Moiraine

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05/29/06--20:54: Article 24 (chan 1276962)

She has been studying too long again this evening, trying to figure out how best to approach a number of matters. Tired beyond measure, Moiraine presses her hands to her eyes for a few minutes, attempting to summon strength enough to continue, just for a little longer.

Just for a little while longer.

When she opens her eyes again, she gasps in shock at finding herself in the small room. The door slides shut as she turns toward it, and the steel prison shivers as the elevator begins to descend.

"Going down," the voice says, and she whirls to face him. Dale Cooper smiles cheerfully at her from where he leans against the wall, hands in his pockets. His eyes are the flat jet of stone, with no pupil or white to be seen-- a demon's eyes.

She tries to speak to him, but can't. Horror chokes her.

"I know you're scared," he continues cheerfully, as the elevator falls faster and faster. "You should be. Everything's breaking. That's why they call it the End of the World."

The lights flicker off and on, on and off, and then there is a shuddering crash as the elevator hits ground.

"Last stop. You're home. Everybody out."

Moiraine shoves the steel barrier out of the way and stumbles through the opening.

The White Tower stands before her, the shining walls gleaming defiance by the light of the crazed flashes of lightning that rip across the reddened sky. She staggers and goes to her knees as the earth heaves beneath her feet, shock after shock sending the ground rolling like sea-waves.

"Light, no! It cannot be!" she cries, and is answered by a deep grave voice.

"It can," Merriman says. He stands across the courtyard, arms folded and the deep blue of his robes whipping around him in the wind as he looks impassively at her. "You have failed, Moiraine." Blackthorn branches tear in a mass from the seething earth at his feet and wrap themselves around him, sealing him inside the bole of a tree before catching fire. Avendoraldera, the only sapling of the Tree of Life, burns before her eyes, and she flinches back with a cry.

Her cry is answered by a scream from above, and her head jerks up to the sky, where a black-feathered Raven dances with the storm's gusts, dodging bolt after bolt of power. Madness is in that shriek, laughing madness which is echoed by that coming from the man now standing on Tar Valon's wall.

Red-haired and laughing wildly, Rand al'Thor screams as he calls down the lightning, screams as he shatters the earth, and the deep rolling laughter of a larger red-haired man standing behind the Dragon Reborn rumbles like thunder as Destruction witnesses it all.

In the wake of that laughter, the ringing of a brazen bell shivers the air itself into molten fire as the White Tower splits in two.

"NO!" The agonized scream is torn from her as Moiraine opens herself to saidar-- and in the sudden stillness the click of the silver collar settling around her throat is very loud. Everything freezes within her as the a'dam locks into place, binding her will and her ability to channel, enslaving her to another's control.

Holding the leash in his hand, Dale Cooper smiles down at her.

"I have to close the door."


06/04/06--21:10: Article 23 (chan 1276962)

It has been two weeks since Dream had left her standing on a beach made of diamonds and stars, by an ocean of tears. In that time, she has seen him once, and spoken to him not at all.

She is walking outside, this morning. Faith and Max's wedding is to be on Antar today, and she and Dream were to have attended.

Although there is time yet, her own temper is not the best, now. And so she walks -- a discreet distance from the lake, in order to not attract ed'Rashtekaresket's attention -- and muses upon things, and attempts to figure an approach to what is quickly becoming an untenable situation.


06/20/06--22:06: Article 22 (chan 1276962)

She had returned first from Quinn's world to the bar, and then later that night to the Dreaming.

Moiraine had not expected that he would seek her in public, not in light of this. And so, instead she glides through the hallways toward the upper reaches of the castle and the balcony there.

She does not know for certain where he is; she can no longer tell, not without the Warder's bond. It is merely a guess, based on what she knows of his habits.


08/15/06--14:47: Article 21 (chan 1276962)

Two of the benefits to a warded study are its seclusion and its security. It has become her habit to take advantage of both on as near to a daily basis as she can manage.

This afternoon is no exception, and Moiraine is sitting at her desk, comparing the writings of Dylan Thomas to that of Tennyson.


10/14/06--22:52: Article 20 (chan 1276962)

As she crossed through the gateway from Milliways into her own world, for a single impossible moment everything had seemed to shift, stretching and coiling and folding around her in a sickeningly familiar fashion--

(the Tower this is the Tower I am in the Tower of Ghenjei)

(...but the Tower is destroyed...?)

--and then she found herself through, and the portal closed, and the moment now past.

Still dizzy from the violence of the transition, the Aes Sedai had nevertheless wasted not an instant before opening herself to saidar once again, seeking any hint of residue that might be left in this dusty, unused room from when she had departed from here to Milliways, months before as time is reckoned in the bar. I must know how long it has been, else this whole venture may be worse than a trap.

What she had found shocked her all over again. A day, or a little more, Moiraine had thought, stunned. No more than that. The distance between here and the bar continues to widen. I must be careful.

Quickly, she had unwoven all traces of her passing, destroying the telltale residues, and then "Syrenne" had left the room and hurried back to the servants' corridor.


---


All of this had been two days ago-- or she thinks it has been two days, at any rate. It is hard for her to tell, now; the dizziness of the crossing has not faded, this time, but continues instead to worsen. Time itself seems to stretch and slip around her, fading in and out as though she herself is but a ghost moving through a world that does not know her.

How can one hope to preserve time when it is endlessly slipping away? The whisper in her mind is spoken in Rand's voice, although they are not Rand's words -- it had been Lews Therin who had given her that warning, words of a madman spoken as advice to a woman who had not then felt as if she were going mad herself.

Still, that she remembers, that had happened--

--hadn't it?

