Chapter Text
Alvia sits in a corner of her room at the White Tower. There is a Gateway below her. She looks down at the fire and smiles.
***
Ten days earlier
On nights like tonight, when Fortuona couldn't sleep, she walked the palace grounds. The moon was full, the summer breeze calming, and it would have been a pleasant night had it not been for the whispers she felt in her head.
Stopping outside the damane kennels, she heard stirrings equal to her own. Fortuona paused. Her Doomseer was gone for the month (Darbinda pretended she had no lover, and Fortuona pretended to believe her), but a Foretelling might do just as well. Opening the door, Fortuona stepped inside.
The kennels were large - two floors, enough for twenty damane - and they were full these days. The last three empty stalls had been filled by three Atha'an Miere from a ship that had crashed near the coastline last month. The girls were separated, of course, but one had a room right near the front door. Fifi sucked her thumb and sobbed quietly in her sleep. She was exhausted, of course. From the mark on the door, her training was progressing well.
Further down the corridor, there were quiet whispers from other doors. A few damane, all Seanchan born, chatted with their friends, while another sung an slurred lullaby. Fortuona didn't recognize the melody. She must have been from somewhere else. All of them were well-trained, however. Fortuona did not tolerate anything otherwise.
Up the next flight of steps was the damane that Fortuona wished to see. Meera was neither strong nor particularly talented, but the fortunes she gave were accurate. Fortuona opened the door and stepped inside.
The plump little damane was sleeping soundly, her gray hair spread out on the pillow. A smile crossed her face. She must have been thinking of the sweets that the sul'dams often snuck her. "Pst," Fortuona said, picking up the bracelet. She put in on her wrist as a matter of course, but did not try to use it. "Meera, wake up."
"Hmm?" Meera opened her eyes and focused on Fortuona.
"Meera," Fortuona said again. "I need you to wake up. I need you to tell me my fortune."
The damane sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Empress," she said. "Meera - Meera needs a moment."
Fortuona nodded, then sat back as the damane pulled back the covers and folded the blanket neatly. Then the damane turned to her. She studied Fortuona for a moment before pulling back in surprise. "Meera cannot say-"
Fortuona frowned, staring at the damane in annoyance. "Yes," she said. "You can." Meera did not need to be punished, but Fortuona touched her shoulder with the a'dam anyway.
The little damane frowned again, then her eyes rolled back. "Beware the new moon," she said in an entirely different voice. "Beware the night. The seas and the flame from afar unite against the silver. The ancient one that still remains come to--" She convalesed once, her head hitting the wall with a dull thud before she fell forward.
"Meera!" Fortuona couldn't even think to process the fortune. She dropped to her knees and shook the damane's shoulder, then drew her hand away. There was blood. Through the a'dam, Meera's life force was suddenly weak and fading. "Meera!"
The damane was gone, a pool of blood spreading around her. Fortuona blinked in the moonlight, staring at the plump little body that had been in her family since before she was born.
In the kennel around her, one damane after another began an unearthly howl, like the sound of wolves. Fortuona stared at her bloody hands and then pulled away. She did not sleep that night, and in the morning, when Mat asked her how she was, she didn't know how to reply.
Chapter Text
Five days later
Alivia Sedai looked at the group gathered in her sitting room in Tel'aran'rhoid. Her circle. Her sitting room. It had been three years since she had been freed, and the feeling of ownership still sometimes sent a thrill through her.
She looked around the room at the cluster of former damane and others. Mother Cadsuane insisted they were not to do anything, but Alivia disagreed.
Alivia knew what it meant to be a weapon.
And now, after three years of study, she knew what it meant to have strategy. That was also important.
At the heart of the gathering was a hollowed-eyed girl. She looked weaker every day. "There were more raids this month," she said. "And they made me-"
Needa, a Windfinder, took the girl's hand and rubbed it. "We'll strike soon. It won't be long." She pursed her lips. "Can you tell me exactly where you are?"
