New God(wheel of time)

Chapter 32: The Gift of Endurance

The road stretched long and winding ahead of them, the land growing more barren as they traveled westward. Shadows clung to the edges of the world, whispers of unseen dangers lurking beyond sight. Yet within their small company, another kind of tension brewed—one unspoken yet undeniable.

Moraine's mind was a storm.

Eryndor was not an Aes Sedai. He did not touch the One Power. And yet, she had seen him create. From nothing, with no channeling, no visible effort. A sword for Lan, wrought of something beyond mere steel. A weapon that could resist weaves, that could make a man stronger.

That should have been impossible.

And yet…

Her gaze flickered toward him as he walked beside her. He was silent, contemplative as ever, his presence a quiet gravity that anchored those around him.

And then there was the matter of his invulnerability.

She had not forgotten.

No blade, no weave, no force she had seen had yet to so much as scratch him.

What was he?

The fire crackled low that night as they made camp. Lan sat at the edge of their small circle, ever watchful, his new sword Torasúl resting beside him. Moraine, seated on a fallen log, traced a finger absently over the embroidered hem of her cloak, her thoughts elsewhere.

Eryndor was still.

But she could feel something in him shifting. A quiet pulse of energy, a ripple of something just beyond perception.

He stood abruptly.

Moraine lifted her gaze as he moved to stand before her. There was something resolute in his stance, something decisive.

"I have something for you," he said.

Her brow furrowed. "For me?"

He extended a hand, palm up.

And then, as before, the world responded.

The air thickened, charged with something ancient and undeniable. The firelight dimmed, the space around them humming with quiet, restrained power.

A glow began to form just above his palm—soft, silvery, like liquid starlight taking shape. Moraine inhaled sharply, unable to look away as the radiance condensed, solidified, shifting and twisting like something alive.

Then, it was there.

A bracelet.

It was beautiful in a way that defied explanation, its surface gleaming with a metallic sheen unlike any metal she had ever seen. Delicate, yet indestructible. A single blue gemstone rested at its center, its depths swirling with an inner light, as if it contained the vastness of the sky itself.

Eryndor met her eyes. "Wear this, and no wound shall ever take you."

Moraine's breath caught.

He reached for her wrist, pausing just long enough for her to pull away if she wished. But she did not. She allowed him to slip the bracelet onto her arm, the cool metal settling against her skin like a whisper of eternity.

And then she felt it.

A pulse of something vast and unknowable, sinking into her very being.

It was not the One Power. It was not magic. It was something else entirely.

A promise.

A bond.

Eryndor's voice was low but firm. "No wound, whether by steel, the Power, or shadow, will ever claim you while you wear this."

Moraine was not a woman given to awe. She had seen wonders beyond imagining, faced horrors that would break lesser minds. But this…

This was something beyond the Pattern itself.

Her fingers tightened around the bracelet. "This is not a simple trinket."

"No," Eryndor agreed. "It is my will made manifest. And it is yours."

The words settled between them, heavier than they should have been.

Moraine forced herself to look away, to school her expression into something composed. But the weight of the gift—the meaning behind it—was not lost on her.

Lan, ever the observer, gave Eryndor a measuring look. "You are full of surprises."

Eryndor merely smiled, but there was something unshakable in his gaze.

The fire crackled between them, but the night had irrevocably changed.

And in the quiet, Moraine curled her fingers around the bracelet, the cool metal thrumming against her skin, and she knew—whether she willed it or not—her fate was now forever bound to his.