In despair, she closes her eyes and covers them with her hands, trying to clear her mind, trying to focus on what she knows is true.

(so many paths I saw in Rhuidean - have I lost my way?)

"I am in (the Tower of Ghenjei) Caemlyn, in the palace," she murmurs, almost desperately. "Although I never imagined it, still it is real. It is."

"Woolgathering, Syrenne?" As Moiraine's head snaps up in surprise, Melfane walks all the way into the room and continues, smiling, "Or is it daydreaming? Of course you are in the palace-- why, where else did you think you would be?"

Moiraine shakes her head, saying quickly, "Oh-- perhaps it was only a daydream, at that. Sometimes it is still hard to believe that I am here, that is all."

"And where else should you be, but here and helping me look after Lady Elayne?" Melfane frowns, looking at her. "Aren't you getting any sleep at all? Are you sick? One of the Aes Sedai might help, for the Daughter-Heir's sake, if you are--"

"No!" she breaks in, and could bite her own tongue in two for the sudden sharpness of it. Light, woman, you will have the midwife suspicious of you if you are not careful! "No," Moiraine says again, "There is no need to disturb one of the Aes Sedai -- they have important things to do." Not to mention that the last thing she needs is for any sister to be examining her.

"Well, maybe you are right," Melfane admits, taking her by the arm and starting to lead her toward the kitchens as she chatters. "In that case, you will drink a full cup of my good flatwort and andilay root tea, and you can sit down for a while on the east stairs. Why, from there, you can even hear the new musicians they've hired-- not a patch on the Court Bard back in Morgase's day, I hear, but then that Merrilin had to move quickly to stay ahead of the headsman's axe when he left, Essande says--"

(my dearest Thom)

She misses a step at the sudden flash of thought (that was real this is real what is real now?), stumbling hard into the other woman. As Melfane exclaims and steadies her, Moiraine bites the inside of her lip until she tastes blood, fighting to clear her mind.

Oh, Light, what is happening to me?


10/25/06--18:48: Article 19 (chan 1276962)

"Everything is tangled."

She murmurs it, bracing her hand against the wall of the (Tower of Ghenjei) castle for support-- and then flinching violently away from it again as her fingers sink into phantom (shining steel) stone. Shivering, Moiraine wraps her arms around herself and staggers a few steps further down the hallway before she stops, staring blankly into space.

"I cannot find my way. Where am I? I cannot see... I cannot hold, I must hold, I am lost in my own mind, sa souvraya niende misain ye..."

Days it has been, or perhaps weeks, but how many she no longer knows. Every minute has turned into a horror of uncertainty, and each careful step brings a flare of agony bursting like flame behind half-blinded eyes as she walks two places at once (tower tall or castle wall or dreaming hall) and sometimes more. Now she takes only a few at a time, groping her way toward somewhere quiet and away from others before her strength runs out.

All men dream. But I know dreams for dreams. This is reality. The words are spoken quietly from a short distance ahead of her, and her head jerks up.

"Lan? No -- you cannot be here, not if this is real-- your path lies elsewhere--" The shadow-shape of the figure before her fades and is gone, and Moiraine closes her eyes, fighting back exhausted tears. "I saw it, once. I know it, I knew it, I remember -- don't I? But I was never supposed to be here..."

You're towerpent. The rough, smoke-hardened voice is almost a whisper, coming from behind her. Moiraine does not turn around. "And you are dead, Joe Manco, and even before that you were never here."

Doesn't matter, the ghost answers, inexorably I dreamed you, remember? And mebbe now you're dreaming me. One of us isn't real, I s'pose. Anyway, if it ain't the Tower, then this must be the Castle of Madness.

"No. No." She shakes her head wildly, and runs forward around a corner before she gets control of herself. "It is not -- I am not, must not--"

"I have had enough of this nonsense." From behind her, a hand grabs her arm and jerks her around. Melfane glares at her, then pulls her into a side room and lets go, placing both hands on her hips. "You were supposed to attend the Lady Elayne two hours ago, and so I come looking for you, and what do I find? Light, Syrenne, you're delirious! Now, you will stay right here until I bring one of the Aes Sedai, or one of those Kinswomen. I don't care how stubborn you are, if I can't help you, someone else will." She stalks from the room, slamming the wooden door behind her and dropping a heavy bar into place as she goes.

"No!" It would be a scream if she had the strength for it, but instead it is a whisper. In horror, Moiraine staggers to the door, pounding on it. "No-- I cannot-- they will find out-- I am not supposed to be here--"

As she speaks, the world whirls around her, fading into a dreaming reality that shimmers with the cold cruel steel of a once-destroyed tower, and she jerks back, chanting in a high thin voice,

"Courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to daze, iron to bind." As the vision fades, she shakes her head, then closes her eyes and forces herself to stillness with the last ounce of will.

"If a sister examines me, she will know, and all is lost. None of them can be trusted with this-- I must go back--"

Saidar rushes through her and explodes outward into a shining silver portal.

"--I was never supposed to be here--"

With a soft despairing cry, Moiraine falls forward into the gateway as it dissolves in fire.


10/26/06--23:24: Article 18 (chan 1276962)

Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain.

She has had her suspicions for some time now. Looking back, Moiraine cannot say for sure when it was that she first began to become aware of what would eventually need to be done.

What evidently must be done, if both she and her world are to survive.

It had been different once, of course. It had not mattered, before she had taken up residence within the Dreaming.

The World of Dreams. Tel'aran'rhiod. It has been believed to be a threat to your humanity...

Even then it had not mattered, not until her fall through a shining portal had shattered her link to Dream-- just as her fall through a redstone ter'angreal had once broken another Warder's bond, leaving her alone within the Tower of Ghenjei.