The girl shook her head. "Aunt Needa, I'm scared."
Needa clasped the girl as well as she could in Tel'aran'rhoid. "Once we're done with this meeting, you'll show me where you are." She turned to Alivia. "We strike soon."
"The latest report said that the rebellion in the south has been fully suppressed," Kyrian said to the crowd. She had dark black hair and still spoke with a Seanchan slur. She was in the Tower with Alivia, using one of the ter'angreal rings that the novices now created regularly.
"Which means the Empress will have united her forces," Needa clarified. She spit the words. She was a Windfinder, though Alivia did not know where her ship was. The Windfinders were uncomfortable with Gateways on ships, but the woman had appeared at the White Tower a month ago in person, and she had kept contact with Alivia every day since then. "All of this means we need to strike."
"It does." Ryma had never regained her Aes Sedai calm. Her hands were still shaking on her teacup. "We start this week."
Alivia nodded. "We do."
Tyla's fingers moved quickly. Alivia knew it was Aiel finger talk, though she didn't know the code. "We can be ready," she said. "We will fight."
Alivia nodded. "Give us five days. We will be ready."
***
That night, on one of the nearly forgotten Oath Rods, all who could channel in the White Tower took the same vow: I will not channel while wearing an a'dam.
Chapter 3
Summary:
It begins.
Chapter Text
It was, in retrospect, almost inevitable. Alivia knew the Seanchan Empire. She knew almost every damane kennel. And the Seanchan Empire was nothing if not predictable.
Alivia stepped into the room. She had spent nearly a year there, a decade ago, and it hadn't changed. In front of her, in the moonlight, an older woman lay on a pallet, sleeping peacefully. In the distance, Alivia could hear sobbing. Good. It meant someone still had the strength to fight back.
The woman was much weaker than Alivia, which would make her task easier. She wanted to complete the entire kennel before she left.
Alivia embraced the Source through the sa'angreal in her hand, and the woman's eyes went wide. "Shh," Alivia whispered, even as she wove Air into a gag. She shielded the woman. Now for the tricky part.
She wove Compulsion. "Kill all sul'dam you find. Leave none of them alive."
And then she removed the clasp.
The woman's eyes widened, and she tried to scream through the gag.
Alivia wove compulsion for one last time. "Silence."
She dropped the gag and shield and stepped into the hallway. Twenty more damane on this floor, and another three floors downstairs. She had two hours before dawn.
The sun was just creeping in behind her as Alivia finished the final room. Four girls in bare feet, no more than fifteen, trailed behind her quietly. They would follow her to the White Tower. The Seanchan had not, of course, abandoned their 'festivals'.
Five other women, each kidnapped in recent years, joined her. All had promised to join the fight. Alivia did the mental math and found it came out well. One of the White sisters had taught her the term for what she wanted: exponential growth.
The Gateway opened before Alivia and the girls stepped through. Behind Alivia, as she left, the hallway exploded with fire and screaming.
Good.
Chapter Text
Like all the Wise Ones, Tyla had been through the pillars. She had seen the future of the Aiel people. Many of the Wise Ones had taken their future as a threat, what might happen were they to attack the Seanchan.
Tyla felt otherwise. The only world in which they would be safe was a world in which the Seanchan were robbed of their prize weapon. So long as damane existed in the world, the Seanchan would always be a threat.
The entire world was rebuilding after the Last Battle. And without the car'a'carn to guide them, the Aiel needed to make their own safety. They needed to strike now.
Tyla knew the threat herself intimately. Her sister Zinna had married a Shaido man. When news came that the Shaido encampment had been destroyed, she had hoped that Zinna had died. She knew differently now.
There was an Aiel damane, she had been told, with a red mark on the left side of her face. Zinna was a damane.
Zinna had earned much toh. Zinna had deserved to be made gai'shan. But she hadn't deserved this.
Zinna was a damane, and Tyla would burn the world down to save her.
***
Even in her sleep, Sheena dreamed of the a'dam.
