Amidst the softly whispering leaves of the great Green apple tree, galaxies of light pink and silky white blossoms waved - *s*p*a*r*k*l*e*d* - almost, silver in the moonlight, shifting and spreading their scent across the orchard in the gentle Summer breeze. <><><> The orchard was bathed in silvery light, a big moon hanging low and luminous in the clear night sky. As Calia stepped back from the trunk and bruised bark, she felt Aaran's calloused palm slip into place against her smooth one, his fingers curling protectively around her own. Then he lifted his arm dramatically upwards, her hand still caught in his. She laughed, letting her arm and her body follow his on cue. He guided her out and into a familiar twirl. The jingle of bells in his long, dark hair singing sweetly into the crisp night air, the set of tiny Jakandan silver beads he'd given her as a wedding gift clicked almost inaudibly, just as he had intended for her own hair, making her smile with fond recollection. The turn brought them face to face, but he kept her at a distance, stepping back half a pace. As she raised an eyebrow at the change in routine, he inclined his head in a sincere bow and then revealed a small garland of apple blossoms in his free hand. Gently, he slipped the wreath onto her head and let his hand trail down her spine to the small of her back. Then he drew her sharply close. Warmth spread through her entire body. She smiled up at him, her gaze bypassing the chiseled planes of his face to catch his warm, dark eyes. His own gaze was intense as she had expected it to be, for all the corners of his eyes crinkled into those familiar merry folds as he grinned down at her. How? part of her mind wondered - - And then she was spinning again, and the bells were clanging alarms as blistering heat roared over her skin. The orchard was transformed. All around her, flames snarled at the trees. Explosions of super-heated sap snapped and cracked the silence of the night with a terrifying concert of whips. Red and green apples turned to coal and dropped from their branches, lying as charred and jagged shadows on the melting ground. Instead of sparkling in the trees, the apple blossoms spun from the boughs as molten embers. Aaran was gone. The wreath of blossoms crumbled into ash in her hair. In the distance, a horse's shrill whinny sounded. Lost. Then louder and louder. Closer and closer. Calia tried to channel, but saidar skipped out of her reach, again and again. When she did finally grasp it, the threads melted and slipped from her hands - or burned her - again and again. Suddenly a sound of thundering hooves joined the horse's scream, and a distinct blaze of white socks flashed through the inferno as Socksie raced the spreading flames in a circle around Calia. Her hooves struck sparks from the scorched earth, her mane and tail whipped around her like silvered fire. As Cal watched, Socksie's form shifted - her coat melted into a dappled grey, her socks and patches disappearing, darkening, until her whole coat was midnight black and she was no longer Socksie, but Stormbreaker, Elessar's horse, galloping through the chaos with steadfast determination before the image split, and both horses charged side-by-side, their appearances shifting and shimmering, flickering in time with the flames - pale roans, dark bays, palominos... Suddenly, the flames consumed the scene, roaring higher and hotter until the orchard was gone. Too late, Calia turned to run after the horses, her bare feet pounding against the cracked and crackling earth, but her steps faltered and the world shifted as she fell to the hot, dry sand of the Aiel Waste. Here it was only the horizon shimmering with heat. In front of her was an enormous stone, that shifted form back and forth between solid rock and a blacksmith's anvil. As she watched, a circle formed in the sand around her, closing her in. Water began to drip from the sky, not as rain, just as a steady drip - and she knew her punishment now was to stop even a single drop from going to waste... Calia cupped her hands, catching drop after drop of water from the sky and trying to ignore the way it and her emotions were steadily rising, welling right up to the edges of where they would not be held. The sound of dripping water intensified, rising into a drum of galloping hooves that filled her ears. She turned toward the sound as it shifted into a clanging of bells. <> <> <> <> <> And then she sat upright, wide awake, heart pounding in her chest. She sat for just long enough to catch her breath, and then she pushed the blankets aside. Her room was still, save for the faint rustle of wind against the shutters. She crossed to the small washbasin, splashing cold water onto her face to chase away the bitterness she felt. She straightened, searching beyond her own gaze in the tarnished mirror. He wasn't there. And never would be again. She sighed. And spent the rest of the night, once again, trying to regain her ability to sleep. <> <> “The horses are gone!” Elessar said with consternation. His dark eyes tightened with concern and anger. “Someone has taken Stormbreaker and Socksie!” Gone. Calia exhaled slowly, masking her growing frustration behind a calm façade. Of course, they would target their mounts. Stormbreaker, with his steady endurance, and her big, sock-wearing cart-horse who could outpace most, were treasures too tempting for any thief, illusion-spun or no. To lose time chasing after them now felt like a slap to the face. Light be thanked that she had prepared for this. She closed her eyes and focused on links to the tiny metal beads she had clipped into Stormbreaker and Socksie's manes. The Finder weave she had attached to those sentimental beads was not the same as the tracking thread she had used on the would-be assassin in Lugard. No, the Finder weave was more akin to the warder bond, albeit one-way and much, much weaker. With a sigh of relief she opened her eyes and filled Elessar in on the details. "At least they haven't got far," she said, "And they wouldn't have gone anywhere without a fight!" "Let's go!" <> <> The sense of the weaves dissolved, and Calia froze in the middle of the market square and gave Elessar a meaningful look as worry and disappointment crept into her heart for more reasons than one. She pushed aside the pang for the Jakandan silver beads that might now be lost to her forever. She'd given one to each horse out of fondness as much as necessity. And the beads themselves would be as impossible to replace as the horses. She turned to her warder. "The weaves went dark. Either both horses randomly lost their beads, or whoever took them severed, or at the very least were informed about things they should not be able to see. I feel like we were close, though, and I might be able to keep us heading in the right direction." her eyes scanned ahead in the direction they had been travelling. Until her gaze landed on a dark, glistening deposit several paces ahead of them. And then another patch of something similar quite aways ahead of that. Her brow furrowed softly as realisation struck. A trail of dung! Scattered and irregular, but unmistakable. She grinned. It was almost laughable. Almost. Elessar caught her eye. Her lips twitched upwards. "Clever mounts!" <> <> <> Through the market, then this street and alley and that, through the door and out the other side, the dark deposits led the Sedai and Warder on a merry chase. Despite the absurdity of the method, it worked. They were surely closing in by now - the dung drops were looking 'fresher' with every pile. . Abruptly, they rounded a corner into a narrow rather abandoned alley, only to be were met with a very unexpected sight. Socksie - still disguised as a very large-'dapple grey' carthorse, and Stormbreaker the palamino, still taller and larger than Socksie, with the situation very much under control. This time, Calia did laugh. Because it wasn’t the reunion she had feared - or even remotely imagined... And there, pinned against the crumbling stone wall of a storage house that appeared to form the back end of the alley were two men, wide-eyed and pale - and most thoroughly trapped by the horses themselves! One had the misfortune of being pinned, quite firmly by her mare’s hindquarters, his tunic bunched up around his ribs where the horse’s weight pressed him firmly in place. The other had his collar... and perhaps some of his shoulder... caught in Stormbreaker’s teeth, the stallion holding him steady with an air of what Calia could only interpret as steadfast satisfaction. “Well,” she said to Elessar searching the bond for any hint of his reaction even as she outwardly observed the scene, her voice rich with quiet amusement. “We found them! And seems whatever else the two in custody know or don't know, they failed to consider that their prizes might come with their own sense of justice and both the strength and to carry it out!” <> <> <>

- Questions of Balance - The marketplace near the River Manetherendrelle buzzed with sharp scents and sharper voices. Weaving her way through the press of busy bodies, a dark-haired woman with wide brown eyes set in a tanned face that hinted at thirty-something years quickened her pace towards the fishmonger's stall. She scanned ahead, stepping neatly around jostling adults and children alike with practiced precision. As she moved, she wrapped her dark blue-green shawl tighter around her shoulders - as if it alone was a sufficient barrier to keep the chaos of the market and the biting Easterly wind at bay. A rhythmic creak of boats rocking against the docks knocked out a steady beat to the chattering and calling of the crowd as the woman quietly took a place at the back of the queue for the fishmonger's stall. The queue moved quickly, dispersing much faster than she had thought it would have, with many of the patrons ahead of her turning away empty handed, mumbling curses into the wind. "... and bloody ashes..." "... cursed, I tell you!" "... again!..." The woman tilted her head slightly to the side and raised a dark enquiring eyebrow at the man wrapping the last bundle of salted fish in parchment for a waiting customer. His eyes, a little more careworn, but still as bright green as she remembered, flicked briefly her way. He began to shake his head with a tip toward the now-empty table as if to point out that there was no point in waiting - but then his eyes widened in recognition. He handed the wrapped fish to the customer, and waved the dark-haired woman forward. "Mistress Mara," he greeted her gruffly, giving a small smile as he wiped his hands clean on a cloth he'd had tucked into the side of his apron. "Been quite a while since you came around, thought the trade routes away from here must've swallowed you whole - What can I do for you today?" The woman chuckled the way 'Mistress Mara' always had, with the slightly raspy voice and lilting Murandian accent that so perfectly matched her appearance. "You know better than that, Master Basrin. I travel at the whims of the trade, yes - but I could never stay away from here and your good stall for good!" She paused meaningfully. "I was hoping for some of your Ma's delicious salted fish, since I'm finally passing through, but..." she surveyed the bare table with pointed disappointment. "... it seems I am too late and might have to wait 'til our paths cross again?" "Right you are there, and maybe then some!" The man muttered, tension creasing the space between his brows, a slight scowl forming on his lips. "Come, Basrin - you know how long it's been and I've been looking forward to this fish the entire time - I need more of an excuse or explanation than that!" The banter had the familiar ring of their long acquaintance, but the woman who was not really Mara could sense the fishmonger's heart was not in it as it might once have been. "Strange season, this," he told her in all seriousness as he began stacking the few baskets on the table into a pile. "Some swear on the Light that the River's turned cursed: each catch smaller n' the last; good nets tearing or crumbling for no reason, even without loads of fish; boats turning upside-down in calm waters. Catches that seem at first to be good shifting into piles of ash... Folk walking off planks in the dead of night..." He looked back at her then, and 'Mara' drew a sharp breath, her lips parting as though the wind had stolen her words. She clasped her shawl even tighter about her shoulders and shook her head - the perfect picture of a merchant woman horrified by such dark tidings. Basrin, she knew, was a friendly soul who liked to chat and was prone to share gossip as generously as he salted his fish, but he liked a dramatic reaction to his stories, and physical disguises only got one so far - the rest was down to the wearer's ability to act. "No! That's awful!" she rasped softly in Mara's voice. "Though it's not the first of such stories I've heard," she added mournfully, thinking to herself just how true that was, despite the altered persona she wore. The Seals that hold back shall weaken... Not a word of a lie... Both the prophecies and herself always spoke the truth. Basrin nodded, the strained expression still creasing his face. "And everyone says it's worse the further South you go..." With a tight, wry smile he spread his hands and added, "... so the wife forbids me to go even slightly South these days, and by way of it, the salted fish are few..." "I'm both glad and sorry to hear that, Master Basrin. But if those stories are true, it sounds like you'd do well to keep listening to your wife, Light protect you both! Still... save me a small packet of fish over the next day or two, if they come your way?" The fishmonger nodded his agreement as he continued to pack up the afternoon's stall. The woman Mara gave thanks and offered a lingering smile before turning back toward the road. Her steps quickened with purpose, the air of confident merchant-woman clinging to her appearance. Though she was no merchant, her confidence was real. How could it not be, as she followed the sense of her steadfast Warder through the bond? She gave his unfamiliar face and their large, apparently palamino and dappled-grey mounts a small, strained smile as she approached. A strange season, indeed... ● Some time later, Calia squinted through the glare of the afternoon sun, sharing a meaningful glance at - and with - her Warder. The wind from the East blustered at their backs, swirling as vehemently as Calia thoughts, carrying dust from the road around Socksie's and Stormbreaker's hooves and tugging at every thread of cloth and every strand of hair on human or horse that was not tightly braided or pinned in place. The market's hum had long since faded behind them, the vibrant chatter giving way to the rhythmic clop of hooves on packed earth. Ahead, a collection of tall, grey stone buildings loomed at the intersection of the ancient river and the Lugard Road. It had been some time since she had last passed this way, and through Remen. Still, the village appeared much like she had expected it would, and much like the others they had come across on this journey - filled with dust and dirt and weary travellers who, no doubt, would have a few more stories to tell of yet more strange happenings that had taken place here and there over the river and across the land. Not that we'll share our own stories, Calia thought, but there's no doubt now that the Shadow's reach is growing. She stifled a sigh. Outwardly calm, her body still bore the truth of the grueling weeks they'd left in their wake. Her thighs ached from endless hours in Socksie's wide saddle, her mind throbbed with unanswered questions and the weight of shadowy prophesies, stories and theories that she was yet to be confident they could safely traverse, let alone solve. Breaks in travel since leaving the shifty city of Lugard had been infrequent, the pair and their mounts trekking as fast as possible through the woods of the Cumbar Hills and spending several rainy nights in makeshift camps to avoid excessive use of roads and inns. Other than providing Elessar and herself with small pockets of dry to sleep in, crafting changes to the Illusions woven over herself, Elessar and the horses and embedding a number of weaves into everyday items amongst their luggage, Calia had limited channeling to the barest minimum - embracing Saidar only in moments and amounts she was confident would not be detected - making sure to lock every thread of every weave she tied off into an inversion so complete and so tight that it absolutely would not be seen, nor sensed by other channelers. Each day had worn the pair and their mounts down a little more — too few moments of rest had been available on their trek from the shadows in Lugard, and those that still haunted her mind from Four Kings. It was time to rest. And The Staunch Ox in Remen would have to do. Calia glanced again at her Warder as they approached the inn together, dismounting almost as one. She smiled at him as her boots crunched on the gravel path and her legs protested the sudden change in position. Despite the weight of their mission, the buzz of Elessar's half of the quite determination in the bond between them remained as steadfast as ever. And despite his own weariness and the disguise she had spun about him, the gaze of the gaidin at her side was still undeniably sharp. It seemed