The Wheel weaves. All things are part of the Pattern.

She had not wanted to admit it, even to herself. She had accepted, years before, that none of the paths she had foreseen in the visions of Rhuidean had led her to Milliways, and had wondered if the change might not matter-- or might even be advantageous for them all, in some unfathomable way.

But time had passed, and events in her world have begun to spiral. The Pattern thins as Tarmon Gai'don draws ever nearer-- she knows it, Rand knows it, Nynaeve knows it-- they all do. And so she had thrown herself into her work in a very literal sense, without more than passing thought for what might happen.

You Blues. Always so ready to save the world that you lose yourselves.

Even when she had realized, she could not honestly say that she had been surprised. Somewhere deep within, she had known this day would come. She had once been warned, as it happens.

It is not given to mortals to love the Endless.

And now, she has waited almost until it is too late.

When she finds him, he is not in the Garden-- not that she had expected him to be. Nor is he in the chambers that they had once shared, or in the castle's great hall. Instead, Dream stands on a high balcony under a storm-darkened sky, pale fingers clenched tightly on a gray stone railing, wild black hair and robes both untouched by the rising wind as he looks out toward glittering diamond shores beside a sea of fallen tears.

He already knows what she has come to say. Being who he is, he cannot do otherwise. Still, there are rules, and some things must be spoken -- no matter how difficult.

In the end, it does not take long.

When Moiraine returns to the bar, it is with the knowledge that whatever hope of happiness she and the Endless who was once her husband might find together in the future, it will not come to pass until after the end of things. From this point forward, her life in her own world will be as that of Moiraine Sedai only, and no longer as the wife of Dream. She will never again set foot in the Milliways Dreaming as a living woman.

Unless she finds herself there in her dreams.

And even then, no matter how one might wish it otherwise, there is only one way a dream can end.

You wake up.


12/05/06--20:57: OOC: Letters from Milliways (chan 1276962)

This post is designed as a place to collect IC get-well letters to in_the_blue from a variety of Milliways characters.

Please, feel free to contribute!


12/20/06--18:08: Article 16 (chan 1276962)

She is upstairs working this evening, alternating between several projects in order that she might remain able to view each with clear mind and focus.

Moiraine has just set aside a journal open to her notes on the loosening of the Pattern and its effect on the dead of her world -- and now, perhaps, another -- and turned again in her anthology of poetry to a particular work, marked with a blue silk ribbon.


01/20/07--23:12: Article 15 (chan 1276962)

The following letter was sent with a rat for delivery, in response to a note received earlier.

Kaylee--

I appreciate the information; quite a lot, as it happens. It seems that matters may not have been as dire as I thought.

Considering what you have written, however, I suspect that you may not be aware that this is not, in fact, the first time that such an encounter with Nyarlathotep has taken place. I do not fault you for trying to protect Simon; I myself was trying to protect others when I made my request, very similar to your own. At that time, however, the Lord of Nightmare granted those within the realm of the bar a night's peace, rather than removing himself entirely from them. From this you may see, I believe, that there is something of interpretation possible in what response may be given to a request made of even the dark aspect of Dream.

I will say no more on the subject, I think, save to say this: be careful. Being one of Dream's does not necessarily protect you from danger at the claws of the Lord of Nightmare, should his temper rise.

--Moiraine Sedai


03/25/07--20:31: Article 14 (chan 1276962)

Moiraine's chambers in the House of Arch are well appointed and tasteful.

Still, to a discerning eye, it is apparent from the lack of personal touches that they are a guest residence and not a place where she stays enough to have become truly comfortable.


07/14/07--19:29: Article 13 (chan 1276962)

She had considered going downstairs for the evening, but there is too much to be done, she feels.

Particularly given the situation with Kim Bauer, perhaps.

As a result, the Aes Sedai is instead ensconced in her study and working at her desk, sketching out notes on pieces of paper and searching through a number of books.


12/01/07--21:40: OOC: Character Question Meme (chan 1276962)

Ask any of my characters a question, and they'll give an IC answer:

Moiraine (blue_ajah)
Jack Sparrow (pirate_jack)
Sam Winchester (gavemea_45)
Kim Ford (bannion_sight)
Gabriel Tam (gabriel_tam)
Frank Black (gifted_profiler)
Megwyn (not_a_horse)
Blodwen Rowlands (white_flowers)


02/16/08--19:40: Article 11 (chan 1276962)

The letter is written on cream-colored paper in a careful, graceful hand, and sealed in blue with her personal seal.

It is addressed, quite simply, to Susannah.

Susannah—

Were I writing this under other circumstances, I would very likely have set a warding upon the page such that it would be attuned to you and so that the words written here would fade within moments of its leaving your hands. As it happens, I have decided against doing so; I would ask, however, that you take care with it and that you would see it destroyed before you see it lost.

That approach to matters is one I am certain you understand very well.

In your letter you wrote of raising your child in the luxury of safety; I tell you that such a thing is among the most priceless of gifts and to be cherished while it may be. There is a saying in the Borderlands: ‘Peace favor your sword.’ In a land and among a people that have never truly known peace, there is no greater hope that could be offered to another, and it is precisely this which you have done in protecting your Rose.

It is difficult to be marked out by the Pattern and drawn down a path that might not otherwise have been chosen; very difficult, indeed, as you have cause to know. It may be that your daughter is one such, as well. Should that be the way of things for her, I am certain that there is a reason for it, even if it is one that neither you nor she would wish. The Wheel weaves in all its mirrors, after all, and there are threads that are known to be echoed across both worlds and times. More than this I will not say, not here.

