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There is a sword in her gut and fire in her veins and the sun is a molten gold ball in the sky.
Light, it hurts. She is not sure she has ever felt pain as bad as this, not even the Trolloc wound to her shoulder had hurt as much, or being cut off from saidar, even if that second one came close.
She sees flickers of saidar, coils of silver unspooling from her soul, drifting upward, dissipating in the merciless heat like dew in the morning’s sun on a meadow.
No, no, no. Light, no.
There is a keening wounded animal screaming Siuan’s name into the dessert. That wounded animal sound is coming from herself, Moiraine realises.
The Forsaken is in front of her, dressed in black leather colored with night itself, a dress as dark as her name, eyes as crazed as any saidin-tainted man Moiraine had ever seen. Her smile is ice.
“You are about to die and call out for the woman who betrayed you?” Lanfear’s voice is a lioness’s satisfied purr, pouncing forward, giddy for the kill.
Somewhere, dully, muted by the pain and agony inside her, she feels Lan behind her, dazed. His pain is a fraction of her own, only a tiny splinter of the knife piercing her heart.
Again and again until we get it right.
Not in this lifetime, then.
Siuan is dead.
What was lost and what is yet to be saved?
Light, Siuan is dead.
Every particle around Moiraine congeals like unseen weaves, pushing her down into despair.
Siuan is dead.
Moiraine is probably dying herself and for a wonder she is not paralysed, despite the metal having skewered her cleanly front to back.
…. Until we get it right.
Maybe, if the Pattern is kind, she will join Siuan soon. But soon, and not quite yet.
Because she is of the Blue, dedicated to causes and her cause, her life, is to help the Dragon Reborn reach the Last Battle.
There is a sword in her gut and fire in her veins and the sun is a molten gold ball in the sky and her wife is dead.
Lanfear’s laugh rings over the dessert sand like death knells.
Moiraine grits her teeth, saidar filling her to the brim, golden swirls of Power called from the dessert heat around her.
She pulls the fiery sword from her bleeding gut and goes for the throat.