some things were more difficult to hide than others, no matter how tightly one could weave Illusions... "Thank you," she said, simply, as he led the palamino Stormbreaker her way and took Socksie's reins, preparing to walk the pair to the stables around the back. Calia's voice and accent were no longer her own, but neither Socksie nor Elessar reacted in the slightest. So 'common' had the inverted weaves she'd been placing around hers and Elessar's mouths become. She patted the mare's - presently dappled-grey - neck as the trio passed, chuckling softly at the nuzzling she received on the shoulder in response. A short time later, with their new, 'young Murandian brother-sister merchant' disguises still in tact, the Sedai and Warder entered the inn and arranged for their rooms. Elessar went first, carrying their saddlebags as steadily as always. Calia didn't have to see the innkeeper in that first instant to know that he must look like he'd missed more than a few good meals, or that his apron would be badly stained - the most subtle of shifts in Elessar's posture and buzz in the bond gave it all away. When she did finally spy the man, she found he was indeed thin, his ill-fitting apron looking like it would slip at any moment. He had the sour air of someone who spent far too much time indoors, perhaps with his nose in other people's business. She paid him no mind as he passed them to show them to their rooms - Elessar would have the measure of him as soon as she could have, and really, as long as he let them to be, and the establishment had a decent bath available, she would be content. Still, she raised one eyebrow slightly at Elessar as he turned to follow the innkeeper up the stairs. The look he gave her in return only encouraged the spark of amusement she felt even further. "Do try not to scowl so much, brother," she whispered in the lilting Murandian accent which was her newest norm, her now dark brown eyes uncharacteristically wide and innocent-looking. "You'll terrify the locals." Outwardly, the man with the curled mustache and small beard on the tip of his chin gave only a soft huff in reply as he passed her. The bond however, betrayed at least a flicker of humour between them, and Calia smiled. ● There was a bath. It was not overly large. Nor was it fancy. But it was large enough for one, and now, after the simple band of metal at her wrist had been submerged long enough to release the inverted heating weave she'd pre-prepared, it was bliss. Calia slipped her entire body under the surface of the water, closing her eyes and and letting the warmth envelop her completely for as long as she could hold her breath. Rising slowly, she set about soaping herself down from head to toe, washing the dust from her hair and skin, savouring the softness of the fresh lather and the scent of the jasmine-and-apple soap she'd received from Amelie in Four Kings. For a while, she worked consciously on emptying her mind of the pressure of their mission and releasing the related tension she had stored in her body, letting the weight of it all float away in the water, allowing herself to simply relax in the soothing warmth. If there was one thing she was grateful to have learned in all her years of becoming and being Aes Sedai, it was this - the mastery of mind that only a century of practiced meditation could, almost reliably, bring. The half-expected trouble in the shadowy streets of Lugard. The shock of that woman being somehow attached. The twist of reality into a no-longer unimaginable, no-longer undeniable threat. The increased urgency of their mission in response. The frustration that the Tower should have thought of this, should have arranged more for this before now. Who could be trusted now? Who would act? How? She slipped down deeper into the water and let the warmth ease away some of the ache from the long hours spent in the saddle. The strain of covering tracks, laying false paths, making all the subtle adjustments and movements they needed to make to keep their path clear of darkness for as long as they could. The darkness they had left behind. The unravelling of threads ahead, the lines of prophecy that had been circling in her mind since they had left Four Kings... 'There is no salvation without destruction, no hope this side of death... The Seals that hold back the night shall weaken... All that is, all that was, and all that will be shall balance on the point of a sword, while the winds of the Shadow grow...' She let the thoughts wander, weightless, and wash away. For a while. Whilst she could. Until, some time later: ''...The Wheel weaves as The Wheel wills ..." "All things change... until we wake, the dream drifts on the wind... " ''...The Wheel weaves as The Wheel wills ..." "All things change... until we wake, the dream drifts on the wind... " ''...The Wheel weaves as The Wheel wills ..." "All things change... until we wake, the dream drifts on the wind... " Her return to the weight and responsibility of reality had always been inevitable, Cal knew. But she had not expected it to begin in quite that fashion, nor that immediately persistent. She slipped once more under the water as the long-ago voices of her early Tower teachers and a most beloved Wise One from later years in the Waste began bubbling, entwined, to the surface of her mind. No amount of conscious meditation or warm water could wash Shadows or the turning of The Wheel away, she knew. And what was more, the truth and strength of each of those affirmations in her mind were both undeniable and welcome, despite their weight. With near-perfect Aes Sedai poise, she surfaced and exited the bath in a single move, taking extra care to spill as little water as possible onto the floor. Her fingers toyed with the leather cord and ring around her neck as she did so, and she smiled at herself as she realised what she was doing in those two moves, and why. Aiel punishments, it seemed, had left memories at least as strong as their wise quotes, even after all these years. With a twinge of longing for Aaran and the moments of that life that had once been, she released her hold on the ring and reached for her towel. The road ahead was surely paved with all the reasons why the Sisters of the Green and their Warders stood ready, and trained. She had chosen her Ajah for good reasons. And she was clean enough, for now. ● Besides, Calia noted, Elessar was moving from his previously-settled position downstairs, returning to his room with a slight flare of wariness was flickering through the bond. She dressed quickly in response, still taking the time to ensure her 'Mara the merchant' attire and reflection had no noticeable weaknesses or flaws before she entered the hall. Knocking softly on Elessar's door, she called "Brother?" and waited for his reply before entering. Once inside, with the door softly closed behind her, she pulled a circle of knotted rope from the bag she had collected from her room. Encouraging Elessar to stand close beside her, she lifted the circle up and over both of their heads and spreading the circumference as wide as it would go on the floor. The effect of standing in the circle this way wouldn't be quite the same as having wards set to silence the entire room, but she was confident enough that the weave she had tied to it would make all conversation unintelligible to any would-be listeners. Her gaidin's presence was as steady and determined as ever, but she knew him well enough by now to know he was concerned about something, even if she hadn't felt that flash of wariness through the bond. The Wheel alone knew what was being woven around them now. "What is it?" she asked, matching his balance, keeping her voice low and calm, her eyes searching his face as she waited for his reply... ▀▄

Illusions ►▼◄ The bracelet on Calia’s wrist had thrummed with a barely perceptible hum, that subtle tension only she could feel, the invisible tether guiding her to their quarry. She could sense the would-be assassin’s movements as if they pulled on a thread knotted between them, stretched just tight enough to relay faint impressions of distance, direction, and motion. Each shift reverberated against her skin, a rhythm she felt as surely as her own pulse. Her fingers had traced over the plain silver arrow charm beside her dragonfly—a simple decoration to most, but she treasured the masterpiece of Spirit and delicate whispers of Fire she kept kindled within it - and the ability to form and track powerful connections such as it had. As well as the knowledge on how to keep the weave so finely woven for both responsiveness and inversion that even another channeler would miss it upon their person if they didn’t look for it. That delicate balance had taken years of practice, testing, trial and perfection between herself and her closest Sisters. Now - she had severed that link - as quickly, completely and as discreetly as she knew how. But a sense of dread still snaked and bit at her from those Shadows with every heartbeat. She knew she had felt only a glimpse of the woman's strength in the One Power, seen only a glimpse of the figure in the cloak, but that glimpse had been enough to make her blood run cold. The angle of the woman’s face beneath her hood, the intensity of her aura and the piercing feeling that accompanied her presence like an impossibly sharp, heavy weight pressing down; the embrace of saidar that was palpable and wrenching in a way that was once-felt, never forgotten - The details had come too fast to be logically sure of anything. But they were unmistakable. Light! Only twice before that internal prayer had felt so immediately, impendingly overshadowed. Once near the Plain of Lances, and then, more recently at Four Kings. Now here. There is no certainty yet, she reminded herself, breathing deep, calming her thoughts. She couldn’t afford to let fear guide her mind's steps. But she knew, in her heart of hearts. And the possibilities alone were enough to turn their mission from dangerous to near impossible. “Do we continue with our plan?” Elessar whispered, shifting his gaze to the two figures in the distance and then meeting her eyes squarely. “Or should we reassess the situation?” A surge and flash of saidar pulled Calia's glance back toward the Shadows. The woman was gone! Darkness remained. Again she caught a faint residue of that complicated weave! Calia turned her eyes back towards her Warder, and the Light, focusing on what was still plainly before her, rather than what had vanished and what was yet to be. Regardless of the risks, their task remained the same: retrieve the seal before it fell into the wrong hands. No matter whose hands those might be - Her heart solidified the resolve her mind was yet unable to comprehend. She forced herself to be calm, to breathe as if they weren’t mere steps away from something that could end... everything. She felt the silent connection between herself and Elessar - both concerned, both steadfast, both unwavering. She trusted him with her life, trusted his thusfar unwavering calm and resolve to counterbalance her own fervor with his own. He would follow her - had followed her - to put his life 'before' hers. And despite how well she knew he chose that path wholeheartedly, the weight of that knowledge deepened her determination to do things right, and make sure they would always do the dedications they had sworn justice. “We need to leave,” she said, her voice a measured tone that belied her inner storm. "Now." Elessar's eyes, dark and steady as the earth beneath their feet, searched her face and her own electric, icy blue resolve. She felt the silent connection between them as a subtle warmth—They had committed to 'standing ready', and Elessar would need to see that she was just as steady and dedicated to that end as always. ● "So, we move, fast. And we change as often as night turns into day," Calia's summary of concerns and the bare outline of her plan was succinct. They moved immediately, with purpose, as soon as Elessar nodded his agreement. ● The stables of the Hanging Noose loomed ahead, shadows creeping here and there about the walls in the dim light of early evening. Even from a distance, the structure smelt of dirtied straw, damp hay and worn leather. Calia knew that the stablehands would have retired to their dice and taverns by now, but tonight at least, she was grateful for their bad habits. A glance exchanged with Elessar confirmed their sentiments were shared. "Ssssh girl, shhhh now," Calia soothed the skittish mare at her side as they crossed toward the building and she felt the horse's ears flick back, "We didn't have the luxury to be too picky, but it's a better place than where you both came from, that's for sure!" The mare gave no reply. Beside them, the stallion led by Elessar was also silent. Well, Calia thought in response to the lack of equine argument, At least these two have the right heights and weights, if not the right temperaments, to do the trick ... Illusion weaves, it was true, worked best the closer one kept to what was there before in size and shape - and these two had fit the bill at least. As far as anyone watching would be concerned, the Warder and Aes Sedai were leading their very distinctive socked-and-flaxen chestnut carthorse and dark stallion back to the stables, as they had done before. At least that's what Calia had intended with the careful, inverted weave - and she had been quite proud of the results - as far as she could tell, the only 'easy' distinctions to be made at this point were in the horse's temperaments. And she doubted many had got close enough to their mounts for that to count any time soon. In fact, if the Light was with them and Elessar and herself had their way, Calia hoped it would be quite some time before anyone realised the Aes Sedai and Warder had departed Lugard, despite having left 'their' distinctive mounts behind. Together, the Sedai and Warder slipped, silent as wraiths, into the stables. Elessar took the lead, rearranging the horses and packing provisions and belongings on Socksie and Stormbreaker with practiced ease that disguised any tension he might have felt. His movements as sure as they had ever been, his hand resting loosely by his side, sword within instant reach the instant he was done. Calia followed, her steps light, her senses acutely aware of every creak of wood and scuff of her boots against the stable’s earthen floor as she embraced the source and prepared for the next installment of their plan. "Well my girl," she murmured to Socksie, who snorted appreciatively. "I told you we'd have to be careful here - but did I tell you that when in Lugard, there's a better rule?" "Trust no-one but your self, and yourself not too much,'" she confided, and then set to work. ● A good deal later, they were packed and mounted upon two very different-looking beasts than the ones they had ridden into Lugard on. Elessar remained stoic - even beneath his woven disguise, his gaze always watchful, ready. Calia felt a flicker of warmth as she looked at him. Disguised or no, this fierce Warder would lay down his life fighting for the Light and for her without hesitation. But he also knew when to leave the fight to live another day. He’d said nothing yet in response to the threat that had driven them from Lugard, but she knew he saw the implications almost as well as she did. "Trust no-one," the Lugardians might have proffered, but Calia decided that in this, she would keep her - and Elessar's own - council. “We won’t look back,” she said softly. “And we’ll keep our heads low until we’re far, far from here.” Elessar’s solemn nod was enough. Together the pair eased their horses from the stable, making their way out of Lugard in silence, melding into the dim alleyways with practiced caution. ● As the faint glow of twilight gave way to deepening shadows, two perfectly non-descript travelers left the stables atop two perfectly non-descript, yet plucky horses. They moved out of the yard, all sense of them soon lost in Lugard's winding alleys, the sounds of raucous merrymaking, arguments and twisting shadows. If the dark woman atop the large grey horse looked exhausted from creating, inverting and tying off a series of complex weaves in a short space of time, or the young blonde man atop the dull roan looked wary enough to be a Warder, nobody - not even a channeler - could tell why. ● Finally, they reached the edge of Lugard, where the dense buildings began to thin, giving way to open fields and the distant silhouette of the hills. Together, they guided their mounts onward, the faint, raucous sounds of the shifty city fading into the distance behind them, leaving only the shadows and the open road ahead. Only then did Calia allow herself a deeper breath, releasing the immediate tension in her body as the night air wrapped around them, cool and almost refreshing. But there was no true rest in her bones; the threats in Lugard's shadows still clung to her, and the journey before them was still fraught with dangers they had barely begun to contemplate. She glanced at Elessar, who met her gaze with a look of unyielding resolve. "We," Calia said, drawing her horse close to Stormbreaker and looking up at her gaidin, "are going to need some serious speed on the path ahead." And, Light help us! More allies with iron resolve down the track, if we are to turn the tide against this rising Dark!