Nor will I speak overmuch here of the harshness of teaching and learning or of the difficulty and importance of secrets kept, save to note that I have some acquaintance with both, as I believe you are well aware. If you wish, we can talk further of these and other matters, in particular of the man who turned against you and yours. Such betrayal is not uncommon, under certain conditions; I strongly suspect it is more than possible that this is such a situation of… corruption. Let us call it that and leave be there, at least for now.

Light willing, I shall see you again soon. I cannot say for certain, however; we spoke before of the price of buying time, and I must tell you that I fear my own respite, such as it has been, is nearly over. Something has happened, although I could not say precisely what; now things are changing, and when it is time, I will do what must be done.

May Light illumine and protect you and yours, and give you joy, Susannah. You have been more dear to me than you know.

--Moiraine


08/04/08--23:02: Letters. (chan 1276962)


Ace--

If there were a way that I believed I could safely spare you this, know that I would, but I cannot leave my world to pay the price of my absence.

Know also I could not have loved you more had you been born my family by blood. Light illumine and protect you, sister dear, all your days.

--Moiraine

---



Andrew--

It is one thing to have knowledge; it is something else entirely to know what to do with it.

Through your studies, you have learned much of my world; of this I am aware. It may be that you alone know where it is that I now go and what I plan to do, as well. If so, I warn you not to speak of it, lest all be unraveled before time.

Nevertheless, I am glad to have known you; you have given me much to think on, among other things. Walk ever in Light.

--Moiraine

---



Anthy--

It has been some time since I have seen you, and I do not know that you shall ever receive this, but I wished to write it all the same.

You have given me cause for many hours of thought, and I believe that I understand more of certain matters now than I did when last we met.

Forgive me, if you can. In any case, I wish you well.

--Moiraine

---



Behrooz--

The Wheel weaves, and all things are part of the Pattern. Although you were not born to the world and time that I myself am from, I am certain that there are reasons for the gifts that have manifested in and around you.

There may come a day when you encounter a young man by the name of Perrin Aybara at Milliways. Should this come to pass, you might mention that you are acquainted with 'Mistress Alys.' I believe that the two of you would find there to be some matters of interest between you.

Light illumine and protect you.

--Moiraine

---



Bran--

The world you have chosen is truly fortunate to have been blessed by your presence, and will be the richer for your decision. I am glad to have known you.

--Moiraine

---



Coyote--

Take care of Raven, inasmuch as you or anyone can.

--Moiraine

---



Crowley--

It is said that no man can stand in the Shadow so long that he cannot find the Light again.

You might consider what such a thing could mean to you.

--Moiraine

---



The letter appears beside a familiar book.

Dale--

As you once told me in the words of Master Paine, 'the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country.' I do not think that I am either, and I do not mean to shrink from what I must now do.

Paine also wrote that "What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value." There is a similar saying in my world as well: 'when the price is high, that is how you know it is worth paying.' Light send that our triumph, as well, be as glorious as the conflict has been hard.

You have been a dear and valued friend to me, and I am grateful to have known you. Walk ever in Light, Dale.

--Moiraine.

In slightly smaller writing below her signature, there are a few lines that look to have been added more recently.

I think that you may understand, now, more than I might have ever hoped, and I am more glad of it than I have words to express. For all that you have aided me in the past, you could not, you cannot, guard me where I go now, but I will carry your memory with me, and that alone will be gift enough.

---



Death--

Some time ago, I made a request of you. Since that day, I have come to realize that all things are part of the Pattern even more than I once thought, myself included.

Let it remain so.

--Moiraine

---



Desire--

Being who and what you are, you know what I have wanted; perhaps even what I have gone to do.

Know this as well: when the price is high enough, that is how you know it is worth paying.

--Moiraine

---




Morpheus--

You already know everything that I could ever have said were I to try to explain, I think. I believe, I must believe, that you also understand why I now do this, despite what it will mean.

I ask only one last thing of you, if you can someday give it-- be happy.

--Moiraine

---



When the note appears, a cup of Callisto blue tea laced with Titanian Silver appears beside it on the bar's surface.

Gren--

For all that we did not have many chances to speak, your words and insight have meant much to me, perhaps more than you may know. Light illumine and protect you, as you move through your own Pattern of days.

--Moiraine

---



Gwion--

I shall always remember the music that you shared with me, and the lessons that you taught, as well. Thank you, for both.

--Moiraine

---



Inigo--

Despite the fact that you saved me once before, where I go now, you cannot follow. I release you from my service, now and always.

Light illumine and protect you.

--Moiraine

---



Jack--

It is a difficult thing for a man to stand against darkness, chaos, betrayal and terror, even when there is little or no hope to be found, and to hold to that which is just while doing so. I have known men of such honor and ability in the past; they are often to be found in the Borderlands, or in that region which once was known as storied Manetheren.

I believe that you are one such, as well.

Walk ever in Light.

--Moiraine

---



Kaylee--

A word of advice: choose your battles wisely.

Light shine on you.

--Moiraine

---



A book appears beside the letter. It is a simple leather-bound journal, filled with writing in the same neat script as that of the letter itself.

Kim--

Although I might yet wish for the chance to offer you additional teaching and guidance, I have delayed as long as I dare, and now no more time remains. You are strong, though; in power, in will, and in heart. Light willing, it shall be enough.

The book that you will have received with this letter contains what is known of the writings of Corianin Nedeal, who was knowledgeable in the ways of moving and acting within Tel'aran'rhiod. I have added my own notes, as well. Given your past experience, you may find it useful, although I would advise caution.

Light illumine and protect you, Kim. I think you will do well.

