The best kept secret

Chapter 9: Rand

She's a mirage , Rand thought in disbelief, his eyes softening with affection nonetheless, then I must be dying already . But what a precious sight she was; death really could not greet him with kinder hands than to have her be his last vision. Despite his vision being blurred, he could still make out her figure, dressed in a lavender-coloured gown, pale and soft against the glow of her skin; he could make out the warmth of her hair, the ever-present brightness and kindness in her eyes. She was so lovely, as lovely a sight as there could be. Ilyena, Gwen, he loved them both the same.

"Gwen," Rand breathed her name, his lips curling into a peaceful smile, his voice laced with a tender sweetness. The pain pouring from the venomous dagger embedded in his side spread through his entire body, feeling as if it were scorching his muscles, bones and skin away. His vision was foggy, but he could still discern Guinevere rushing towards him, painfully kneeling above the debris by his side, her arms instinctively reaching for his blood-tainted stomach. The warmness of her skin against his overcame any pain he might have been feeling, and suddenly his mind became clear once again. She's real... she's real and she's here, he realised, his heart sinking into his stomach. That cannot be. She shouldn't be here. Ishamael is here, she will get hurt — "W-what are you doing here?" Rand heard himself stutter, voice shaken with apprehension, "How did you get here? I thought Lanfear..."

The girl promptly shushed him, as she delicately traced his injury with her fingers, as she closed her eyes, imperceptibly reaching for the Source. Rand stared in awe at his torn skin starting to heal itself back together, stopping the bleeding and the poison from spreading any further. In only mere seconds there was nothing left but a darkened, muddy mark over his skin where the knife had been once buried. He lifted his gaze to Guinevere, his eyes filled with devotion, before Egwene's screams of pain brought him crashing back to the harsh reality of their situation. All of his dearest friends were there, endangered because of Ishamael, because of him, it was his fault they had been caught up in such a mess. You will carry the weight of their deaths.

"Rand, Rand!" Mat urged him, softly shaking his shoulders. It took Rand a moment to realise he was lying on his friend's arms. "You're gonna have to do something."

The readheaded boy lethargically raised his hand, trying to reach for the Source, but found nothing but a void in its place. He felt harrowingly empty.

"I- I can't," he blubbered, drowsily starting to remember the events that had taken place prior to Mat throwing that dagger at his stomach, "I'm shielded."

Rand heard someone nervously sigh by his side, and saw Guinevere close her eyes in desperation, clutching the blue stone hanging over her chest as if in prayer. And then suddenly, he sensed the weaves that restricted him starting to grow weaker, and the shield over him fell apart, he could feel the Source once again, almost begging for his touch. Or is it the other way around? He heard Guinevere exhale a shaky 'thank you', before letting a lonely tear fall through her cheek.

He stumbled out of Mat's hold, screeching resounding in his ears, as Perrin and Gwen helped him up, and he walked towards Egwene, whose breath and stability were growing weaker by the second due to her efforts to protect them from Ishamael's attacks. Gwen attempted to follow him, but he gently pushed her into Perrin's arms, away from any possible danger. He could practically feel the girl's fury showing on her face, but didn't look back.

Rand reached Egwene's side, as her shield that had protected them faltered away, and picked his sword from the ground right next to her, the heron mark on its hilt dangerously shimmering under the sun. He walked with steady, fast steps towards Ishamael, reaching for the Source, letting it engulf him whole; and a grunt left his lips as he embedded the sword right into the man's chest. Rand knew he was doing the correct thing, for he was both protecting his friends and the world by killing him, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of something he couldn't describe in any other way but grief, as he kept pushing the tip further into the Ishamael's heart. The blade's iron melted itself into the One Power, digging a fiery hole into the Forsaken's chest, and then with a thud the sword's hilt crashed futile into the ground. Rand felt a scorching sensation sear through his hand, and his eyes widened in astonishment as he looked down to find a heron shaped mark burned into his skin. He tried to make sense of it for a moment, but got distracted. With a painful groan, Ishamael quietly dropped to his knees, his whole body following afterwards, raising a cloud of dust around him.