The would-be assassin’s silhouette shifted deftly across the face of a building at the far end of the narrow alley. Elessar breathed a warning to Calia, his second knife half-raised, determination gleaming sharp in his dark eyes despite the man’s swift retreat. Calia’s hand came to rest lightly on her Warder’s shoulder, the smallest shake of her head enough to still his action. His knife lowered a fraction as the faint echoes of the assassin's footsteps faded into the general hum of Lugard’s city streets. She offered Elessar a small smile, glad they had thwarted the assassin's plans so far - and that nothing was lost. She had the beginnings of a plan, and she would share it with him soon, once the other attacker’s fate was confirmed. After several moments, the Aes Sedai and the Warder moved as one, alert to their surroundings. Cal kept the warmth of saidar flowing through her like a river ready to be unleashed. But nothing stirred. The two of them approached the spot where Calia suspected the second assassin had fallen, and she wasn’t disappointed. A single well-placed knife had found its target in the critical upper left portion of the man's chest. Calia exchanged a smile with Elessar. It had been an excellent throw in the dark. The dead man’s features and clothing offered no immediate answers beyond what her Warder highlighted after a short study - “This was no simple thief,” Elessar murmured, crouching to inspect the body more closely. “These men were professionals.” Calia nodded silently, her thoughts mirroring his own. She could feel it too. These men had known what they were doing. “The question is,” Elessar added after a moment, his face pensive, “did they know who they were trying to kill?” “I don’t think so…” Calia replied, glancing down the dark alley. “After all, who would be fool enough to attack an Aes Sedai and her Warder as they stroll through the shifty shadows of a backstreet alley?” she gave him a lopsided grin as she asked *** Her voice was calm, but her thoughts turned inward. The bracelet at Calia’s wrist hummed ever so slightly beneath her skin, a delicate reminder of the tiny weave she’d tied to the fleeing assassin—barely there, yet potent in its subtlety. The sliver of Spirit, anchored to the small, plain silver arrow-shaped charm beside her dragonfly, was so finely tuned to the man’s body temperature that he would never notice its presence. The weave was a masterwork of patience, one she had perfected over many, many years — Spirit twined with a touch of Fire, hidden in plain sight. And then inverted, so that it was truly hidden from all. She flexed her fingers absently, feeling the faint threads of the weave stretch, pulled taut in the direction of her prey. The assassin was moving, and she sensed the pulse of that movement through the weave—its tension like a spider’s thread, whispering a distance she could feel but not really see. Her gaze drifted back to the corpse at her feet, then to the shadows beyond the alley. The face of the assassin who had escaped gnawed at her—the flash of those sharp, cold eyes, the set of his jaw. She’d seen his likeness - at least - before, in another dark alley under a different sky. The night she and Elessar had first crossed paths in Tar Valon, when they were hunted by men who had possibly known far more than they should about what the Warder and Sedai had discovered. The resemblance was strong, if not unmistakable, in her mind. The more experienced, sour-faced man from that night… Could it really be him? Was the Pattern twisting threads she couldn’t yet - would never- see, or was her own mind playing tricks on her? Her chest tightened at each of the options, but she pushed the uncertainty aside. There would be time for questions later. For now, the weave hummed softly against her wrist, a steady reminder that while the assassin had fled, he was also now caught in their web. Behind her, she felt Elessar shift, his presence as steady as the earth beneath her feet. She felt his gaze on her and turned, the weight of his unasked questions as palpable as the weave linking her to their quarry. His eyes, too, flicked down the empty alley, searching for answers. Calia’s fingers flexed again, testing the tautness of the weave like a marionettist might test a puppet's strings. “We can find him - if we want to,” she murmured, her voice just low enough for Elessar’s ears alone. “When it’s time.” *** "It's potentially risky," Calia acknowledged, "depending on who the men were and why they targeted us as they did. And..." her voice trailed off as dread dragged at her heart and the pit of her stomach. "... who they might ultimately be linked -or have been linked- to..." She kept her gaze connected with Elessar's. With effort, she inhaled and exhaled, determined to shake the tension her thoughts caused before she continued. "So. We only act on this if we are both in agreement. Do you want to follow him?" Calia asked Elessar, emphasising the facdt that she would not be acting further on this matter without - or against - joint input. *** To Calia's mind, the streets of Lugard bustled with every iota of its usual shifty, dangerous energy, a stark contrast to that of the calming, reassuring presence of the Warder bond between Calia and Elessar. Together, they moved swiftly but without urgency, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if the attack in the alley had been nothing more than a minor disturbance. Calia’s eyes scanned the marketplace they entered, though her mind was focused elsewhere—on the thread of Spirit tied to her wrist, stretching in a subtle line toward their mark. The weave hinted at distance, and at the assassin moving steadily through the city, unknowingly guiding them through the labryinthiney streets. “Still moving,” she murmured, barely turning her head to address Elessar. Her tone was casual, but her focus remained sharp. There was too much at stake here. Elessar nodded, his steps in perfect sync with hers, eyes always scanning. “We need to find out who sent them.” His voice was low, but there was an edge of steel in it. They both knew this attack was no random encounter—it was targeted. As they approached the end of the marketplace, Calia flexed her fingers again, feeling the thread lax slightly. The assassin was slowing. “He's either hiding or meeting someone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We need to be ready.” They reached the corner of a narrow side street, and Calia could feel the tug of the weave stronger now, a direct line leading them into another shadowed alley. Her breath caught as they reached the mouth of the alleyway. The assassin had stopped moving. As in, had become completely paralysed. Elessar met her gaze, his dark eyes unreadable but alert. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and she knew with certainty that he would be ready for whatever they would find. Cal, for her part, resisted the urge to hold saidar as her and her Gaidin made their approach. As it was, Calia's every sense was on high alert—the murmur of voices from a nearby tavern, the smell of freshly baked bread mingling with the tang of damp stone. They turned a corner, and there he was—the assassin, speaking in hushed tones with a second figure, cloaked and hooded, their face hidden in shadow. Calia’s eyes narrowed as she observed the would-be-assassin's posture - the tension in his frame unmistakable. This didn't just look like the man was simply reporting to a superior—he was vehemently pleading. The hooded figure stepped forward, voice cold and low, though Calia couldn’t hear the words. She felt someone embrace the source. Her heart raced. Whoever this was, they weren’t just some cutthroat. They had the ability to weave—and they were unbelievably powerful and dangerous. She exchanged a look with Elessar, her heart pounding in her chest despite herself. The weave on her wrist felt like a lifeline, but it was clear now that something far more sinister was at play. If they were to strike, they had to be careful. One wrong move, and any of them could die before the truth was actually uncovered. The air between them hung thick with tension, the decision looming. To strike or to wait? To uncover who was behind this? The choice would define their next move. And for once Calia was not going to make these moves alone! * ^ *

"We-" < ! X ! > A sudden <stab> of heat bloomed at the center of Calia's throat. Her entire body jerked hard to the right. ● The streets of Lugard had grown darker as the evening settled in, the city’s bustling energy slipping away with the last rays of sunlight. The narrow alley they found themselves in now was a world apart from the dusty, crowded marketplace they’d passed earlier. Here, shadows pooled in forgotten corners, and the soft scuff of their boots seemed to echo louder than it should, as if the alley itself were holding its breath. The oppressive quiet had gnawed at Calia’s awareness, pressing in closer with each step. The alley was closing in around them, narrowing into a dilapidated unpaved path of dirt, stone and shadow. The tall buildings that flanked them loomed overhead like silent sentinels, their worn facades watching, waiting. The air felt heavy, dense with something more than just the humidity of a Lugard night. Her senses strained to catch any hint of movement, any sound out of place. She had pushed aside thoughts of her mission and the day's affairs, focusing instead on the shadows ahead. Who else she and Elessar could possibly trust at the Tower was a question for later - likely much later - than tonight. They needed to focus on what was directly in front of them first. She had checked, again, that the warning wards attached to her circlet were still in place, a flicker of irritation shooting through her at the fact that she couldn't remember doing so in the first place. Burn it, woman. Lugard! Focus! Their mission had brought them to here, deeper into the heart of what was becoming a tangled web of rumors and half-truths about the Shadow’s movement. She had hoped that the further South they'd traveled, the clearer answers they might find, but so far it had not been the case - the streets and her contacts had offered little more than cryptic whispers. Too much noise and too little substance, she thought. Too many broken links... She scanned the shadows before them rather than allow her mind to wander back into the recent past. No way back. She shut the thought down, as she had since the day after leaving Four Kings, forbidding it to surface at a time that was not solely hers. It was not the first time she'd borne scars courtesy of the Shadow. And it would likely not be the last. But there were new scars now. There forever more, unlike her loved ones and family, whether she hid them deep or not. Such was the life of an Aes Sedai. And many others. And so, as Cal had vowed, she would fight with everything she had left. She'd scanned the shadows before them, Elessar moving ahead of her, his silhouette tall and steady in the half-light. She could feel his vigilance through the bond, the subtle thrum of alertness that had become a constant presence between them. And she'd considered, appreciatively, how much had changed since their first alley-way adventure back in Tar Valon. She just hadn't expected so many things to also stay the same. ● Saidar flooded through her, enhancing her senses, catching the flash of silver in the corner of her eye as the knife flew past - too close—too close—and the blade buried itself into the wood behind her with a solid thwuck. And then, the world lurched as Elessar tackled her to the ground, his body a blur of motion, instincts perfectly timed with hers. Her heart raced, saidar humming in her veins, and she set to searching the shadows for the source of the attack. < ! X ! > Another knife! Following the second! Eyes wide now, on full alert, she scanned the areas of Shadow ahead, in the direction of where the blades had been coming from. A shift to the right! A grunt as her gaidin's new knife found its mark. Good, she thought with a nod. Now they probably needed more light there. A globe would do it, if she set it far enough away that it wouldn't light her and her Warder up like targets in the dark. A low, nearly inaudible hiss escaped her lips. “Elessar.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the Warder’s head tilted ever so slightly, a signal that he had heard. She made hand signals indicating a ball and burst of light and pointed to the high point down the lane, knowing her gaidin would see what she meant to do, and could protect his own field of vision when she did. She felt the familiar ripples of saidar pooling in every fiber of her being, like a current waiting to be unleashed. The bond with Elessar hummed with alertness beside her. He was always there—steady, watchful, a blade in the darkness ready to strike. He had moved instinctively to shield her, placing his body between hers and the knives, putting his life before hers, just as he had vowed. Not on my watch, she had thought, prepared to protect him in the instant the threat had made herself known at her neck. She setting a shimmering wall of Air and Spirit around herself and her gaidin the instant his knife had left his hand. “Keep low,” she signaled. She wove the orb using everything but Fire - that she kept separate until both her and Elessar were ready. Her eyes flicked toward the spot where Elessar had thrown his knife and she felt a brief surge of pride at his unerring accuracy. There was no sign of further movement, only the stillness of the night around them. Yet, she remained poised, waiting, the bond between them vibrating with the silent agreement to remain cautious. Through the bond, she sent a pulse of acknowledgment to Elessar. And then she flung the orb towards an overhang on the side of the building where the grunt had come from and filled it with a burst of Fire and Spirit that spotlighted the area just as they needed. Her fingers instinctively sought the hilt of her dagger, its cool metal a reassuring weight in her hand. Calia stared intently into the glow that Shadows had all but fled, wondering who their would-be assassin might be this time, and for some reason, finding it impossible to shake the young man they'd met previously in an alley setting - dark haired and dark eyed with a crooked nose and a long scar down his face... Calia stared into the newly lit alley, her mind racing. Who was their attacker this time? Her instincts whispered a warning that there was absolutely potential that there was more at play here than a simple robbery. She didn't know what, exactly, was happening here, in this alley, on this night. But she did know that her and Elessar would handle it together. And that maybe some things, some people, never changed! ...