--Moiraine

---




Lan--

I did not wish to leave a second time without some word of explanation, inasmuch of one as I can give, at any rate. I have gone back to the world we both know, to do what I alone may and what now must be done, if our world is to have any chance to survive.

Do not blame yourself for not realizing what I had planned before you receive this; I took care to hide it from everyone as best I could, perhaps especially from you. No man can stand divided within himself, and things are as they were meant to be.

Still, the days we have spent here have been a grace unlooked-for. I am glad to have seen you again, before the end.

Light illumine and protect you, Lan Gaidin. Fare well.

--Moiraine

---



Mal--

It is said in my world that men of the Borderlands will take a dagger's wound to avoid harm to a woman and count it fair trade. I see the same sense of honor and integrity in you, when it comes to those that you have chosen to protect, and I am glad of it.

Light illumine and protect you, Malcolm Reynolds. I am pleased to have known you.

--Moiraine

---



Meg--

I would have loved to see you dance in the court where I was raised; you would have shone among them like a jewel. When you wear the necklace I left with you, dear once-niece, remember me.

--Moiraine

---



Two letters appear on the bar's surface when he approaches. One is addressed to Gwion and entrusted to Merriman's care, while the other is for Merriman alone.

Merriman--

I think that you will understand better than most when I tell you that I have gone to do what must be done. Light send that it will be enough, and that our world may be as fortunate as yours has been.

You have been a trusted and dear friend to me, and I will miss you. May you find joy, all your days.

--Moiraine

---



Nita--
Dai'stiho, sister-- for though you are not Aes Sedai, you are of my sisterhood in truth.

Light illumine and protect you, and may you fare well, always.

--Moiraine

---



Nynaeve--

I have gone back to the world that we both know. Lan knows; I have left him a letter as well, although I told neither of you in advance, nor Rand. I could not take the risk that any of you would try to stop me from doing what I must now do, and although you may be angry with me, I think that you understand.

Light illumine and protect you, Aes Sedai.

--Moiraine

---



Perrin--

It is unlikely that you will see me here again; the Wheel weaves, and my part in the Pattern lies elsewhere for now. Take all due care, but know that this place holds something of a haven from that which we face elsewhere. Still, be cautious, always; nowhere is truly safe.

Should you meet a man named Behrooz Araz, you may mention my name to him, as well as yours. I think you will find him to be of interest.

--Moiraine

---



Raguel--

The time has come, and I must go, but I shall neither forget you nor that of which we spoke.

May Light shine on you, and the hand of the Creator shelter you, all your days.

--Moiraine

---



Rand--

Once again, I have gone where I must to do what I might. Should I be successful in that which I am about to attempt, we shall have some additional short span of time in which you may do what is needed before Tarmon Gai'don is upon you. Use it wisely.

The world lies in your hands, Rand; then again, it was always meant to.

Light illumine and protect you. As I have said before-- you will do well.

--Moiraine

---



A well-read volume appears on the bar's surface, with the letter tucked inside the cover. It is a book that he is more than likely to recognize.

Raven--

Remember what I have asked of you, please; remember, and heed.

Thank you for everything, my only beloved brother.

--Moiraine

---



River--

Hile, gunslinger, and fare well.

Light willing, I think that you shall.

--Moiraine

---



Shelley--

Walk ever in Light.

--Moiraine

---



Spike--

It is a difficult path that you have chosen to walk, but one not without reward, as I am certain you are already aware. You have been in my thoughts a great deal these past days, for reasons I cannot explain here, but know that I wish you well. Light shine ever on you and those you hold dear.

--Moiraine

---



Susannah--

I must depart, and it does not now appear that I shall have the chance to speak with you before I do. The time has come, and I go to do what must be done. I leave this to you instead of calling the number you gave me, for some of these matters are easier to write than to speak, and words on a page often last longer in the memory than those heard.

It is hard to face the Shadow and come away unaffected, and it seems that your friend Nancy Deepneau has learned this. Light shine on her and illumine her path, that she may some day again be free of darkness.

You wrote of the smaller evils of human existence, perhaps questioning whether they were or should be as much a concern as the larger evil that you and I both know all too well. I cannot decide for you, but I can advise that it is just such small weaknesses that open the mind and heart to the influence of worse things. It is known in my world that to yield to the Dark One even for an instant, even in the smallest matter, is to allow him to tie a string to one's heart, a string that may never be able to be cut. Deny him, and his power fails.

It may be that the situation and that which you face now is different than once it was, but the heart of your calling and of your self remains unchanged, I suspect. I offer you one more thing to think on, and that is this: there may be another beside you who stands ready to take up this charge and to direct the shape of that which will come.

Light illumine and protect you, Susannah. Your friendship has been a gift beyond reckoning.

--Moiraine

---



Tom--

It is a very difficult thing indeed to turn away from the temptation of the Shadow. Few try; fewer still succeed. You have done well.

Light illumine and protect you and those of your House.

--Moiraine

---



Will--

It is time, and I go to do what must be done.

I shall miss you, dear friend.

--Moiraine

---



Yuna--

You will do well. Light shine on you.

--Moiraine

---




A final bundle of letters is left with the bar, with copies addressed to the following: Adam Young, Alanna of Trebond, Alice Liddell, Aziraphael, Bernard Wrangle, Cordelia Vorkosigan, Dionysus, Elaine le Blanke, Elizabeth Bennet, Galadan Wolflord, Garion of Riva, Harry S. Truman, Indiana Jones, Ingress, Kate Pryde, Lilly Kane, Machu Picchu, Mary Lennox, Michael Daemon Donighal, Michaelangelo, Nymphadora Tonks, Peter Petrelli, Peter Pettigrew, Puck, Raphael, Ray Stantz, Regulus Black, Simon Tam, Suzi Darley, Svava, Tony Stark, Truman Burbank, and Yrael.