It was spring again, and she was dressed in her favorite skirt. There were flowers in her hair, and the girls were lined up to try on the a'dam before they went to the dance.
("It's just a formality,"" Mama had said. "It's a silly ritual.")
This festival would be better than the last, just as that one had been better than the one before. The one two years ago - Sheena had been ten then - had barely happened, because there was a famine. The one after that, most of the festival workers had spent the entire winter rebuilding their forces. But this one should be good.
Her friend Talya was ahead of her in line. The necklace snapped around her neck, and the sul'dam shook her head. "You can go."
Behind her, Sheena's mother had clasped her shoulder. "Your turn now," she said. "You're growing up!"
The necklace snapped around Sheena's neck, and she felt something, a tugging.
"We've found one," the sul'dam said.
"What?" Sheena had said. "You're wrong. You can't be."
The sul'dam smiled condescendingly. "Take off the necklace. That's all you need to do."
Sheena's hands went up to the necklace, then convulsed. She began to shake.
"Mama," she said. "Mama, tell them there's been a mistake. Mama! Da! Help me!"
Sheena turned, but her mother was outside.
Sheena had tugged at the collar until she vomited. In this dream, though, the collar came loose in her hands. She ran, but behind her the sul'dam -
A touch on her shoulder, and Sheena roused into consciousness. Had she overslept? The fear cut through the weight of the dread she felt every day. If she had overslept, the sul'dam would punish her again. Her bladder ached, but that was a good sign. I haven't wet the bed, at least. The sul'dam had punished her for that, early on. She hadn't wet the bed in months now. Not since the summer. She was getting better, regardless of what the sul'dam told her.
Sheena opened her eyes in alarm. It was still dark, but there was a glow around her. There was a woman standing nearby. Another damane? No, she had no sul'dam. A marath'damane?
"Pst." The woman's voice was kind, and Sheena almost found comfort in it. But comfort was a two-edged sword. "I'm a friend. I'm here to help you." She didn't have a Seanchan accent.
"Help me?" Sheena asked, scrambling to sit up. "But you can't help me. You can't be here. They'll hurt you too. The sul'dam will-"
"I can," the woman said calmly. Sheena couldn't see her features in the moonlight. "They're not going to hurt me. I can set you free."
"No!" Sheena cried, clutching at her collar. "They'll just come back and-"
The woman's voice changed. Somehow it was even gentler. "Do you want me to end this?"
End this. Sheena had prayed for death. She'd only eaten because she had been beaten when she did not. "Yes," she said. She closed her eyes. There's only one way to escape, Tufi, the damane in the kennel next to her, had once said. Tufi had during a to'raken flight a week later. The sul'dam had said it was an accident, but Sheena knew otherwise.
There was a tugging, and then the world felt darker. Sheena opened her eyes again, but the woman's glow was gone. "What did you do?"
"I severed you." The woman's voice was calm. "You can't be a damane anymore. Here." She put her hand on Sheena's and guided it to the collar. "You're free."
The collar opened easily to Sheena's hand. She sat, stunned, staring at it. The other woman took it out of her hand and opened it too far, snapping the clasp. It fell on the floor, useless.
She was free. Tears filled Sheena's eyes, even as she felt a wave of relief. It's gone. She wanted to run and jump and - swim, she hadn't been able to swim - but she couldn't reach the Power, and a crushing wave of depression hit it.
"If you want it back, you'll need to go to the White Tower," the woman told her. "No crying. You have a mission now. Can you do that for me?"
Sheena nodded. She wasn't going to, but at least it would get the woman out of the room.
The woman sighed and then pressed a hand against Sheena's temple. "Go to the White Tower," she commanded, and a prickle ran up Sheena's neck.
The White Tower, Sheena thought as the woman left. She just needed to make it to the White Tower.
Chapter Text
Katsi held the Oath Rod in her hand. In her sul'dam garb, no one questioned her presence. Daitar, her Warder, himself an Asha'man, stood beside her and channeled a bubble of silence.