Shifting Shadows ►▼◄ Calia and Elessar rode from the camp in silence. Her bay and Stormbreaker moved on with a mostly steady rhythm, each as unfaltering as ever despite the residual fatigue and events of the previous day. The sun rose lazily, glimmers of sunlight sneaking into the world with the beginning of dawn. Soft nocturnal shufflings and other sounds quietened in the woods around them, stilled. For a time, silence hung heavier in the air than the rustle of leaves in the wind or the fall of hoofbeats on the ground. Long shadows clung to the road like a reluctant farewell to night. Then, little by little, the veil of darkness and obscurity lightened and lifted from the road and surrounding countryside, and the colours and details of the day emerged. Calia processed sounds and scanned ahead automatically as they rode on, as she always did. In a practice born from long experience, she tried to appreciate the blessings and wonder of the day as it began - the first hints of dawn, the soft calls of first one then two, then three - then all - birds to chorus, the gentle spread of Light and warmth. The serene beauty of the day did not go unseen. Still, her heart ached. A large part of her focus returned again and again to Four Kings, and she felt the sense of growing wrongness with the world as a heavy weight that had now reached - and irreversibly smothered - a space of importance at her very core. She had felt that same devastating weight before, too many times to count, in over a century of nightmares since her arches. She had endured the pain twisting through her entire being like a spear had stuck in her heart, every time. This time though, It. was. all. real. and There was no way back ● Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill with the impact of each hoofstrike taking her further away from what had once, and against all custom and expectation had somehow always still been home. "There is always some reason not to return, something to prevent you, or distract you. ...You must want to be Aes Sedai more than anything else in the whole world, enough to face anything, fight free of anything, to achieve it..." The Mistress of Novice's voice gnawed at her mind, as it had for many years following the Arches and each of her recurring nightmares. As it had after the deaths of Shem and Joesh, Aaran. But this time, Calia refused to let the words twist in her mind. 'Being Aes Sedai' only mattered because everything else in the world mattered so much. Because every scrap of connection to joy and Light that was - and should remain - close to one's heart, was utterly important. It wasn't about 'being Aes Sedai', Calia thought, it was about becoming as equipped as possible to face anything, fight free of anything, achieve anything - to ensure that darkness never entirely won the battle, never grew stronger than the love for everything else in the world, never outweighed the hope that Light could remain. Too late, the deeper costs of pouring her energy into 'being Aes Sedai' by maintaining deliberate separation from all else in the world for so many years - including the various lights that had remained to her in Four Kings - became clear. Joem and Amelie, the orchards - those lights had deserved more of her attention while they had shone in the world. Now they too were gone, for good. The years of deliberate distance hadn't spared her any loss of light - they had kept her world unnecessarily dim. She might not have known and loved her great grand-nephew and his wife as much as the family members she had maintained active connections with - but she could have. She could have fought for the Light, and lived in it too. Despite the pain, she did her best to keep her head high, and her sights on the road ahead. Even when the tears began to fall. ● Some time later, Calia glanced over at Elessar and Stormbreaker, keeping pace beside her. The Warder's face was a mask as he surveyed the road and surrounds. Neither of them had spoken since leaving the camp, but the bond held the space between them with a combination of care and determination for which Calia was grateful. She had kept the greater wash of her emotions somewhat free of the bond to reduce the subsequent impacts on Elessar as they had travelled, but out of trust, respect and a determination to not fall into old habits, she had not masked the sense of the bond itself entirely, as she might once have done. Each of them deserved the light and honour of the connection they had chosen to serve in, and she was not going to be the one to make the mistake of keeping that at bay. As the road curved gently downhill, the sound of rushing water drifted toward them, faint at first, but growing louder as they travelled on. Soon, the shimmer of a river came into view, its surface glistening under the midday sun like a ribbon of silver threading through the landscape. The river meandered alongside the road for a short stretch, its waters clear and fast-moving, tumbling over smooth, worn stones. Tall, leafy trees cast patches of dappled shade along the bank, and wildflowers bloomed in clusters, their soft fragrance carried on the breeze. Calia slowed her horse, her eyes drawn to the cool waters as they eddied in a shallow bend, forming a gentle pool between the rocks. The peace of the scene offered a quiet respite from the road’s dust and the weight of their journey. The thought of slipping into the river—of feeling the cool, rushing water wash away the heaviness of the last few days—was tempting. A rest here, even if only a short one, would be welcome. And a wash in the pool would likely be both more effective and refreshing than the rinsing from water barrels they had managed at Four Kings. The idea took root quickly - a small, practical indulgence that seemed more necessary with each passing moment. Calia cast a glance at Elessar, gauging their pace and whether a brief stop might be acceptable. The road ahead stretched far, but the river here, peaceful and inviting, felt like a small moment of respite waiting to be seized. Voicing her thoughts to Elessar, she was glad when her Warder had not objected in the slightest. ● "...You are washed clean of Calia Luin from Four Kings." Calia lifted her chin, stubbornly, at the memory of the words. Just as she had after the first time she'd witnessed the Shadow take Four Kings and felt the torment of the people and world she loved snuffed out by the dark. The woman was wrong. Then and now. "You are washed clean of all ties that bind you to the world..." Calia Luin, Aes Sedai of the White Tower and of Four Kings, closed her eyes let the water of the river rush and swirl around her. The ties of her past - her family, her home, the sweet smells of the inn and orchards - had been scorched and ruined by fire and Shadowspawn, not washed away by being Accepted or Aes Sedai. She held tight to the memories of home and kin that had brought her light, and rubbed at her skin as if to chase away the smell of smoke that clung in her mind. The river lapped at her, its current strong but comforting in its embrace, and she pushed off from the bank, determined to be unmoored on her own terms. A rustling noise from the bank, heavy and persistent, brought her back to reality as she drifted. Her eyes snapped open. A snort. A loud, insistent snort and heavy movements in the underbrush near where they had left the horses and the saddlebags. She couldn't see the area from where she was in the pool. Embracing the source, she waded towards the bank, and catching Elessar's eye for less than a second before - "Socksie?!" The name flew from her lips before her mind had caught up. But sure enough, amidst a trail of squashed underbrush, her nose digging around Calia's saddlebags stood Socksie, refusing to be pushed aside from the search for apples by the second cart-horse for even a second. >>>>>><<<<<< Several weeks later, despite the difficulties of the journey South, Calia still grinned every time her thoughts wandered back to that moment by the river - and the antics that had ensued. Even now, as wagon after wagon clattered through the Shilene Gate, her thoughts drifted back to Socksie's reappearance and the memories sparked warmth in her heart. The dirt, dust, and din of Lugard—Murandy’s twisted, disreputable capital—pressed in on all sides, but not even the city’s lack of charm could dim the lightness that memory brought. Luin cart-horses had always been known for their intelligence and gentle, easy-going temperaments, but it had been no easy feat getting the two escapees - particularly Socksie - to leave the apples in the saddlebags alone, or to follow Stormbreaker and the bay rather than take at least equal lead on the road! And then there had been the drama, days later, of trying to leave them both behind at the Hilran Estate for safe-keeping as Elessar and herself continued on to Lugard and beyond. Not that the caretakers of the estate objected in any way - Calia Sedai was well-enough known to them and the head of the house they served that they gladly offered their services for as long as she might require. Socksie, on the other hand, had done her best to make her disagreement with such an arrangement very well known. More than once. Calia ceased her reminiscing as they ventured deeper into the city, making sure the wards on everything of importance were still in place and holding strong. Here the streets grew of Lugard more crowded, and the faces that passed them were harder, filled with weariness and suspicion born of experience in this city. She watched the passers-by from the questionable comfort of her saddle, sensing the wariness of both horses and her Warder as much as her own. She couldn't speak for the horse, but she knew it was no great secret to Elessar that in this melting pot of trade, commerce, danger and deceit, trust was a rare commodity, and foreigners - even Warders and Aes Sedai - all made a 'fair' marks. 'Yes, we have to be careful here, girl', Calia spoke softly as she patted the strong chestnut neck stretched out in front of her. A single ear flicked back in her direction was the only response from her new, stubbornly self-appointed mount. Until the big mare swung her head sharply to the side and snorted a very clear warning at a stranger that dared to get too close. Outwardly, Calia kept her gaze and demeanour as sharp as ever, but internally, her heart still felt more full than she had thought possible for days after Four Kings. Whoever had coined the Lugarder saying "Trust no one but yourself, and yourself not too much" had obviously never had a gaidin like Elessar—or horses like Stormbreaker and Socksie—by their side. She caught Elessar's eye briefly as they each navigated with practiced ease through the throngs of vendors, cutpurses, visitors - and most of those who simply lurked in the shadows, waiting for a chance to spring. As they approached the Hanging Noose inn, Calia dismounted, her hands moving in fluid motions to tie off wards around the tack and horses. Socksie, ever aware, followed her movements closely with big brown eyes, nosing at pockets with expectation as soon as Calia lowered her hands. Cal grinned. Fishing the apple from her pocket she leaned close to the mare to whisper, "Be good then," as she handed over the reins. The big horse let out a huff at that, shaking her head vigorously and stamping a hoof in a way that seemed to promise no compliance. Calia chuckled softly. 'An entirely appropriate response,' she thought to herself as she waited for Elessar to return, 'We are in shifty Lugard, after all'. ▀▄

Flashes of Light ►▼◄ The darkness of the woods was interrupted only by the faint glimmers of moonlight filtering through the canopy above. Save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze and the soft sounds of Stormbreaker and the bay mare shifting in their sleep, the night was still. Calia lay curled in a blanket, asleep on a bed of moss, her face half-hidden in shadow. Her gaidin kept a stoic and quiet watch close by as the night wore on and dawn grew ever closer. The night was still, yes, but there was no stillness in the Aes Sedai's mind. Old nightmares clutched at her, dragging her deeper into a dark, twisted world where scenes from silver arches and the horrors of the Shadowed Sunday she had witnessed earlier mixed and replayed with merciless clarity. Between each torturous scene, a | | ! FLASH ! | | of disappearing, channeled power, and the fading residue of the weave she had never seen. ~●~ ! FLASH ! The slice of light in the air imploded and instantly disappeared. With it the sense of saidar use that was not her own. Remnants of the twisted pattern etched, deeper still, into her mind. ! FLASH ! Four King's villagers: surrounded by fire, snarling faces, rending claws and gleaming black blades. A myrddraal's eyeless face turning towards Elessar and herself as they arrived, its lips stretching back over bared teeth in a grotesque, Shadowy smirk. ! FLASH ! A shield of Air and Spirit slammed around the villagers, separating them from smoke and Shadow alike. The myrddraal's body fell in separate, severed pieces even as the beast flew towards them. Saidar hummed in her veins. ! FLASH ! ... The way back will come but once. Be steadfast... Except there was no way back. Not this time. Joem and Amelie lay before her, their bodies broken and lifeless on the ground. But in her mind, they weren’t just Joem and Amelie—they were also her Da, her Ma, and her little sister Thayet, lying as she had found them so many times before. The nightmare played out in a cruel loop, merging the two scenes until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. She knelt beside them all... Never again. ! FLASH ! Socksie, Thayet's beloved horse-doll was there in her hands, whole and unburnt this time. She lifted the patchwork toy to her cheek, the touch of soft threads bringing a warmth to her chest. For a moment, she was just a girl again, playing in the orchard with her sister and her best friend, laughing and carefree. The scent of sweet apples floated on the wind. Then, the scene shifted and toy-Socksie became the real cart horse, big and calm, gentle and trusting, leaning alongside her cheek-to-cheek, nuzzling at her hand. Calia leant into the memory, letting it soothe her - a promise of something to hold onto, something that hadn't been taken by the Sunday Shadows. ~●~ The nightmares retreated. Calia's eyelids fluttered as she drifted back into consciousness, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant call of a nightbird coaxing her from the depths of exhaustion. For a few moments, she lay still, her body heavy with fatigue, processing the fragmented images that swirled in her mind—fire, smoke, the shattered remains of the orchard, and the faces of those she could not save. The scent of charred wood clung stubbornly to her senses, and she inhaled sharply, pushing away the memories on the exhale, thankful there did not seem to be any actual fire nearby. She shifted, sitting up slowly, and the blanket she didn't remember seeking slipped from her shoulders. Instinctively she turned towards the comforting presence of Elessar nearby, grateful that he had obviously taken care of her when she had not been in a state to do so for herself. Just how tired was I? The Warder sat close by, his posture alert despite the stillness of the night. His eyes swept over their surroundings, his vigilance a silent reassurance. Calia could sense his concern through their bond. She felt their gazes meet in the dark, and she managed a small, weary smile. She wasn’t certain if he could see it or if it was lost altogether in the dim light, but she could feel the bond between them, still humming with shared understanding. Exhaustion, grief, determination—it all melded into the sense of a silent exchange that words would never quite fit or capture. She was simultaneously sorry to have brought him to this, and deeply grateful to have him by her side. The cool night air brushed against her skin, a sharp contrast to the searing heat of the flames that haunted her memory. Elessar held out a waterskin, and she accepted it with a thankful nod, drinking deeply. The cool water soothed her parched throat, bringing her back more fully to the present moment. But even as she tried to keep herself in the present, questions gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, refusing to be dismissed. How had the Shadowspawn appeared so quickly? The attack had been sudden, too well-timed to be a mere coincidence. And just as swiftly as they had come, they had vanished, leaving behind only death and destruction. How? The images flashed before her eyes again: Trollocs, the Myrddraal’s eyeless gaze, and the unknown figure disappearing through what appeared to have been a sort of channeled doorway. The presence of that weave lingered in her mind like an echo, the memory of that sudden flash of vertical light, twisting and imploding into nothing - taking that impossibly strong channeler with it, haunted her. It was a weave she had seen only once before, at a distance too great to discern any detail, in the valley battle near the Plain of Lances. It had stunned her then, and it stunned her now. The complexity was both mesmerizing and unsettling. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall the precise structure of the weave, the way the threads had twisted and coiled. The image in her mind was detailed and clear, but the secrets of the weave remained frustratingly elusive. It was as if the pattern had burned itself into her memory, yet refused to reveal its secrets. And then there was the question even she was afraid to touch: Who had channeled it? Was that nightmare really, truly real? The figure disappearing through the slice of Air and Light into ... nothing... flickered in her memory, leaving her with more questions than answers. Her thoughts moved ahead with a sense of growing urgency. The weight of their mission pressed heavily on her. And, she found, so did the mantra that had carried her through the recent chaos: Be steadfast. It wasn’t just a reminder; it was a vow, one she had to uphold no matter the cost. Too much depended on them now. The bond and Elessar's quiet presence anchored her again, pulling her back to the present. She took a deep breath, re-asserting herself in the here and now. She would hold onto these questions, but they had to keep moving. They had to stay ahead of the Shadow. Cal passed the waterskin back to her gaidin, meeting his gaze again. “Thank you, Elessar." She paused a moment before adding with quiet sincerity, "For everything." She rose then, every muscle protesting the movement, and stretched. The unanswered questions lingered like shadows at the edges of her mind. Despite the fatigue weighing down her limbs, she forced herself to stand tall. There was no other choice. They had to continue. She could not allow the Shadows to win—not here, not now. Not ever. "We should move soon," she murmured, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside her. With a determined breath, she walked toward the horses. The moonlight cast a soft glow over the camp, and the gentle sounds of the night were soothing after the chaos of the day. Her bay and Stormbreaker stood nearby, their coats shimmering faintly in the pale light. Calia approached them, her hands gentle as she checked them over. She ran her hands along their flanks, feeling for any signs of strain or injury from their recent journey. The Healing she had administered them and her gaidin earlier should have helped, but she wanted to be certain before they moved on. She whispered soothing words to each horse while her fingers traced muscles and joints, checking for any lingering discomfort. Her touch was light but deliberate. Both animals were clearly tired, but still seemed in good condition, and ready for whatever lay ahead. She turned back to Elessar. "What do you think?" ▀▄