My days here have been the richer in a great many ways for having known you.

Light illumine and protect you.

--Moiraine


08/06/08--21:29: Article 9 (chan 1276962)

The study is a barren place, as compared to its appearance in days past. No books remain on the shelves, nor is there any other indication of her years-long residence.

(A locked wooden trunk rests now in the quarters she had long ago been given in the House of Arch. She had quietly seen to its placement days before, without mentioning it to anyone.)

Moiraine stands in the middle of the floor, a bright corona of light shining around her and a faint line creasing her forehead as she concentrates. It is delicate work, and slow, yet within the space of minutes all the layered wards and weaves that she has placed on the room over the years have unraveled and dissipated harmlessly under her direction.

She sighs, releasing saidar, and the golden aura winks out.

"It is done," she murmurs. "And now it is time."

The Aes Sedai picks up a bundle of letters from her desk, then glides smoothly across the room and out the door, closing it behind her.

For the first time in several years, it is left unlocked.


11/02/08--21:34: Article 8 (chan 1276962)

She had carefully prepared herself before opening the door, knowing that she would have a mere instant at most in which to act. As Moiraine crossed through from Milliways into the Royal Palace of Caemlyn, she embraced saidar and channeled a second gateway into existence, so close beside the first that her single step carried her through both at once.

It had been a risk, certainly, and enough of one for her to have grown cold at the thought when she had first considered it, but in the end she had been right-- whatever strange powers the Milliways portals had of rendering themselves unseen by others had this time shielded the residue of her weave from detection as well. Thus protected, she had passed through unobserved, emerging beside a small, familiar thicket in the woods a few days' ride outside the city, well away from the Sunrise Gate. A sigh of relief escapes her at finding the hidden cache still undisturbed beneath the brush. Not long afterward, wrapped in a merchant woman's sensible brown dress and shapeless cloak, with her few belongings in a neat bundle slung at her hip, the disguised Aes Sedai walks briskly up the Erinin Road toward Aringill.



****************************************************************

Matters in Aringill are tense; anyone can see that. Then again, matters are much the same everywhere as Tarmon Gai'don approaches; it is not as though she had expected anything different. A few careful inquiries are enough to assure her that there is no immediate danger. Despite the years she has spent in Milliways since last returning to her world, days only have passed here, if even that. Moiraine had suspected that would be the case; she had noticed before the slowing of time itself as the Dark One's strength continues to grow. Even Lews Therin himself had remarked upon it, once.

"How can one hope to preserve time when it is endlessly slipping away?"

Moiraine could not answer him then, but she has the answer now, or so she hopes. She knows what must be done, and she is willing to attempt it. Indeed, given Min's past visions and her own experiences in Rhuidean, the Tower of Ghenjei, and Milliways-- it may well be that she is the only one who can.

A few more inquiries lead her to a stable with a horse for sale, and to a shopkeeper with a stock of travel supplies and a good sense of discretion. Well before midday, Moiraine is on her way north.

****************************************************************

The route she chooses leads from Andor to Cairhien, then across Cairhien and into the Borderlands-- first Shienar, then to Arafel, and finally into the mountains beyond. It is the most direct path she can take that does not draw too near either the battles along the Spine of the World or those at Tar Valon. Likewise, although the journey on horseback will be long, she dares not risk detection by weaving another gateway, nor can she chance passing through Tel'aran'rhiod-- especially as it is evident from the news Nynaeve had brought that the Forsaken now walk the World of Dreams largely unhindered.

As the days pass, her growing sense of urgency drives her to ride from the first light of dawn until deep into the encroaching dusk. She would push herself even harder, save that she knows that it will all be for nothing if she is exhausted when she arrives at her destination. At night, Moiraine takes care to conceal her camp, using every trick and technique that she has learned during twenty years of partnership with Lan-- who even in his absence guards her still, it seems, as much as he can.

****************************************************************

The mountains north of Arafel are cold, desolate, and deadly. Despite that, Moiraine chooses the steepest, most dangerous, least-used path; it will give her the best chance to cross unseen, she knows. When the horse snorts and balks at the trail, wild-eyed, she cannot help but laugh. "You are clearly no fool; very well, let it be so. Our ways would have parted soon enough in any case." She strips it of tack, which she conceals under a pile of rocks, and turns it loose. As it wanders back down toward the lowlands, the Aes Sedai begins the climb on foot.

The going is painfully slow. At one point, she spends the better part of an hour lying flat in the dirt behind a narrow ridge a short distance above the trail, waiting for a fist of Trollocs to move past. It would have been longer, she knows, save that they are desperate to descend from the mountains before they themselves become prey to some of the things that hunt the heights. Moiraine decides that it is good fortune, of a sort-- the more so in that their stench and the noise they are making in their hurry will draw attention away from her, or so she hopes.

Evidently it works, as she reaches the top of the pass without further difficulty. As she starts down the far side, she keeps a sharp watch out for what she needs -- and all in all, it is not long before she finds a group of boulders that will serve. The Aes Sedai creeps carefully past them, hiding herself out of view from the trail. She sets her back against the stone for what protection it might offer, and looks out across the land to the north.

She has no trouble spotting it; there is, after all, very little remaining in the Blasted Lands that could block this sight. As Moiraine looks out at Shayol Ghul, the Dark One's prison, even all her years of training are not enough for her to repress a shudder.

One moment is all she allows herself, however; there is no point in hesitating, not when it has taken so long to reach this place to begin with and certainly not when every second brings more danger of discovery. She has come this far, and she will not be stopped-- not before doing what she must. The Aes Sedai takes a single breath, allows herself one last fleeting thought--

(--falter, fail, and all is lost -- oh Light, help me--)

--and then saidar explodes through her in a storm of power.

