice low, "this will be a dangerous journey. You are powerful, but Shadar Logoth holds secrets both ancient and treacherous."

Oman met her gaze, feeling a mixture of apprehension and defiance. "I know the risks, Moiraine. But I also know that the weave needs mending. And I can't sit idly by while the world teeters on the brink."

Moiraine paused, her eyes searching Oman's face. A hint of vulnerability flickered across her normally composed expression. "I understand," she said finally. "But promise me you'll be careful."

Oman's heart leapt into her throat. This wasn't just a plea for caution; it was a plea born out of concern, perhaps even care.

"I promise," Oman managed, her voice husky. The words hung in the air, charged with a meaning that transcended the mission at hand.

Moiraine's gaze lingered on Oman for a beat too long before she stepped back, professionalism reasserting itself. "Good," she said, her voice regaining its usual composure. "We leave at dawn."

Oman nodded, the promise hanging heavy between them. As she left the training room, a familiar flicker of jealousy pricked at her. Siuan stood outside, a map clutched in her hand, her emerald eyes sparkling with excitement.

Oman couldn't help but compare – Siuan, the Aes Sedai with whom Moiraine shared a history, and her, the outsider with wild magic and a heart overflowing with a love that dared not speak its name. Yet, despite the jealousy, a fierce determination filled Oman. This journey wasn't just about the weave or the darkness it held – it was about proving her worth, about showing Moiraine that her raw power, and the love that came with it, could be an asset, not a liability.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of gold and orange, a small caravan set out from Tar Valon. Lan rode at the head, his stoic face a mask of vigilance. Behind him, Moiraine and Siuan sat in a horse-drawn carriage, their heads bent over a map. Oman, mounted on a powerful black stallion, rode at the back, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The journey to Shadar Logoth had begun, and with it, a quest unlike any other – a quest to mend the weave, confront an ancient darkness, and perhaps, to unravel the tangled threads of love and loyalty that bound her to the enigmatic Moiraine Sedai.

A/N: Hi, y'all. It's me again. Honestly i'm quite shocked people are reading this shit. Anyway, Enjoy. Love y'all. XOXO