The Wheel of Kin: A Daughter's Journey

A Mother's Guidance

Moiraine Damodred and Siuan Sanche, sisters of the Blue Ajah, had wandered far beyond the White Tower's reach. It was meant to be a quiet journey—just the two of them. A chance to follow whispers of ancient ruins near the Spine of the World, but more than that... a rare moment to be together, away from the gaze of the Hall and the weight of their secrets.

But the Wheel had other plans.

The sky was heavy with smoke and smog, pressing down like a held breath. The sun was only a pale smear behind the clouds. No birds called. No insects buzzed. Even the wind dared not speak.

Then—sharply, suddenly—a cry.

A baby's cry.

Moiraine halted her horse so fast the animal stamped and tossed its head. "Did you hear that?" she asked, already dismounting.

Siuan was beside her in an instant, boots crunching over dry earth. "That wasn't wind."

They followed the sound over a low ridge, and then froze.

In the middle of a scorched depression lay a baby girl—barely more than a newborn—crying so fiercely it pierced the stillness. Her fists clenched and waved, streaked with soot. Her skin was ash-smudged, her face red from the effort of survival.

And she was alone.

No cradle. No camp. No body.

Just the girl... and symbols.

A circle of stone fragments surrounded her, half-buried, blackened with age. Some bore ancient renderings. Others—older still—were indecipherable, etched with runes that hadn't been spoken aloud in a few thousand years.

Siuan's breath caught as she dropped to her knees beside the child. "Light," she whispered, voice breaking as she reached out with shaking hands. "She's so little..."

Moiraine stood frozen, staring—not just at the child, but at the place. At the stillness. The weight of it. This was not a child abandoned.

This was a child placed.

And the Pattern had led them here.

The baby's cries stuttered when Siuan lifted her gently from the dirt. Her arms were unsteady at first, then sure, as the child curled instinctively against her chest.

"She's burning up," Siuan murmured, rocking her gently. Her fingers smoothed tangled hair from the girl's brow. "But she's strong. Light, listen to those little lungs."

Moiraine stepped closer and reached out. Siuan passed the child into her arms, but not without one last lingering touch—her fingers trailing the baby's tiny hand like she already missed her.

The moment Moiraine held the girl, something shifted.

The baby's cries stopped entirely. She blinked up with storm-gray eyes, dazed but calm, and then—miraculously—smiled.

Moiraine's breath caught in her throat.

Siuan was watching too, tears she didn't quite understand gathering in her eyes. "Its as if he recognizes you," she whispered.

"No," Moiraine murmured. "She recognizes us."

They both felt it—the bond. Unseen but unmistakable. Not just affection. Not just curiosity.

Love.

Immediate. Fierce. Terrifying.

"She's not meant for the Tower," Moiraine said. "They'd poke at her, study her. Tear her apart trying to explain her."