It had been Lews Therin Telamon, the Dragon himself, with the aid of the Hundred Companions, who had managed to patch the Bore drilled through the Pattern and into the Dark One's prison with a series of seven seals, ending the last War of the Shadow. Even had she anything approaching such strength, the backlash of power then had led to the tainting of saidin, the like of which no one can afford now. What is more, the seals are failing; she does not know how many remain intact, but with each one that breaks, the Dark One comes closer to reaching the surface of the world. It cannot happen; not yet, not before Rand is ready -- maybe not ever, truth be told, but how to stop it?

She had first seen the possibility in the futures shown to her in Rhuidean, although she had not truly been able to encompass its meaning then. It had become clearer to her during her time with the Aelfinn and Eelfinn in the Tower of Ghenjei, as she had observed how they were able to view details in the folds of the Pattern itself, but it had not been until Milliways that she had learned how to work with such complicated threads.

As she starts to channel, the ground begins to shake and the sky to darken. A furious snarl of Shadowspawn pours out of Thak'andar and toward the mountains, racing toward her; it is clear that she will not have long. She opens herself fully to the True Source, drawing saidar to the point where it is nearly unbearable -- and then even beyond that, further outward, demanding more. Sparks seem to shimmer at her fingertips as she struggles, reaching for something on the very edge of possibility.

Were she to have told anyone of her plan, the very idea would have seemed madness. The Bore is a hole in the Pattern, and the Pattern is composed of the threads of human lives. While it can be sealed with power drawn from the True Source, as Lews Therin had done, to truly mend such a tear would require new "cloth" to be woven. Such a thing is beyond her, of course, perhaps beyond any mortal effort; but after long years of study, there is finally one thing she can do -- and as she grasps her own thread in the nearest Mirror of the Wheel and begins to work it free, the world around her trembles.

"From place to place run the lines of If," she had once explained, "between all the worlds that might be." Every one of those possible worlds is her focus now -- or rather, the existence that she might have had in each. Using the trick of sight gleaned from the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn, as well as the skills painstakingly learned from Raven, Moiraine finds and pulls thread after thread from world after world, but drawing only a single one -- hers -- from each. She works with frantic speed, taking her own life over and over again and weaving each multicolored thread into a single shining patch for the Pattern itself.

It will not hold forever, she knows. Still, if they are all lucky, it will last -- she will last -- long enough. Enough for Rand to have the time he needs, for them all to have a chance -- for the world to, perhaps, survive. Long enough.

Minutes pass with agonizing slowness, until there is only one thread remaining. Moiraine does not hesitate; she sets her hands to the only life she has ever known and begins to twist, using her own future to fasten the patch into place. As she works, her form begins to blur, her appearance growing hollow and near-transparent, becoming insubstantial. She does not seem to notice, or to care.

She ties the weave and watches as it settles into place and remains intact, the patch held fast and secure. Smiling in triumph, Moiraine lets out a soft, relieved sigh and collapses to the earth. The last tiny wisp of thread escapes her fingertips and is carried away on the wind.

Instants later, her body dissolves into dust.


11/10/08--19:29: Article 7 (chan 1276962)

The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again.

In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the mountains north of Arafel. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time.

But it was a beginning.


* * * * * * *

The wind blows steadily onward, sweeping down from the highest peaks and over the barren, stony surface of the lower mountainside. As it passes, a brightly-colored wisp of thread tumbles ahead of it, driven haphazardly over the ground by each uneven gust.

For all of its brightness, it is a ragged piece of thread, barely more than a loosely-gathered tangle of fibers; and yet, strangely, nothing seems to impede its passage. Once, as it fetches up against a boulder for a few seconds, the strands shimmer and seem to form into the near-translucent figure of a woman-- a shape lost to sight in the next instant as the wind gusts harder and tears the thread free.


12/31/08--18:48: Article 6 (chan 1276962)

Upon her return from Milliways -- without difficulty, as it happens -- Moiraine makes use of the telephone a second time without delay.

One ring.

Two.


01/21/09--10:18: Article 5 (chan 1276962)

It is quiet in the apartment.

Moiraine has settled herself by the window with a book, but the text is being ignored in favor of the view.

There is a thoughtful look on her face.


05/13/09--20:05: Article 4 (chan 1276962)

[After this.]

When she returns from Milliways, Moiraine does not stay in the apartment for any longer than it takes to cross the room and walk out the front door. Two minutes later, she is gliding down the street at a brisk pace.

All things considered, it does not take her that long to reach the sheriff's station. Lucy blinks in surprise upon seeing her.

"Hi Moiraine -- are you looking for Sheriff Truman? I mean, probably you are, since this is the sheriff's station and all, and you haven't come by just to visit before, but I don't think he's here, or at least he wasn't here before, unless of course he came back while I was making another pot of coffee and is here now, in which case he is here, and if he is here, he'd be back in his office--"

"No, thank you, Ms. Moran-- Lucy," the Aes Sedai amends hastily, as Lucy opens her mouth again. "As it happens, I am seeking Dale Cooper; do you know where he might be found at present?"

"Well, he might be here too, except I don't think he is, unless--"

"Do you have some means of locating him?"

Mere moments later, the dispatch radio crackles to life.

"...Agent Cooper?"


07/29/09--19:17: Article 3 (chan 1276962)

It happens slowly, as most things worth having do.