... ~●~ The early afternoon sun shone bright over the Queen's Stand. Echoes of lively music, the buzz of conversations and the joyous squeals of children combined on the breeze to fill every corner of the yard with an air of vibrant energy. Children dashed between tables their, faces smeared with the sweetness of honey cakes and sticky fruit. Adults danced around the maypole or toasted the day, the Light and each other with tankards of apple ale and hearty cheers. The wind wove through the celebration, tugging loose strands of hair, greenery and the free tails of maypole ribbons alike, setting all of them fluttering in the sunlight. As it ruffled the leaves of the trees that bordered the green, Joem and Amelie shared a smile across the yard, moving through the throng separately with trays of ale and platters of roasted meats, their faces glowing with the joy of the day. Moving on, the wind swirled through the stable yard, gently teasing the manes and tails of the white-and-chestnut cart-horses therein. The four-socked mare snorted, shaking her head as the breeze tickled her ears, and the other horse flicked her tail lazily, but did not stop her grazing for a second. Onward the wind moved, away from the yards and into the apple orchard beyond. The leaves rustled in response to its touch, a soothing murmur that blended with the distant notes of music and cheer from the village. The branches of the apple trees swayed gently, setting the fruit swinging in return. Pressing forward, the breeze carried the scent of apples past the orchard’s edge and the property boundary, into the denser woods beyond. Here the trees grew taller, their trunks thicker and their branches more gnarled. Sunlight struggled to break through the canopy and branches, and the shadows spread deeper. The air was thick in the Summer heat despite the remnants of breeze. By now the sound of the wind was barely a whisper, the echoes of music and laughter were long gone. A mass of thick, thorny bushes sprawled among the trees, wild and tangled, an almost impenetrable barrier of twisted branches and razor-sharp thorns. A final breath of wind stirred the bushes with just enough force to reveal a glimpse of stone hidden beyond. And then the wind was no more. Behind the thorns and twisted branches stood an immense stone wall, ancient and intricately carved with patterns of leaves and vines that seemed to shift and move in the dim light all by themselves. Each leaf and tendril was so finely detailed that they appeared almost alive - as if they had grown from the stone itself. The center of the wall was more beautifully carved than the rest. With the passing of the wind, a single leaf, as agelessly delicate and perfect as all the rest, seemed to wake. And then, without a sound, the avendesora leaf shifted downwards in position. And stopped. The stone wall, once solid and unyielding, began to shift. With a deep, grinding groan, it split down the middle and swung open. Between the parted stone, an almost dully reflective surface shimmered, followed by a void so dark that it seemed to swallow the light itself. Once, long ago, such entrances to the Ways had shone like mirrors, reflecting the sun and sky with a brilliance that rivaled the brightest day. But in this time, in this place, only darkness remained within. And from that darkness, the Shadow spilled out into the world. ● The air was tainted thick with the stench of decay and rot and a sense of something foul and menacing as the first creature emerged from the Waygate. Pale and eyeless, the myrddraal slipped out of the ways and into the waiting shadows of the wood with lightening speed and predatory grace. Its black cloak hung motionless over black armour, despite the speed of movement. It waited for just a moment, its head shifting this way and that, its long fingers twitching in anticipation. Behind it came the Trollocs—a flood of monstrous forms that surged from the darkness like a tide of nightmares, their thick hides impervious to the sharp barbs that greeted them at the exit. Bestial faces twisted into snarls, crude weapons slashing and tearing at everything in their path. Soft earth shifted beneath their weight as they raced through the dark forest, and into the orchard ahead. ● Be steadfast - Be steadfast - Be steadfast. The rhythm of the bay's galloping hooves pounded the packed earth of the road, each strike matching that of the words echoing in Calia's mind. The horse ran with her neck outstretched and hooves thundering, flicking dirt and small road debris backwards in their wake, flecks of foam forming around the bit in her mouth. The Aes Sedai kept the reins loose and kept her own eyes forward, back long and elbows tucked close to her knees as the wind bullied her face and whipped her hair and clothes about her almost viciously. Her focus remained unyielding—straight ahead, toward the looming dread she couldn’t yet see in any detail but could feel - again - in the very marrow of her bones. Elessar and Stormbreaker flew by her side, the sound of their passage a heavier, yet just as steady drumbeat backing up her own. Be steadfast - Be steadfast -Be steadfast. Then - a thunderous CRACK! and a resounding ROAR! split the sky ahead! A thick, black plume of smoke poured into the sky from the edge of Four Kings. Calia's heart lurched, cold dread mingling with the fire in her veins. She knew, with a sickening certainty, the source of that explosion—the brewery. Her father's biggest non-family station of pride and joy, built to such precision, to his own design, mostly by his own hands. The brewery. Just a stone's throw or a trolloc's dash away from the yard where the entire village had been at play. The urgency in her chest grew into a fierce, burning ache, urging her onward. She rode with purpose, her thoughts honed to a single, desperate point. Be steadfast! ● Bark and branches shattered into splinters. Apples, ripe and ready for harvest, flew from their peaceful boughs, red and green skins splitting from the forces that assailed them. Sweet flesh was crushed to pulp beneath hooves and clawed feet as bestial howls and cheers filled the air. Juice seeped into the mud and dirt. A cruel smile twisted the thin lips of the Myrddraal so that it's stained and jagged teeth were entirely prominent. With a slow, deliberate motion, it raised one skeletal hand and pointed forward, urging all the linked Shadow Brothers on. In the orchard, the last of the apples fell as the screams of terror began, and bright red skins split open as they hit the ground. ● Her heart pounded in her chest, a relentless throb that matched the ache in her legs from gripping the horse’s sides. Every muscle in her body screamed for rest, for relief, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop. Elessar and Stormbreaker remained by her side, the bond humming with the force of protection. Calia clung to the mantra that had driven her this far. -Be steadfast- And forced her breath to come in controlled, deliberate patterns, forced herself to calm and focus her mind. The world was a blur around her—trees, fields, the sky—nothing but streaks of color as she rode hard. But the dark sense of the horrors and shadowspawn ahead remained. Until, quite suddenly, it was - mostly - gone. She choked the sharp intake of air that interrupted the concentrated rhythm and drew another, more controlled breath in its place. It made very little sense that such a large presence would just ... vanish after reaching Four Kings, and she knew better than to fully relax at the change. The vanishing did not guarantee the end of the terror. And she - needed to be there. Needed to face her fears head-on, and do what she was trained and determined to do - prepare for all of the battles that lay ahead. Be steadfast. She glanced at Elessar by her side. And they galloped on. ● FINALLY, just ahead was the last twist in the road - the stretch where it would open up beside the Luin boundary - the point where, one way or another, the nightmare would become more clear. Calia coughed, her lungs spasming and eyes streaming at the assault of smoke and ash billowing in their direction. Still, she did not slow. Instead, she took a calculated risk, embraced the source and wove nets of Air and Spirit as fast as she could for herself, Elessar and the horses, tying them off around each of their heads in the hopes that they would help. Almost as one, the Aes Sedai and Warder wheeled their galloping mounts around the corner. The - her - their- orchards - were entirely on fire! She blocked the images from her mind. The horse yards were on fire! 'Socksie' and her cart-mate raced the flames amidst a rain of ash - eyes rolling, manes and tails flying, embers flashing in their faces and across their hides and making them rear, buck and wheel in sheer panic. She hardened her heart. Leant forward as Stormbreaker and the bay's hooves pounded the road, swirls of barely-settled ash lifting in their wake. Light, help us! - it was more of an exclamation than a prayer. They rounded the corner at full gallop. To find that the brewery, once a proud centerpiece of the Queen's Stand, was now a collapsed and smoldering pile of ruin. Beyond the broken brewery, the inn was also on fire and beyond the point of no return. Flames licked voraciously up the walls, and black smoke bellowed from the roof. Oh, Light. Be steadfast. Be steadfast. Be steadfast! They reached the gate and Calia flung herself from the saddle, embracing the source and storming down the path. She knew what to expect. Knew what she was likely to see. But still it did not make it any easier to face. She refused to falter in her strides. Please, please don't let it be real - don't let it be too late! This time it was a prayer. Her heart shattered as she entered the yard, her prayer unanswered. They were face with the old nightmare. As real and as familiar as it had ever been - in every single detail. Only this time, Calia knew, there would be no 'way back' appearing in the midst of the horror. No way to simply leave everything behind and return to Tower life. This was the what shall come to pass. The sounds of the merry-making, the laughter, and the music that had filled this place such a short time before were replaced by the roar of the flames and the cries of the dying. Bodies lay scattered across the green - the same green where children had danced and played only hours earlier. The lower half of the maypole lay broken on the ground, the upper half skewered half a dozen bodies, bloodied and broken. The Sunday ribbons, originally so vibrant and full of life, were now charred and torn, the remains of them fluttering weakly under the weight of gore and oppressive heat. Not even the slightest whiff of sweet apple on the Summer breeze remained. There was only smoke, and ash. As she had known it would be. And there. On the edge of the 'green' that had never existed: It was not her Da, face-down in the grass with that once-sandy-blonde hair sticking in every which way without the control of it's usual cap. It was not her Da, trampled, with a makeshift spear sticking up from his back. And it was not her Ma, face down several paces away from his body, her arms extended at an unnatural angle. And, by extension, it was also not their child, not her littlest sister Thayet, lifeless between them. But it was somebody else's child. And it was Joem. And it was Amelie. Tears rolled down Calia's face. Too late. Too late. Too late. A shrill scream from somewhere closer to the center of town cut through the crack of flames. Be steadfast. Calia stood, grateful for the strength of Elessar nearby. She caught his gaze and embraced the Source again, this time not caring who or what might sense it and respond. She knew what was to come. And she knew that afterwards, she would not stay. Could not stay. Because other duties called, and the awful truth was this place was no longer her priority, no longer home. But this time, she thought, I will not leave before resolution. Before revenge. She drew deep, and marched towards the scream. ● The sun had disappeared below the horizon, leaving everything in darkness by the time Calia and Elessar were alone on the road again. Exhausted in more ways than one, Calia pushed the fragmented images of the afternoon's and evening's events out of her mind, focusing only on getting to the next place of rest, as she knew they must. Myrddraal and a handful of trollocs; a flash of light, imploding into a thin vertical slice of twisted air that disappeared leaving only woven residue she could not comprehend - faces of Four Kings villagers in various stages of fear, shock, anger and disbelief, and - in the case of a few of the previous night's customers, shocked recognition and a myriad of other emotions as she and Elessar arrived, as she fought, healed, departed. Socksie and her cart-mate, terrified, consoled. The sounds of four sets of hoofbeats plodding together on the road as they left everything behind. Flashes of memory chased her, but that was all there was for now - flashes. Memories with holes. Later, she knew, the nightmares would probably come. And she would let them. Such was the life of an Aes Sedai. But somehow, though there was less light in the world for now and forever more, and there was fresh pain - not everything in her nightmares had come to pass - the Shadows had not taken everything this time - and she had not left until it was right. And, as weary as they were, there was still the sounds of two sets of hoofbeats now, still side-by-side, still steadfast. She held onto that thought until they stopped and she dropped, beyond exhausted, from the saddle, to stand, weakly, by her bay's drooping head. She felt Elessar start in her direction, and then she let go, and everything turned to black. ~~~●~~ ~

~ ~ ● ~ ~ Calia crouched at the base of the Great Green Apple tree, setting the last of the honour rocks back into place beside the others. Her fingertips brushed lightly over the dents and knocks in the bark of the tree, lingered a moment longer over each of the names carved into the otherwise smooth, time-worn stones. …Kaylan Morin…Joesh Luin…Shem Luin…Aaran Metsar… Each name was carved deep into her heart as well as the stones. Sometimes the weight of the memories there left her bruised and battered, scarred like the bark of the tree. Still, every tap of stone to tree impacted and encouraged new and stronger growth on behalf of those named. And, as each of them had done for themselves in life, so Calia continued the tradition with every visit. ~ ~ ● ~ ~ Today though, even after she had lifted and replaced the older stones, Calia had smiled a little brighter as she crouched at the base of the tree, watching Elessar Telcontar Gaidin add his name and strength to the tree and the stones, her heart and mind full with the experiences and conversations they had shared so far. He, of all people, understood. This was what they fought for, after all - for trees like this one, like those by the fence where they had bonded. For the orchards, pastures, field, forests and rivers - for all of the connections to Life and the Light that nurtured it. Calia's gaze skipped from the rocks. It followed along the deep, strong roots of the tree, to the branches reaching outwards and towards the light and to the bright green fruit growing on every bough - and then to the gaidin who stood respectfully by her side. "The weight of those stones and memories, the bruises to heart and tree - so much more than that remains," Calia thought. Knowing they would leave Four Kings later that day, and brimming with gratitude for the tangible connections of past, present and future Life before her, Calia opened herself to Saidar. With graceful movements, she wove threads of Water from the air and warmed them with gentle wisps of Fire and Spirit. She let her weave flow from her hands to the soft earth around the tree's roots. Then, thanking Light, she released her hold on the Source. Heart more full than heavy, she stepped from the shade of the tree into the early Sunday morning light, heading out of the orchard with Elessar by her side. ~ ~ ● ~ ~ The sun had almost reached its zenith, and was casting a golden Summer warmth over the bustling yard of the Queen's Stand. Calia, dressed for riding Southward in a long-sleeved green shirt and matching, wide, flowing pants woven from cotton and the slightest hint of silk, stood at the edge of the yard, watching as the Sunday festivities unfolded. Already, there was a lively gathering of villagers and visitors in the section of the yard surrounding the alehouse and adjoining the orchard that served as the Sunday 'green'. They gathered in hues of Green and Yellow and Sunday best, their laughter and voices rising with the background music of the minstrels. Strands of green foliage continued to flutter in the rafters of the inn and the alehouse, and the tails of brightly coloured ribbons twirled around the maypole, swirling in the lightest wind. It was a sight that could have done any small town in Andor proud - and Cal couldn't help but smile at that thought. The town had never had a village green when she was a child - and it still didn't, not truly. But Joem and Amelie had managed to transform this section of yard into a welcoming, vibrant centre of festivity. More than once she caught herself marveling that this was Four Kings. When the sun finally reached its full height of the Day, Calia cheered along with the chorus of music and laughter that swelled around her. As the trio of minstrels launched into a lively tune even more vibrant than those of the night before, children of all ages squealed with joy and rushed toward the maypole, their excitement palpable. Calia's grin widened. Now, she knew, the Sunday celebrations would truly begin. And now, she thought, catching Elessar's eye and nodding decidedly, it was high time for the two of them to leave. Duty called. The Wheel waited for no woman, and neither would the Shadow. Calia turned a slow circle, her eyes lingering on every detail in the yard - the fluttering ribbons, the sunlight shining over the orchard, the alehouse brewery and the inn, the scent of apples in the air - committing the scene to memory. The Warder and Aes Sedai made their way across the yard together, raising their arms in unison and nodding farewell to Joem and Amelie as they passed. Details of their earlier goodbyes danced through Calia's mind. "Thank you," Amelie had said simply, curtsying deeper than was necessary with an air of absolute sincerity. Then, reaching into her apron pocket, she had withdrawn a letter and added, quietly, "Please. Could you give this to Thayetta, with our love?" Her blue eyes had shimmered with unshed tears as she lifted her gaze to search that of the Aes Sedai's, but she offered the letter to Calia with a server's steady hand and a quiet strength in her posture. Joem had stood beside her with similar quiet strength, his hand resting on her shoulder in silent support. Calia had accepted the letter with a nod, tucking it carefully into her sadlebags, securing it with care. She hadn't promised she could deliver it quickly, only that she would certainly try. "You have our thanks, Great-Aunt Calia Sedai," Joem had said, bowing his head and his familiar-yet-too-young-face respectfully, his voice steady, "For everything - And you too, Warder Elessar. May the Light Shine on you both." Now, Catching Amelie's eye as they departed, Calia patted her saddlebag meaningfully and inclined her head, smiling one more time at the woman who had worked so many marvels with this inn. ~ ~ ● ~ ~ As difficult as it always was to leave, when the Sedai and Warder reached the stable-yards, Calia couldn't help but laugh. Four horses, not two, stood whickering eagerly at the gate, ears pricked forward, and prancing, ready for a ride. Her bay mare stood alongside Elessar’s Stormbreaker, and beside them, the two large chestnut cart-horses with their beautiful, flaxen manes. One of them, with four white stockings, and an unusual white marking on her rump, so closely mimicked the old rag-doll of Thayet's that Calia had secretly given her the same name the moment they'd met. "We can't take you all, I'm afraid!" she called, much to the big horses' apparent dismay. "But, I do have something else you lot will enjoy!" she patted the bag of green apples tucked into her saddlebags and the horses perked back up, flicking their ears and huffing in anticipation of the tasty consolation. Calia laughed again as she handed out the treats, each horse eagerly taking their share. 