The Wheel of Kin: A Daughter's Journey

Life is a dream from which we all must wake

Later that night, Elara sat cross-legged, her voice low as she finished telling Moiraine and Lan everything she had seen in Tanchico.

"The sa'angreal, the Balefire rod, the collars—Moghedien said nothing, but I could feel her... watching. Calculating. Like she wanted me to figure something out."

Lan folded his arms, brow tight with concern. Moiraine sat still, pale in the flickering light, but her fingers clenched around her cup.

Then Elara stilled.

She straightened slightly, every hair on her arms rising.

"...Someone's here," she said, her voice sharp, urgent. "Something bad-"

A moment later, the ground trembled—then shook violently as an explosion echoed through the canyon like a thunderclap.

Moiraine was on her feet instantly. Lan had his sword drawn before the shaking stopped. Elara was already running.

Elara reached Rand's quarters in the shattered remains of a stone building. Dust choked the air. Chunks of rubble lay scattered, and smoke coiled into the sky.

Rand was already there, frantically moving slabs of rock with threads of Power shimmering around his hands—desperate, eyes wild.

And then Elara saw her.

Alsera.

The little girl lay limp in Rand's arms, her body dust-covered, her hair matted with blood. She had been sleeping on the second floor when the building fell.

Rand cradled her close, sobbing.

"Alsera... Hey, Alsera." His voice broke. He gently shook her. "Alsera? Please—wake up—sobs Alsera..."

Aviendha stood a few paces away, her expression carved in pain. "Life is a dream," she said softly, "from which we all must wake."

Rand shook his head. "No. No."

Elara came to his side. The moment her eyes fell on Alsera, her knees buckled. Rand had already begun to channel—threads of Spirit, of desperate Life, wrapping around the child's body. He was trembling.

"Breathe," Rand whispered, his face soaked with tears. "Breathe!"

Egwene appeared beside them, heartbroken. "Rand... you can't. She's—she's gone. Death can't be healed."

"I can do anything!" Rand shouted, clutching Alsera tighter. "What does the prophecy say, huh? What does it say?!"

His voice cracked into laughter—broken and terrifying.

"I bring destruction... but also creation!"

Elara looked down at Alsera's still face.

And then she felt it—her True Power swelling inside her, rising with her grief, her guilt, her need.

She stepped forward and placed her hand gently over Rand's.

"I can help," she whispered. "We can try."

She opened herself—fully—to the source that had always felt wrong and right at once. The True Power surged through her veins like molten light. Her eyes glowed bright as fireflies.

Rand looked at her.

Together, they channeled—weaving light and shadow, Spirit and flame. The air around them shimmered violently. The ground beneath them cracked. Alsera's hair lifted from her face as the Power swirled around her in brilliant streams of gold and white and smoke.

"Breathe now, Alsera," Rand begged. "Breathe!"

Elara whispered through clenched teeth, "Please... breathe."

Behind them, Moiraine and Lan arrived—stunned, breathless.

Then Moiraine saw him.

Sammael. Unconscious beneath a pile of stone nearby.

Her breath caught.

"Elara... Rand..." she called, carefully, stepping forward.

Elara turned slightly, her glowing eyes locking with Moiraine's. Her hands trembled, but the Power pouring through her didn't stop.

"Elara," Moiraine said again, gently.

But Elara turned back, pushing more of herself into the weave.

Moiraine turned to Rand. "Rand, you cannot do this."

He didn't move.

"Rand," she said again, firmer.

Rand finally looked at her, eyes hollow. He knew. Deep down, he already knew.

And he let go.

The Power unraveled in his hands like smoke on the wind.

But Elara—Elara kept going.

"No, Rand—we can do this! We can bring her back, no one has to die, we can—"

Her words broke apart in sobs. Her hands were shaking violently now.

Rand turned to her and whispered softly. "Theyre right, some things aren't meant to be undone."

It was enough.

The weave in Elara's hands shattered.

Then—she ran.

❃

Elara sprinted through the camp, out beyond the fires, past the tents, out into the open Waste. Her heart was ripping in half, the Power churning inside her with nowhere to go.

Lan followed at a distance—silent, steady.

She stopped on a rocky ridge and let out the scream she couldn't voice.

A beam of searing light shot from her hands and mouth, bright enough to cast shadows across the canyon. Her body arched with the effort. There was no sound, only the trembling silence of pure energy leaving her like a dam breaking.

Then—she collapsed.

Lan rushed forward and caught her before she hit the ground.

He cradled her in his arms like she weighed nothing at all, pressing his cheek to her head. Her breathing was shallow but steady.

He carried her back through the quiet camp, passing no one.

Later That Night

The room was dark. Only a single candle burned beside the bed.

Elara lay beneath a light blanket, her face still and pale, her braid undone and damp with sweat.

Lan sat beside her on the floor, eyes never leaving her face.

When Moiraine entered, her steps were slow. Quiet.

"How is she?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Lan didn't look away. "I've never seen anything like it."

He swallowed. "She ran into the desert and let it out... all of it. Light and fire. It looked like her soul was burning."

Moiraine stepped closer. She sat beside Elara and brushed the hair from her forehead gently.

"I don't know what she was thinking," she whispered. "She believed she could bring Alsera back."

Lan's eyes tightened. "She's not ready, Moiraine."

Moiraine looked at him—truly looked.

"If that had been you who died tonight..." Lan said, voice barely audible, "Elara would have done more than her limit. If it meant bringing you back."

Moiraine had no reply.

The silence between them settled.

Moiraine smoothed the blanket over Elara's chest and bent low, resting her forehead briefly against her daughter's.

"I don't know how to protect her from this."

Lan said softly, "Maybe you can't."

They sat there together as the candle burned low—watching the girl who held too much Power, too much love, and too much of the world's grief in her heart.