The Wheel of Kin: A Daughter's Journey

Deal with the Devi..Forsaken

Night draped the inn in silence, the occasional murmur of voices and distant clatter of hooves on cobblestones the only sounds. The scent of fresh flowers lingered on Elara's fingertips as she gently placed them at Elayne's door—her favorites. A silent offering. A whisper of what she could not yet say aloud.

She hesitated for a moment, brushing her fingers over the delicate petals, then turned on her heel and walked away, her chest tight with unspoken words.

Her steps were measured as she made her way to Moiraine's room, but her heart pounded beneath the weight of everything left unsaid.

She knocked softly. A brief pause, then the door cracked open, revealing Lan's sharp gaze. He studied her for a moment before stepping aside, allowing her entry.

Inside, the air was warm, scented with herbal tea. Moiraine sat at a small wooden table by the window, her usual mask of composure firmly in place—until she saw Elara.

Then, her features softened.

"Elara," she said, her voice carrying the kind of relief she rarely let slip.

Lan nodded in greeting before turning back to the window, his presence still but ever watchful.

Elara swallowed past the lump in her throat and moved to sit beside her mother. "I'm sorry," she murmured, voice quiet but firm. "About earlier. I know it's hard for you to make the choices you do, and I shouldn't make them harder for you. I'll do as you ask and stay at the tower, while you go to Tear."

Moiraine regarded her for a long moment before reaching out, taking Elara's hands in hers. Her grip was warm, steady.

"You don't make things harder for me," she said softly. "If anything, you make doing what I must... easier."

Elara looked down at their joined hands, her fingers tightening around her mother's instinctively. "I find that hard to believe."

She wanted to believe that, wanted to take comfort in the words. But there was a part of her—a child's part—that ached at how much Moiraine had to carry alone.

Moiraine squeezed her hands, her expression unreadable. "You may not see it, but you give me reason to endure what must be done."

Elara swallowed, suddenly finding it difficult to hold her mother's gaze.

A long silence stretched between them before Moiraine spoke again, her voice almost hesitant. "Elara, I have a favor to ask of you."

Elara lifted her gaze, searching her mother's face. "Yes?"

Moiraine studied her, then slipped off her serpent ring. With deliberate care, she took Elara's hand and slid the ring onto her finger.

"Keep this safe for me."

Elara inhaled sharply, her fingers curling instinctively around the metal. The weight of it felt heavier than it should.

"But Mother, I—"

"You must." Moiraine's voice was firm, but beneath it was something else. A quiet plea.

Elara swallowed hard and nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I will."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Moiraine's face, and she reached for the teapot, pouring a cup for Elara before pushing it toward her.

"I will be coming back for it," she said, her voice lighter now, almost teasing. "So I hope you'll take good care of it."

Elara huffed a small laugh, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Of course. As long as you do come back."

They sat together for a while, their conversation meandering through unimportant things—memories of Cairhien, idle talk of Tear, the way the stars looked different in every part of the world.