'Socksie' nudged at her pockets, searching for more apples, before Calia was even done saddling her bay. “None there, big girl,” Calia murmured. The big horse gave a big huff right up in her face in response. Cal huffed back and pressed her cheek into the horse's neck, enjoying the gentle connection and the reminder of the simple pleasures that made Life so precious. Finally, everything was prepared and there were no more spare apples to be divvied out. With a last goodbye to the cart-horses, a lingering glance at the inn, the orchard and the gathering of people, Calia drew a deep breath, mounted her bay mare and turned onto the road. Such was the life of an Aes Sedai. ~ ~ ● ~ ~ She and Elessar set off, riding side by side down the southern road as they left Four Kings and their new memories behind. As they rode, the sounds of Sunday merry-making followed them on the wind, and Calia couldn’t help but smile, savoring the sounds as much as the sight of every row of apple trees beyond the boundary fence. Calia and Elessar rode in companionable silence for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. Though a part of Calia's mind remained alert, and wary of what might lie ahead, she found that her heart was, perhaps surprisingly, at peace. The visit to Four Kings had been good, for more reasons than one. And much less painful than the last. The road stretched out before them, still uncommonly peaceful and quiet under the midday sun. Calia smiled, grateful to have her gaidin by her side, letting the gentle sway of her mare’s gait and the warmth of the sun on her back lull her into a sense of tranquility. She breathed deep, wishing she could still smell the apples on the wind. And then, she sat, bolt upright in her saddle, shocked to the core by a SUDDEN sense of SHADOW S-H-A-T-T-E-R-I-N-G her peace. Eyes wide with realisation and horror, she looked to her gaidin for the briefest of seconds, knowing he would feel it too. > ! > ! > !! SHADOWSPAWN !!< ! < ! < ! The sense she felt did not let her know what type, or the numbers the feeling underscored, only that there were MANY, and that they were some distance behind. Calia glanced back, her heart frozen in her chest, knowing the basic truth of the nightmare even before she turned. And sure enough, the scene behind her was just as her heart had known it would be. Black smoke rose in an impossibly thick column, darkening the sky and choking out the Light over Four Kings. Everything below that was on FiRe. Without a word, Calia whirled her mare around and kicked her into the hardest gallop of each of their lives, racing back down the road the way they had come. The only thought in her head was NO! Screaming silently alongside a desperate, wordless prayer to whatever Light remained that she was wrong, that she had not seen all this before. That they were not destined to be too late, and that this was not going to be the same as the nightmare scenes she had endured in her Arches. In her test for the Shawl. And in a century of heart-breaking, reoccurring dreams. ~ ~ ● ~ ~ | | | |||||| | || || || ||| ||| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | The DAY spread softly across the world at first , but then the shroud of darkness slipped back over the Westlands, racing against the Sun - Just, perhaps- as the Creator had always intended, until the Shadows suddenly, somehow all now ||||||||||||||||||||||| | | | || |||| | || ||| || | || | | | | | | | ** appeared ** ||||||||||||||| | | |||| | |||| | ||| | || | | | | | | | | ** ( making the light left seem) small **

" OF LIFE . . ." ●● ● - ● - ● ●● | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | || | | | | | | | | | | | | | The day spread softly across the world at first , then the shroud of darkness slipped back, over the Westlands, racing against the Sun - Just, perhaps - as the Creator had always intended until the Shadows suddenly, somehow all now * appeared * |||||| |||||||||||||||| |||||||| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ||||| | | ● small ● | | | |||||| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ● - \ \/- ● -\/ / - ● Sunday shone over Four Kings, the growing daylight sweeping its way down the Caemlyn Road and along dusty side-streets, filling the ruts and rocky pot-holes with a soft golden glow, highlighting the quiet splendor of the feast-day morning. A gentle breeze lifted and drifted lazily around the town, wending over the mostly empty stables, horse-lots and plots of bare earth where merchants usually parked their wagons wheel to wheel. Traditionally, this was the only day of the year that the crossroads of Four Kings were ever so quiet and tranquil; the only time merchants and handlers rested and locals found respite from the endless clamour of shouts, calls, curses and work tied to the wagon trains passing to and from Caemlyn or Lugard and the westward mining towns in the Mountains of the Mist. Locals, and visitors who had stopped and stayed on in celebration, all made the most of the expected morning rest, sleeping off the night's ale and other blissful Summer indulgences in preparation for the day's festivities still to come. Not a single shout from a travelling wagoneer, nor a clanging hammer from a blacksmith could be heard. Occasionally the wind blew a low, wheezy moan or high breathy whistles through the narrow alleyways and tight gaps between buildings. Otherwise, as befitting the morning, the air moved as sleepily and quietly as everyone else, travelling in near silence over the various closed shutters and weathered, whitewashed boards of all the careworn wooden houses lining the street. On the far edge of the town however, the breeze licked its way over the fresh paint of the inn, alehouse and brewery of the Queen's Stand, playing easily across the yard between the buildings and dancing through the apple orchard as if it was the first of the many visitors expected there for Sun-day celebrations. At the whimsy of this gentle guest, strands of green foliage and other Summer decorations fluttered in the rafters of the buildings and tails of coloured ribbons twirled and drifted softly around the waiting maypole. Tiny wisps of wind and ash floated upwards from the cool remains of the evening's bonfire, intermittently adding a light and smoky twist to the otherwise fresh, apple-scented breeze... ~ ~.●.~ ~ The sweet aromas of apple orchard and brewery drifting through the room was as simultaneously arousing and comforting to her senses as it had ever been. And, yes - Sunday eve was supposed to be the time for being wide awake, for jumping over bonfires, dancing under stars and flirting - or more with potential lovers; for celebrating the spirit of Summer and the strength of love and Light - this she knew. Yes - Daylight was pressing against the back of the short curtains drawn across the upper-story shutters with increasing intensity, yet that in itself was easy enough to ignore - the glow permeating into the room remained pleasingly soft, and gentle. The pillows under her head were plump and kept their shape despite the weight that pressed upon them. The bed beneath had ample space, and then some. The bedsheets were almost impossibly luxurious against her skin. And yes - Sunday morn was supposed to be for rest. ...Yes! Theoretically, Calia knew this too. Much, much better than to be not sleeping, and focusing on other things, and a torrent of mixed emotions and thoughts, as she currently was. ~ ● ~:~ ● ~ Calia Sedai - once one of three young girls who had shared this very room in early childhood - was still not sleeping another wink, and it was not for a lack of trying. In blatant betrayal of her best intentions, her blue eyes kept flickering wide open. Her mind played along, dismissing the chance for more sleep and focusing instead on memory after memory after memory as she stared at the ceiling, or gazed around in the soft light and semi-dark of the once entirely familiar room... ~●~ There - the corner where she had often sat huddled with Kaylan: each braiding the other's long, long hair and pinching spots of colour into each other's cheeks, preparing for so many busy - and profitable - nights waiting on the tables. ~●~ Here, that line on the wall - the join of those two particular vertical wooden boards running down to what had been the almost-center of where their bed had been: the mark which Josiane had furiously declared a solid boundary 'to the exclusion of absolutely all other sibling belongings and/or bodies' for an entire, completely ridiculous, week! ~●~ The day Thayet had decided she was old enough, at eighteen months, to join Calia and Josiane in their room... The way she had climbed up onto the shared bed in a tangle of slipping blankets and a ScRaMbLe of scrawny limbs and sandy-blonde hair, one tiny fist clutching her rag-doll horse 'Socksie' tight. Her pale little Luin face shining full of pride before she turned and scampered over the then-mussed bedsheets to sit, absolutely stubbornly, against the far wall - refusing to be returned to her own cot in their parents' room down the hall ...Ever... The way, on that first day, she'd eventually fallen sound asleep, right there against the wall, her tiny thumb half-slipping from her peacefully slack, rosebud mouth, Socksie tight under her arm. The way she had cuddled into Calia every night thereafter, until the day Cal had left to follow Kaylan to the Tower. - ~ ● ~ - With that, Cal gripped the edge of the bedcovers and 'tssk'd with a slight shake of her head to prevent the rise of memories that would otherwise, like the Wheel of Time, roll inevitably on from there. Revisiting any of those difficult memories - the decades and decades of Luin family life that she'd sacrificed by choice; the tears and fights related to her decision; the too-rapid aging and passing of her sisters and parents; absolute absences in so many moments that mattered, from both sides; leaving her family, and this room, behind again and again - was beyond pointless. Such was the life of an Aes Sedai. Particularly a Sister of the Green, determined to make her choices and service count. And her choices were already made from the moment she'd passed the Arches and Aes Sedai tests, donning her ring and shawl, and understanding so deeply the magnitude of consequences linked with not actively fighting back, of letting the Shadow rest. Without further pause, she stood - and purposely exited the near-forgotten comfort of what was, once, hers. -●- She crossed the pre-packed room to the not-so-little, two-piece wooden wash-stand, tucked neatly into the far front corner. Catching sight of the mischievous contraption, she grinned just that little bit wider. The more intricate carvings couldn't be seen in the construction until one had a close up view, of course. But even at a distance, the two halves of the apple-shaped 'fruit bowl' (more practically speaking, the hinged and lidded water basin) were perfectly clear, balancing at what seemed a strange angle atop the upright 'water log' (realistically, the basin's stand). The latter stood about a span tall, appearing for all the world just like the bottom of a solid tree, right down to the various markings of bark cleverly disguising hidden hinges and the handles of the three separate sets of shelves in the 'trunk' - and the way it was, quite definitely, 'rooted' through the floor. ~ ● ~ Light knew where and how long the twins had hewn, hacked and sculpted this ... thing... in secret. Or how their fifteen-year-old selves had managed to install it, carved roots and all, into the floor of the girls' room - and the roof of the room below - without some sort of catastrophe! But... there it was... And there were Shem and Joesh, falling over themselves with laughter at their parents' attempt at seriously stern faces, and at Josiane's sharp recoil and squeal of shock as she reached for the sideways, stem-and-leaf shaped 'lid handle' of the hinged, apple-shaped bowl... - ~ ● ~ - The thing really was both a ridiculous monstrosity, and a beautiful work of art, Cal thought. Her gaze and fingers brushed quickly over the cool, polished wood and the most random, lifelike carvings on the basin lid - an assortment of tiny, puckered 'bug stings'; the spider and strings of web spread across the leaf part of the handle that had made Josi jump. And of course, the 'stem' - which on closer inspection was, very unmistakably the top half of an unreasonably large, half-emerged codling worm - complete with lifelike, ravenous pincers at the end of its overly lifelike, ugly head. Unceremoniously, Cal grabbed the absurd stick-bug, and swung the top half of the apple open over the hinge, thinking that perhaps the boys had missed twin callings as master carvers when they followed herself and Kaylan to Tar Valon, and into the life of Warders and Aes Sedai... She bent her head, cupping her hands - and splashed a shock of cold water onto her face. ...Or, perhaps - as the 'boys' had never missed a chance to tease her - perhaps such thoughts just proved she was getting old and emotionally senile, despite her 'ageless' 'Aes Sedai skin'. Grinning at the thought, she pulled a silly face at her reflection in the looking glass above the basin and thanked the Light that brothers and Warders existed to keep Aes Sedai so .. sane and humble? Yes, the life of an Aes Sedai was hard. And yes, she would leave her once-home here, again, today - knowing her duty was to that Aes Sedai life, and presently, to hunting down the Seal in the South before the growing Shadow. That could not, however, be all there was to life these days, however. Despite the dire situations they were facing, Cal had found that since her bonding with Elessar, she had actually been feeling much more 'free' to remember and reconnect with the good times in life. And she was genuinely happy in his company. Yes difficult as Aes Sedai life could be, it was becoming increasingly clear to her once more now that she was bonded to her gaidin, that continuing to allow at least a small level of connection with humanity where possible was actually, in some ways, was absolutely still beneficial. Beneficial, yes. Worth it? That remained to be seen. But she was starting, again, to believe so. Last night's 'pitching in' had been another example of this re-learning, for her. Despite the lack of sleep and the long hours of 'work' she had thoroughly enjoyed pitching in and helping Amelie with the busy night. Even Elessar's startled response to her cheeky wink would have been enough to make her night. It had certainly been a far cry from the pressure and satisfaction of beating back a hoard of myrddraal and beastly trollocs, darkfriends and/or other shadowspawn - but it really had been good to get her hands 'dirty', and to 'bounce back' a moment to her younger, more carefree days. When she didn't know that the Dark One was, very, very surely, bit-by-bit actively breaking out of his bonds and threatening to bring the Last Battle upon them at any moment. ● She shook her head again to clear it. In any case. This trip 'home' had done her wonders - Even with the lack of sleep, she felt re-energised and ready to continue the journey South. In fact, she was already packed. And she would not be alone, tracking and fighting whatever Shadows they found in the South. As the buzz of the bond reminded her constantly, Elessar would be by her side. So. They would be leaving in the next few hours, just after breaking bread 'early' with the Luins, and giving thanks to the midday sun. Cal was glad that this trip had landed on this 'longest' day, making it at least slightly easier to juggle the need for rest and connection, and the need for speed in getting to the South. No. She was most definitely not about to wallow around on a Sunday. Age was just a number, and Sundays were made for better kinds of loopy than that! There was enough time left still to enjoy these once-familiar and much-changed surrounds, to honour the lighter side of Life before Elessar and herself marched on against the gathering dark. There was day and Light enough left in this world today for it to make a difference -. And Calia Sedai, now re-bonded, this time to a Gaidin who understood both sides of the battles she frequently fought; once one of five kids who had lived at this inn in the years gone by, intended to refresh the roots closest to her heart, and to make the most of it all! .