The Wheel of Kin: A Daughter's Journey

We leave at dawn

The midday sky hung heavy with thick, gray clouds, the sun barely managing to pierce through in thin, golden slivers. It cast an eerie half-light over the city, as if Tar Valon itself was holding its breath.

Downstairs in the common room, the group sat in uneasy silence. A fire crackled low in the hearth, though the warmth did little to chase away the tension.

Egwene, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, finally broke the silence. "We should've been in that Hall with you. Me and Elayne." Her voice was sharp with frustration. "So what if we don't have the ring? These ridiculous Tower rules... We could've kept you safe."

Elara leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees, her eyes troubled. "The Tower is meant to be the safest place there is." The words felt hollow as she said them.

Rand let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Safe's not possible anymore." His voice was quiet but firm. "We were already running from the Forsaken. And now the Black Ajah. Who knows how many of them are out there?"

Nynaeve, standing near the window with her hands on her hips, turned to face them. "So, what now?"

Rand hesitated for a beat before answering. "Moiraine wants me to go to Tear."

Perrin furrowed his brow. "Why Tear?"

Elara glanced at Rand, then answered, her voice steady. "One of the most powerful sa'angreal is there. In a fortress called the Stone of Tear. It's a sword, Callandor."

Mat, who had been idly flipping a coin between his fingers, suddenly muttered in the Old Tongue, "The sword that is not a sword." He blinked, shaking his head slightly, and added in a more familiar tone, "Uh, carry on."

Nynaeve frowned. "That sword can... what? Kill Forsaken? Defeat the Dark One?"

Rand rubbed a hand over his face. "You know what prophecies are like. Nothing's clear."

Perrin shifted in his seat. "Why can't we just go somewhere no one's heard of the Dragon?"

Egwene gave him a pointed look. "Where? People are already talking about what happened in Falme here in Tar Valon. And that's halfway across the world." She hesitated, her voice softening. "Wherever we go, we do it together."

Nynaeve let out a breath, her expression unreadable, before giving a slow nod. "Together."

At that moment, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Elayne descended gracefully, her gold-red hair catching the faint sunlight filtering through the window. She looked directly at the group and said, "Moiraine wants us."

Elara exchanged a glance with Egwene, then nodded, standing with the others. As they all made their way upstairs, Elara subtly adjusted her pace so she could walk beside Elayne.

Elayne glanced at her, her expression unreadable, but said nothing.

The air was thick with anticipation as they settled in the upstairs room. Elara moved instinctively toward Elayne, but Moiraine's sharp glance made her stop short.

It was subtle—just the slightest narrowing of her eyes, a barely perceptible shift in her posture—but the message was clear.

Not now.

Elara hesitated before settling beside Lan instead, glancing at Elayne, who didn't seem to notice the silent exchange.

Moiraine surveyed the room, her voice cool and measured when she finally spoke. "The city is not safe. Obviously."

She let the words settle before continuing. "I would ask you all to stay here. But I know you'll do as you wish. So, please remember this—the person shining your shoes will give your description to the Southharbor fishmonger. Who, in turn, will speak quietly to the innkeeper at the Upriver Run, who is a woman that reports every suspicious newcomer directly to the Red Ajah."