Moiraine has sorted through the clothes that Lucy bought for her with Harry Truman's money, selecting those that she feels comfortable with and carefully folding those that she does not. The latter she returns to the suitcase and stores at the back of the closet; the former she continues to wear. Long denim skirts matched with cotton and flannel shirts -- even though such things are a far cry from the silk and wool gowns of her youth and adulthood, she is able to adapt.

She is becoming accustomed to the deep and abiding restlessness that she thinks is a legacy of the habits of a life lived without peace, and finds ways to appease it. She spends time at the library, searching through dusty old histories and forgotten files. Eventually, after watching her work, the librarian's demeanor unbends from suspicion of an outsider into something of austere approbation, and Moiraine is given access to genealogical records and handwritten letters, as well.

Occasionally she meets with Pete Martell. She accepts coffee when he offers it -- by now she can even drink it without distaste, although she fears she will never have true affection for the bitter brew -- and listens to his story about the time the fish got into the percolator, as well as the other tales that come to his mind, of this and that family, this event and that story. There is much to be learned from such ramblings, she knows; and if there is something of comfort and familiarity in the seeking, it is something of a grace.

(Catherine Martell does not make her presence known during these meetings, although Moiraine is well aware that she is not unobserved. It is of no great import; she can wait, and has had enough of dealings in the past with similar individuals such that she is not overly concerned.)

Sometimes they play chess. She does not win every game, by no means, but neither does she always lose, and she thinks that the challenge pleases him. Pete tells her the names of others she might talk to in Twin Peaks and elsewhere, such as the library in Seattle and the historical collections there. The former she makes note of, with intent to follow up; when he mentions the latter, she nods and demurs, at least for now, the same as she does when he suggests that she might enjoy fishing.

On some days she walks in one direction or another (excepting always the routes which might lead to certain sycamore groves), breathing in the scent of the air and becoming accustomed to it. She does not drive, of course, and cannot truly fathom what might be involved in learning to do so, but it is of no matter, not at present.

She is content.

It is something of a surprise, when she realizes it.


09/19/09--21:08: Article 2 (chan 1276962)

Lucy had arrived without warning at the apartment shortly before noon, and five minutes later Moiraine found herself in the passenger seat of Lucy's car on the way to a Tupperware party at Norma Jennings' home.

Although it had been an extremely unusual experience, she cannot truly say that it had not been a pleasant one. At the very least, it might be considered a beginning step, of sorts, toward becoming an accepted part of town society.

The Aes Sedai suspects that may have been Lucy's intention to begin with, but she does not plan to ask. The only question that remains at the immediate moment is what to do with the few pieces of plastic dishware that she has acquired as a result.

At present, she is sitting in a chair at the small table in the dining nook, contemplating the potential for using Tupperware as a makeshift vase.


02/19/10--21:38: Article 1 (chan 1276962)

She has closed the main switchboard for the day and is preparing to walk back to the apartment in the early evening, as is her usual habit.  When Moiraine leaves the sheriff's department, however, she finds that someone is waiting for her outside.  He looks up as the door opens, and nods a greeting.

"Give you a lift?"

The Aes Sedai does not allow her surprise to show, but inclines her head to him in turn.

"Thank you, Hawk.  I should be pleased to accept."

The trip is largely silent at first, save for the hum of the engine as he concentrates on navigating the road, still icy in spots.  She is not particularly surprised at this, as Tommy 'Hawk' Hill has always been inclined to be taciturn, insofar as she herself has seen.  For her part, Moiraine also remains quiet, observing the surrounding scenery with polite interest.

Eventually, he clears his throat.  "The dog's okay."

It needs no real thought for her to know what he is referring to; she herself had been the one to relay the call through dispatch that very morning.  A report of an attack by a wild animal, down at the lower edge of town.

"Is it so?" she replies.  "I am glad to hear it."

Hawk nods.  "It was starving; been through a hell of a time, from the looks of things.  Diane's looking after it over at the clinic now.   Says it's going to pull through just fine." A beat. "You knew it wasn't a wolf."

"I suspected," she tells him, with a very small shrug.  "It did not seem likely that it would be, from how the incident was described."  There is a pause, but her hesitation lasts only a fraction of an instant before she adds, matter-of-factly, "From what I have known of wolves, they would not behave in such fashion."

"Mmm."  Another beat.  "Used to be wolves around here, it's said.  They left, a long time ago."

"That might be considered something worth regret," she says, quietly.  "By some."

"Yeah.  By some."  He pulls up at the curb and puts the vehicle in park, although he leaves the engine running. "One of Diane's techs is moving down to Pullman for a while.  Vet school.  Washington State.  She's looking to rent her place." 

Hawk glances over at her. "Told her I might know someone who'd be interested."

"As it happens, you do,"  Moiraine murmurs.


11/21/10--19:52: Article 0 (chan 1276962)

Twin Peaks is a small town with a unique charm. Just ask anyone.

Part of the beauty of it is that you can do just that, and whoever you ask will be able to tell you pretty much whatever it is that you might be inquiring about. If you're looking for the town itself, well, it's easy to find -- located just five miles south of the Canadian border and twelve miles west of the Washington state line. If you're looking for somewhere to eat, perhaps to grab a cup of coffee or some of the best cherry pie to be found anywhere, why, the Double R Diner's the place to go, and you'll find that right near the corner of Main Street and Falls Avenue. If you're looking to stay awhile, almost anyone will direct you to the Great Northern Hotel out on the Great Northern Highway (opinions differ on which one was named first), near White Tail Falls.

Almost anyone, that is. After all, it might be the best hotel in town -- even if because it's the only hotel in town -- but occasionally the clientele at the Great Northern can be a mite peculiar.

(No more so than the owner, but then again, Ben Horne's peculiarities are well known. After all, he's one of Twin Peaks' own.)