\ ● ~ ● ~ ~ ● ~ ~● ~ ● /. ''| /< > '/< ~ ~ ~ ' ●====● ~ ~ ~ Cal had grinned, a flush of elation and well-being flooding her, and probably the bond, when she'd realised she really would tell Elessar as much as he wanted to know about this place and her memories in it - without hesitation, when she'd invited him to accompany her through the orchard. It wasn't just that, knowing his interest in stories, history and the poetic aspects of life, the Sedai hoped her gaidin warrior-poet would appreciate the things she could share with him here. It was that, as when she'd first felt that deeper sense and connection with this man through the bond - the oneness of their their determination, drive and sense of duty and respect for life - her heart had swelled, yet again, at this newest example of how this 'new' bond actually, truly, really 'felt right' in her heart. And for a while now, she had been feeling quite 'settled' in the bond, despite herself, and very happy to share! Besides Kaylan, who'd been born next door and practically grew up with Calia and her family at the inn, Aaran had been the only 'non-Luin' person she had ever felt close enough to to even consider having them know the stories of her home, the inn, these trees and this orchard. For such a long time, the only thing that the rest of her life had seemed any good for was her strength in the One Power, and her ability to fight the Shadow. That, at least, she had never let slide. But, After Aaran had passed, Cal had been so sure she would never invite anyone into these grounds, never share those close-to-heart stories again. Yet, here she was. And here was Elessar. And inviting him here had been easy; especially with the feast-day tied in - it really was the perfect day to honour their bond, along with the strength of Summer, and the Light that each of them had chosen to serve. Yes, it felt easy, and very much like the right thing to do. Even before she'd extended the invitation for the walk through the orchard with a smile, her mind had immediately skipped ahead to the happy, driven drum of her heart - and to the two most 'special trees'' , and before she even knew it, without even the slightest of hesitation, she'd specifically invited him to visit the two of those also. 7/<> ~~~ ● ~~~ For Calia, there was nothing quite like this end of the apple orchard. It had been planted on the far Southern edge of Four Kings, running almost all the way to the present-day boundary line of the large Luin property, far before her time. She was glad to have found a moment to walk once again under the ancient branches here, to simply enjoy the peaceful moments of the morning there, listening to the leaves rustling in the breeze and taking in the the sweet, tart, earthy smells of soil and ripening apples. Not for the first time, Calia thanked the Light beyond measure that she had been fortunate enough to be born into this property in Four Kings, and not one of the much, much, much smaller plots of 'land' that crowded at the crossroads, with absolutely nowhere else to escape to but the chaos of the dusty streets. From her infancy to her early teen years, this particular stretch, with the oldest groves apple groves on the property, had always been her personal refuge, and her favourite place in all of Four Kings. The trees closer to the inn had been here only since the the Luin family built the inn, and even that was some good number of generations before Calia ever came along. But these trees? Cal looked up at the lighter and lighter sky through the gently flittering leaves. She breathed in the scents again and smiled. These trees, were different. Cal had relished telling Elessar during their wanderings together, that these beauties were definitely far, far older than she was. And that to her, they had always been as full of delicious adventures and memories as they had been of apples! As beautiful and as close to the Shining City of Caemlyn as it was, and given the stone remnants her family had found in various fields over the years. Cal and the girls had always rather liked imagining that Ogier might have had a hand in the building of this place. She'd never found the time to investigate or ask someone in the know for 'real' truth however. Regardless whether or not the ancient Atlantin had been involved in tending the trees, this place always was, and always would be almost magical to her, and her favourite place in all of Four Kings. How could it not be? Even as a child, it was the place in Four Kings that, no matter what else had happened in her life, no matter how ridiculous the town got, or who she'd found herself at odds with, had always been there, with wide open boughs, to help her center herself in the moments she was not battling, and to bring her inner peace. Not to mention that so, so many 'core' moments from hers and her siblings' infancy (puns intended) and early childhoods had happened here.. [Who ever would have guessed at that age that the twins lied, and that the BIGGEST secret to becoming the fastest runner in the world actually had nothing at all to do with being sure to eat as many apples as possible in their entirety - dirt, skins, cores, stems/sticks/leaves, worms and all? (Especially the worms, if one should one be lucky enough to find any!) ? She never had flown like the wind. But she had blown many, many chunks of partly digested apple into it as a result. How many belly aches had she suffered through and from before her parents caught them out? ] And there were many moments from later years also, when symbols and initials for secret pacts and hearts' desires were carved through the bark - as much as they wormed their way through her young, hormonal heart. [Light knew that in most cases, many of those secret markings that had been made into various trunks and branches had lasted far longer there than in her recollections of their location and meaning!] But still, there were some strong exceptions to the forgotten carvings, and many memories that soothed her heart rather than made her feel sick in the belly. for those reasons and a thousand more, she loved this place, and always would, no matter how long she lived. <>\'''' <>/.< ~ ~ ●======● ~ ~ The last time she had visited the orchard had been decades ago. She savoured and tried to treasure every minute. Touching a trunk here or there, trying to keep her feelings as light and bright as the Summers day that rose around them. Cal made sure to treasure every minute she ever got to spend in, under or close to these trees and branches. And, she had found she was easily enjoying her time there with Elessar too. The first of the two 'specials' she'd promised him was the 'Family Tree' - the largest and oldest of the Big Reds, where the name and/or hand of every child and life partner of a Luins in the area had been making its mark, recorded in living history, as it were - even generations and generations before her own. It was obvious to see the length of the history there - the tree must've been well over 200, maybe 300 or even more, years old. Many, many generations of names had been marked into the wood of the trunk, or cut into stones the size of closed fists and piled and gathered around the trunk instead. Cal had been brought here often, from a young age to learn the family history and traditions as well as the science and 'poetry' behind it all: Firstly, how this tree had probably originally been chosen because of its size, and colour of the fruit - Red for love. Red for Family - and because, after all, reds, like love, tended to make the sweetest fruit as they grew. How 'stress' applied to the tree's trunk and sometimes branches, usually improved the growth of fruit and the strength of fruit bearing trees themselves. How the marked stones were sometimes used as a handy alternative to beat at trunks and encourage a flourish of growth. Sometimes the stones were even used by loved ones long after the original owners were gone, honouring the memories and the sense that, even departed, love, and memories of love could still be kept somehow relevant to the sweetness of the present, and bear fruit in times to come. Tradition had it right, she had learned - as long as one took care not to cut all the way down to the heart of the tree, and to not allow infection to set in through contamination, the tree would survive. And, in fact, the trees that withstood the frequent beatings without succumbing to either of the above tended to bear the most - and the largest and the sweetest fruit as they aged. She smiled at that thought as she always did, thinking yet again that much the same could be said of certain people she knew, her 'new' gaidin included! <>\'''' <>/.< ~ ~ ●= =● ~ ~ Finally, they reached the rows with the best of the Green apple varieties! Cal stopped, with a wide smile, when she found the particular tree she had been looking for. This was the one she had felt so entirely compelled to share with Elessar, as soon as she'd known she would be bringing him 'home' to Four Kings. For an apple tree, it was still particularly broad, and tall, and strong. And it's branches still seemed to produce enough fruit to fill a large amount of barrels. She wondered out loud, not for the first time, if her immediate family members might have often 'stressed' this tree in the long absences of those who had actually carved their names upon it, in the not-so-silent hopes that helping this tree grow strong through stretches of stress would also, somehow, help the others while they were away, doing their best to survive stress and beatings of their own. Calia looked upon it with a sort of proud little smile. Kaylan and herself had searched every row of trees in the hopes of finding one that the thought would grow just like this. She had not seen it for over two decades - but it was still beautiful, thriving, smelt delightful, and was perfect for its purpose. For a moment, she simply looked, remembering. And then, unable to wait any longer, she plucked a rather large apple from a low hanging bough, checked it for bug marks and admired the bright, ripe green skin that covered most of the fruit, as well as the 'Light-kissed' brighter patches that tended to form along the top - or anywhere else the balance of Sun and Shadow played out in favour of the Light. Just the way she liked it. She shared her joy and these finds with Elessar, pointing out the colours and the reasons for her - and Kaylan's choice - was there any other colour that would have been so suitable for two Accepteds, both aspiring to serve the Light as Sisters of the Green Ajah? Of course Cal thought, it helped that, at least in her mind, the strong, crisp texture and flavours of Green apples tended to match her view of The Greens also - much more than any red or yellow varieties she'd ever tried. And these ones were no exception - in fact, she was quite certain they were the very best she'd ever found! Laughing about this, and insisting that she was eager to hear his thoughts, Cal offered the now polished, shiny green apple out to Elessar so her Green gaidin could take a bite and see for himself - or to take his own selection from any he fancied on the tree. And then ... ~:~ "I'm not usually one to stand on ceremony," she began with a smile. "And, I haven't done this for decades... But... " Calia fished deep into a concealed side-pocket on her pants and retrieved a small wooden box. Inside was a small, robust rock chisel - at least as old as herself and always many-many times more sharp. With Joem's permission, she had sought this out and borrowed it from the mantle almost as soon as she'd arrived, this moment in mind. She held it out, offering that to her stoic Green Warder as well. And then she followed through with the smooth rock she'd also been carrying all this time. "But, since it is Sunday, and you are here... " "Would you, Elessar Gaidin, do this family the honour of adding your name, and at some of your strength, to this tree?" She found herself studying his face intently, wondering what was going through his mind. The bond only told a holder and the bonded so much. Like whether the other was still awake or still asleep in the early morning after a night of being awake; or if they were already up and training with the wind in the leaves and morning Sun, or, like she had been today, walking about the yards of the inn, alehouse, brewery and orchard in with the soft breeze and early morning light. She might not have been able to read his thoughts, exactly, but she did know she was glad she had bonded this particular man, this particular Warder of hers who had, it seemed, a penchant for serving Light and Life with the Greens for all the best reasons, and that, despite the risks that had been raised by setting herself in, she felt stronger, and safer with him by her side. She was glad, and proud, to have him serving the Light by her side. And she was actually glad to finally, after so, so long, trust another gaidin like this - and to know that was the case, no matter what lay ahead. And she was glad, that on this Sunday, there was such an appropriate way to honour the Light in her life, and the enduring strength represented by the one-ness and the bond they shared, and she was glad to invite him to have his name etched, forever more on her most enduring, favourite 'Green' - where it could stand, proud through beatings and storms, growing stronger with the Light, adding a certain, punchy sweetness to life, representing their shared choices and purpose, their strength and resolutions. Their 'one-ness'. Alongside her own name and those of her brothers', Kaylan's and Aaran's - The names of her chosen, those very, very few in her Ajah who had ever made the cut this close to the core of her heart. Elessar's name, she knew, belonged there too. In some ways, she trusted Elessar more with the bond than any other Warder she had ever had. Her brothers and Aaran included. And, as she offered her gaidin the necessary tools to accomplish the task she was glad, to know that was the case, and glad to offer him the space. <>\'''' <>/.< ~ ~ ●======● ~ ~

"And HURRAH -!" several voices shouted in unison as the gleeman finished his tale of Maragaine's stand. "- HURRAH FOR ANDOR AND FOR THE LIGHT!" thundered back every Andoran in the common room, raising clenched fists to the sky and banging tankards on the table. Calia's voice was just one of the many loud and proud among them. "Here! Careful, lass -!" the man at her elbow leaned away, shooting her a horrified look as she shouted and shifted her full tray of apple-ales into one hand, pumping the other towards the sky along with the rest of the room. "- You'll be spilling the drinks..." he finished, eyes widening in surprise as she managed to keep a deft grip beneath the tray, balancing it with apparent ease despite the awkward angle and the exuberant action. Calia let her laughter join the chorus of cheers that followed the Andoran chant and then turned her blue eyes to the man in question. "And cheat my good lord of the cost of a full mug?" she grinned mischievously, swinging a drink from the tray and slipping it into place in front of him without spilling a drop, "Not I!" "Well then!" the merchant looked her up and down, rubbing his beard and noting her hand on her hip with a chuckle. "True enough that there's no such thing as cheatin' on a Sun-day!" he said, sliding a silver coin in her direction and taking the mug with a smile. Calia's free hand captured the coin and dropped it into the front pocket of her apron as easily as if she really had continued serving at the Queen's Stand all these long years. "Not on my watch, at least!" she quipped, melting back into the throng with an answering smile as soon as he began to grin. Amelie and Joem had forewarned that it would be a busy, and likely understaffed night. And they had certainly not been wrong. The buzz of energy filling the common room was everything Calia remembered it to be on nights such as this, right down to the sound of clinking mugs, hearty laughter and the accompanying bright notes of the gleeman's flute - and more. She wove her way through the clusters of customers serving food and drinks in turn, moving from table to table with purposeful steps that seemed almost choreographed into a dance. If she had surprised herself with just how easily she'd slipped back into the role of lively serving girl, she didn't let it show in the slightest on her face. She moved from table to table, her tray full of frothy mugs of ale or steaming plates of food, her steps light and deliberate, avoiding stumbling patrons with ease. And when she passed Elessar, it made her chuckle inside to give him a cheeky wink, like she'd seen so many a serving girl do before her, in every inn they'd frequented thus far. ● As the night wore on and the apple-ale flowed freely, the patrons of the Queen's Stand grew more joyful and boisterous, more prepared to take advantage of the holiday than perhaps they had originally feared with all the world's strangest and stranger goings on. Calia stepped outside towards the alehouse and garden to find the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced apple ale and the sounds of raucous laughter, music, dancing and the clinking of tankards. A trio of minstrels played a lively tune near the bonfire, their melodies coaxing feet to tap and bodies to dance. In the alehouse, as in the Common-Room, the wooden roof-beams were strung with garlands and other greenery, in tribute to the power of the Light and the sun. The bonfire burned bright and fierce near the center of the yard, flames dancing ever-higher into the night sky as it defied the darkness and kept watch for the Light. Children darted here and there between adults, their laughter ringing out as they played game after game in the firelight, the sounds of mirth mixing with the crackling of the fire and hum of conversations. Townsfolk and travelling merchants mingled on the lawn, sharing stories and toasting the shortest night of the year. Night deepened and yet the bonfire's glow seemed to grow, pulsing with the rhythm of the music, challenging the shadows and casting light into their world. "Oi, Lass!" a burly merchant with a twinkle in his eye and a flush of deep red rose across his cheeks called to Calia as she passed, "Put those trays down! A pretty thing like you should be dancing around the fire and under the stars on a night like this!" "Leaving you lot to pour your own drinks?" Calia quipped with a grin as she set a plate of food in front of him. "I think not - someone has to make sure everyone here gets just what they deserve!" The other patrons at the table guffawed at the rebuff, one of them taking the opportunity and liberty to reach out and hook his arm around Calia's waist. "What if I deserve a dance?" he slurred. Cal tilted her head mischievously and twirled as if dancing dramatically on stage, the movement unraveling her self and skirts from his reach. "Well, if that was the case, I'd think you'd have to promise not to let my friend Elessar, over there", she followed the sense of the bond, nodding her head in the direction of her watching Warder, "catch you trying to whisk me away!" she grinned as the man blanched at the mere sight of her gaidin, and she sent her merriment and mirth at his expression along the bond for Elessar's enjoyment. ● Light began to break across the sky in the East. Calia smiled, feeling tired but strangely fulfilled and invigorated by the full night's service. She wondered what Elessar had made of the evening, and of Sun-day eve in this small town. She caught Joem and Amelie's eye as they poured last drinks for customers and prepared to coordinate the setup of festivities for the day ahead. As dawn crept across the lawns, they smiled at her timidly, thankfully, and returned to their work. Calia smiled back with genuine pleasure. It gave her a certain thrill to see her grand-nephew and his wife begin to carry on the traditions they had expanded in the family yard and home for her favourite holdiay. Truth be told, though Calia had passed many Sun-days, in many countries, over many years, she had never really quite figured out which part of the holiday she she preferred - the all-night reveling that defied the darkness until dawn, the peace and rest that followed as Light brightened and blessed the day with the coming of the Sun, or the way that entire towns simply celebrated the strength and joy in Light and made the most of every moment of the longest day of the year from it's zenith hour until sunset. Bit by bit, daytime slowly took hold of the world and the flames of the bonfire dwindled. Calia found Elessar at her side, and together they took a moment to Thank the Light for everything that existed, as tradition detailed, before the bonfire was extinguished. As Cal turned her face to the breaking dawn and softly-spreading warmth of the Light of the sun along with the rest of those gathered, she breathed in the crisp early morning air and smiled at her Warder and the descendants of her sister. Her heart swelled with gratitude for this place, these people, and what seemed to be the simple, enduring joy of Sunday Eve and the true heart of the Light in her old home town, despite the dusty and dour exterior the place showed to the world. Now, Cal knew, everyone would rest. And in a few hours, when the Sun climbed to its' highest point, each of them would return to honour the turning of the Wheel, and to bask in the strength of the Light once more. ●