"Embrace the Source," she ordered the damane. The girl did, easily. "Now channel into the rod."
And then, after that: "Repeat after me: 'I will not touch the Source again.'"
"'I will not touch the Source again.'" The Source around the girl winked out and she stopped, staring at Katsi. "What...?" Damane did not question why. Damane did not question anything, but this was new.
"Nothing," Katsi said. "Let's move on for the day. You've done a good job." She turned to Daitar. "Let's go to the next room."
***
Elina had always considered herself to be kind. She ran charities and raised kittens and birds. She refused to beat her damane too harshly, even when they misbehaved. So when Tansy, the strange red-haired damane, had broken her arm in a fall, Elina had made a point to ask the chef to prepare bone-knitting broth soup.
Which was why it was such a surprise when Elina opened the door to Tansy's kennel and found her sitting with another red-haired woman. Tansy was rubbing her arm and flexing her fingers. Healed. It had been Healed. Which meant -
The woman turned to Elina with fire in her eyes. Her fingers flexed and Tansy's head crashed into the wall. "It's you," she said.
Marath'damane. Elina's blood ran cold. "What are you doing here?" And then she noticed that Tansy was no longer wearing her collar. "Tansy, this is beneath you. Put on your collar so that we can-"
"It's her," Tansy repeated. "She's the one who controlled me." The damane spat the words, and Elina realized it was the longest sentence she had heard from the woman.
"But!" The soup tureen crashed out of Elina's hands. "But I was kind to you!"
"Kind?" Tansy scoffed. "Kind would have been to kill me. You were not kind to me. You gave me sweetmeats, but you never gave me what I wanted. You never asked me what I wanted."
The other red-haired woman turned to Elina with a strange smile. "You have potential," she said slowly.
"Let's get out of here, Tyla," Tansy said. "I don't want to be here when the guards return."
"No," Tyla said. "We don't." She picked up the discarded collar from the floor and walked to Elina. Opening the clasp, she snapped it around Elina's neck and stepped away. "I will not kill you. I will be kind."
"What?" Elina cried. She reached for the a'dam but her hand cramped. She yanked it away. As she watched, a silver doorway opened, and the two other women stepped through. Tansy pinched out the candle, leaving Elina alone in the dark.
Elina reached for the collar again, but she was hit with a wave of pain. She yanked the leash and fell to the floor convulsing.
Chapter Text
Eyris opened the door and looked at the dark-haired woman inside. She was strong. Eyris knew by now that she would have to operate quickly.
She embraced the Source to weave a gag of Air, but, before she could manage it, the damane opened her eyes.
Trained damane often screamed when they saw her, but this woman simply stared at her curiously. After a moment, she said: "Are you here to free me?"
"Will you fight me if I do?"
"No," Moghedian said. "I have spent years waiting to take my revenge." She placed her hand on Eyris's. "I can free the others."
***
If nothing, being a damane gave Moghedian time to think. And to observe.
Damane did not speak. Damane did not have opinions. But damane went places that most did not, were at meetings that few others would attend. And damane saw other damane. No one else stopped to do so.
A few weeks after she had been taken as a damane, Moghedian had seen a glint in the eye of one of her fellow captives. A day later, she had seen a second glint.
And then Moghedian knew. Semirhage's plan had run deeper than chaos. She'd had Mydrall. She just hadn't gotten the time to activate her army. And Moghedian knew why some damane had been so easy to break.
She held the a'dam in her hand, the collar in pieces, then walked barefoot down the corridor, in the other direction of the woman who had just left. She knew the women she sought out.
"I am Nae'blis," she told the woman in the farthest kennel. "And you will obey me."
The woman bowed to her, and, for the first time in years, Moghedian smiled.
Ripper1337 on Chapter 4 Sat 13 Dec 2025 02:00AM UTC
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RingThroughSpace on Chapter 4 Sat 13 Dec 2025 03:26AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 13 Dec 2025 03:26AM UTC
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