The beard. The bushy brows and bright, merry eyes. The sand-coloured hair peeking out from under his hat. Joem, Cal reminded herself, forcefully, even as her heart jumped at the sight of him and her breath caught in her throat - again. She'd calculated the logic then and there, at the market in Caemlyn: seeing that distinctive cart with ale barrels on the back just so - wall to wall and rim to rim, lashed together and tied around the rails the exact way her father had always insisted. The wisps of sand-coloured hair peeking out from under the bottom of a well-worn hat. The man's face as he turned his head to check the large, stately black carriage thundering his way. And she'd replayed the glimpse of that face over and over in her mind many times since the market, knowing it was not the face she'd almost thought she'd seen, despite the shock of his distinctive features. And yet, even prepared - knowing it was not her Da, she was still a little shocked - the resemblance was ... uncanny. At least, this time, the pang of loss and yearning that followed the shock was a little less. "Joem," she smiled brightly at him as he took in the sight of herself and her Warder at the door. His eyebrows rose in quick recognition. "Great-Grand-Aunt Calia-Sedai?" he said the words with the same awe-struck arrangement of syllables he'd applied to her when he was barely five years old, making Cal smile even wider. His voice was a rumble of deep bass now, as her father's and her brothers' voices had been. Had it really been that close to thirty years since she'd seen him last? Since her littlest sister Thayet had passed? The sound of footsteps passing in the corridor behind Joem stopped abruptly at his words. In the same instant, a look of - concern? - washed over his face. * * * The footsteps rushed in their direction, a dramatic drumming on the wooden floor. Cal took a step back even as Elessar stepped forward, bringing the two of them into a balanced line. A woman appeared at Joem's side, clutching his arm as if for support even as she attempted a curtsy with skirts that were not yet settled. Her blue eyes scanned past the Warder and Sedai, and then her gaze returned, full of trepidation, to meet Calia's own, before glancing back at Joem. "Thayett?" she asked him earnestly. "No, love." Joem patted her hand and looked back to Calia. The woman took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Joem did the same. "Please, Aunt Calia-Sedai," Joem opened the door all the way, "Come in - and be welcome. You're just in time for a pre-service munch." He extended a hand towards Elessar. "And you too, Warder - Welcome and happy Sun-day Eve!" * * * Sun-day! She'd always loved that celebration. And the night before, even if the shortest night of the year had always been one of the busiest at the inn. Or perhaps because it had always been busy at the inn! Alone in her room after their early supper, Calia smiled and swept her hair back into a no-fuss bun and wrapped it with a scarf. Memories of her childhood Sun-days and the easy afternoon with Joem and his wife Amelie snuck amongst the angst of her and Elessar's mission and the possibility of betrayal within the Tower, and reminded her of the Light in the world. She'd learned much that afternoon about the goings-on in Four Kings since her last visit. And the cause of Joem and Amelie's concern at her arrival - which had turned out to be the biggest surprise yet - she had a great-great-grandniece who could channel! And the girl - Thayetta - the couple's only child - had been sent to the Tower for training just this year. Calia shook her head again in wonder. She'd been shown a portrait of Thayetta - who indeed looked a lot like she imagined Thayet would have at the age of fourteen... Cal couldn't say how close the resemblance actually was with much certainty though - much knowledge of her sister's lives had been lost to her, swapped for years and years of learning just what it meant to be, and how to become, a 'servant of all' in the Tower. As she'd told Elessar quietly after they'd retreated to their rooms, in her memories, Thay's actual image jumped straight from a sobbing ten-year old on the day she had left for Tar Valon to a competent young assistant inn-keeper surprised by the arrival of her long-lost siblings on the eve of her twentieth name day. And Calia's time in training had been relatively short! But as much as she loved and had missed her little sisters terribly, especially on name-days and when their giggles and chattering, or light snores were absent in quiet moments before sleep, by the year Thayet had been turning fourteen, almost-Accepted Calia had already suffered enough switching, chores and shame to last an entire Aes Sedai lifetime. And she knew very well that there was never an acceptable excuse or lack of punishment for a Novice caught leaving (or even caught talking about leaving) the Tower grounds. Not even for a quick trip to the City itself. Not even to celebrate sibling name days with them, as dictated by tradition... "Even that was enough for a lesson very well learnt!" she'd recounted. "Certainly enough that any thoughts of visiting home before being raised were completely and utterly whipped right out of existence from there on in!" A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as her hands recalled the repetitive sting of soapy scrubbing-water in split knuckles and her buttocks recalled the white-hot pain of swift switchings across unhealed welts. "But still," her voice became a quietly mischievous murmur, and disappeared into the lingering smile. She had been of a mind to leave the stories and explanations there for the time being, but catching Elessar's expression at her unexpected smile had made the beginning of her grin an even wider mixture of defiance and sheepishness. A similar grin crept over her face again as she continued getting ready, enjoying the newest link to that old, cherished memory. She didn't know if Elessar would ever question such a mix of her feelings aloud, but she'd been happy to elaborate in any case - clearly Elessar was getting under her thick Aes Sedai skin if she was willing to simply let him in on one of her most tight-lipped secrets! "So, I may have learned better than to try and ever visit my family or sisters here before being properly raised," she'd said. "And Light, I'd never, ever tell the Mistress of Novices this, but I might never have completely regretted the reason I knew that so well - regardless of the punishments she piled on me! I swear, sneaking into the city to find an inn with Kaylan and the twins on our first free day after their arrival will be worth it until the day I die!" Even now, standing alone in her old bedroom, thinking of the many moments lost and the many years that had passed, she cherished those borrowed-with-interest hours of freedom that had been stolen and spent so joyously as a wayward Novice in the heart of the old White Flame. And now there was a new Novice in the family. A fire had kindled in Calia's heart at the sight of the portrait and the stories Joem and Amelie had told them of Thayetta. Despite her habit of maintaining appropriate Aes Sedai distance from kin and emotions for the last three decades, and despite not knowing the girl, nor exactly how similar the features of her younger great-great-grandmother were to the face in the picture. "Here," Calia had thought, was yet another reason why Elessar and herself had to succeed on their mission, and another reason why another vileness could not be allowed... Tonight though, she'd decided to serve the Light a little differently and to focus on another job whilst Elessar hopefully relaxed and enjoyed the night's entertainment - simply because she could. She would serve, as always. But for at least some of the night, she'd be helping out more as a serving-woman again than an Aes Sedai and servant-of-all. Amelie had been half bemused-half horrified at the idea, but Calia had refused all alternative suggestions. Truth be told, she was looking forward to the distraction of the long-ago-familiar change. She grinned again, checking her reflection quickly in the looking glass she passed out into the hall to wait for her bonded. She looked appreciatively at the tidy hall as she quietly closed her door and set her wards. The family had done well with the inn and the stipends she sent them via select eyes and ears since Thayet's death. And in turn, Joem and Amelie had done the same, it seemed. With quietly-bubbling happiness, Calia had noted that of all the establishments in the town, this one still remained the cleanest both inside and out. To boot, the orchard-garden was still bearing a good amount of fruit, and there was even an entirely separate alehouse off to the side of the yard. And despite the lack of patronage at the hour Calia and Elessar had arrived, sounds of chatter now buzzed up the stairs from the common room and cheers and clinking tankards seemed determined to crowd their way through the shuttered window. She knew just by the cadence and volume of voices that the Queen would stand full tonight. Obviously, even despite the twist of Shadows stirring in the world at present, patrons were still eager to celebrate the longest day of the year. It was enough to keep anyone hopeful, and any family member proud. And, Cal found, she she was hopeful, and proud, despite the time that had passed and the distance that existed between her old life and the one she had chosen to lead. And she was glad to be sharing these new-old experiences with Elessar, linked as they were. She hoped he would enjoy himself during their stay. And in the same instant, she realised that, as stoic and as used to Aes Sedai life as she had become with age, and as much as she had never thought she would bring another Warder into this house, or her heart, it was ... a welcome comfort... to still find oneself connected in the spaces where connections belonged, but had become stretched thin, and thinner still, by time. She hadn't been in the hall for but a second before her gaidin exited the room adjacent to hers. She smiled warmly at him. "Nice of you to join me, Warder-mine!" her grin was teasing as she turned with him towards the stairs. They walked as one though, the sincerity of her words flooding through the bond with feelings of gratitude and the hope for Life!

Who? Who? Who? Who? An hour into the morning's trip toward Four Kings, the question still reverberated endlessly through Calia's brain in time with the bay mare's hoofbeats on the dusty road. Who? Who? Who? Who? Clop Clop Clop Clop... Who? Who? Who? Who? She stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, seeing little other than the images her mind's eye conjured for her on repeat - the assassin, the moment he'd spat confirmation of his allegiance to the Shadow and the related order for their deaths, and how she'd last seen him early this morning: being carried from his watch-house cell, very much dead, dried froth still coating his lips. That outcome was perhaps not entirely unexpected, but for the moment, not even the scenery changes that indicated her hometown was drawing nigh could compete with that. Who? Who? Who? Who? The hoofbeat question continued. And a quiet, devastated undertone continued to supply at least part of the answer: The Black. The Black. The Black. The Black. ● "I think you were right about the betrayal," with a heavy heart, the Sedai voiced her thoughts to her Gaidin. "I cannot believe it would be Liss, though, Elessar. Truly, I cannot," She sighed, wondering on his opinion. "But on the other hand, it has to be someone from inside the Tower," she looked to her Warder, her bright blue eyes both hard as ice, for all they shimmered momentarily like they were at risk of a sudden melt. "It's unthinkable that something like the Vileness might be happening again - and yet here we are. And for once," she looked at the gaidin, I'm at a loss on what to do." Full honesty, she thought, is hopefully the best policy here. She didn't want to overburden him with her troubles, but he was her partner in this - he would have been feeling her conflict and be aware in some sense of her struggles - and he deserved the truth, deserved to know what exactly they might be in for since they were heading in that direction together. She looked at her gaidin, feeling the flow of connection and emotion through the bond. "Elessar - it could be you and me alone on this, against the world! "I don't think we can warn, or trust, those at the Tower with any of our updates now, until our quest here is absolutely done... do you?" ● To the side of the highway far ahead, a clump of tall, wide shadows caught Calia's eye and she couldn't help but grin. There may have been much less traffic on the route to Four Kings than she had remembered or expected, but some things thankfully had remained the same. She chuckled softly at the memories. "Elessar Gaidin, my dear bonded," she began playfully, carefully considering the lack of traffic and the high level of her warder's horsemanship skills. She let the mood take her as her voice drowned out the ever-questioning sound of hooves. Suddenly she found the smothering of some of the dark dread and despair clinging to her ever fiber that much easier. She grinned. "I propose it is high time we all really stretch our legs! What if you and Stormbreaker beat me to the Chestnuts? If you do, you can have as many as you like, and I'll tell you the story of their great revenge!" she called, spurring her brown mare into action with a laugh and racing away down the road, smiling in her confidence that Elessar and Stormbreaker would be up for the run and challenge! A delighted chuckle whipped away from her on the last of the wind of the race - and Cal leant over the bay's neck and urged her to catch up. She didn't really expect they would be able to overtake the warhorse at this point. But that didn't mean they wouldn't try! ● Some time later, with a handful of chestnuts in her lap, Calia laughed and conceded she would tell her Warder the story of the chestnuts' revenge. The clump of trees, she explained, were almost as old as her - the result of an obnoxious, overly handsy, pushy Chestnut merchant throwing his last two bags from the wagon in rage after discovering they'd been topped up with sheep droppings - the Twin's idea of 'fair punishment' for the way the man had behaved and the insults he had flung when he was caught backing Calia and Kaylan into a corner against their will. The fact that the trees were still standing, so long after the man would have passed on gave her heart, since they were both proof of the power of protection and that good things could spring up anywhere, even from the middle of a pile of dung! ● Despite how quiet the road had been, Four Kings was upon them in a clatter of wagon wheels and a collection of inns, residences, patrons and shouts that were both familiar and entirely different to the town Calia remembered from a century ago. It was to be expected, she knew. But still, some of the changes were like a knife to her heart. Including the lack of merchant wagons that lined the picket rail outside her family inn. With Elessar by her side, she tied the bay's reigns to the rail of the 'Queen's Stand' and started up the side path to the family-only door. She rapped the brass knocker, one-two-three times. And then the man from market, the living image of her long-dead father, opened the door.

Welcome Emma!

Eb suppressed her scowl and the desire to spit sideways at Dovinhald's mention of 'quiet run'. She'd thought the man might have seen some military service in his time, but perhaps she'd been mistaken. Things hadn't changed so much that such talk wouldn't tempt Jak o' the Shadows to make things 'fun'... had they? Still. Food, lodgings and four additional Andoran Silvers per day with the potential for extra as a bonus... and Dovinhald would be staying at the Riposte, so easy to contact... and keep an eye on prior to departure. It was an easy decision. Until the mention of riding a horse. Of course there would be bloody flaming horses - "I'm in." " -The wagons will be good enough for me-." -Bloody, blasted, flaming, stinking horses - Despite the solid satisfaction she felt at hearing Kai finally put himself on a list for a run, another scowl threatened to escape the confines of Eb's practiced smothering. She gritted her teeth together. Leveled her dark gaze directly at the Taraboner's own dark eyes. "Done - for Four Andoran-weight Silvers a day. Extra at the end. Food on the road." She paused. -Bloody, blasted, flaming, stinking, ash-flinging horses. Bloody wagons. Her teeth ground together. "-I'll ride either option if I bloody have to. But Light knows I'm much better on my own two feet."