New God(wheel of time)

Chapter 33: Unbreakable Bonds

The night stretched on, the fire burning low, casting flickering shadows against the trees. The weight of Eryndor's gift still lingered on Moraine's wrist, a silent promise neither of them spoke of. The others had settled for the night—Lan remained on watch, ever-vigilant, while the others sought what little rest the road would allow.

Moraine, however, could not sleep.

Her fingers traced the smooth surface of the bracelet, the gemstone cool beneath her touch. It should have been impossible. It was impossible. No Aes Sedai, no man, no being of this world could create something like this. A weave could heal, yes, but this? This was absolute.

She turned her gaze to Eryndor, who sat some distance away, eyes closed as if lost in deep thought—or perhaps something beyond thought. He did not sleep, not as others did, but rested in a way that was wholly his own.

He was unlike anything she had ever encountered. And she was beginning to understand just how little they truly knew of him.

As if sensing her scrutiny, his eyes opened—glowing faintly in the dim light. "You have questions."

Moraine did not deny it. "You do things no Aes Sedai, no Forsaken, no being I have ever read about can do." She lifted her wrist. "This is not the One Power. This is not even saidar or saidin. What is it?"

Eryndor studied her for a long moment before speaking. "It is me."

She frowned. "That is not an answer."

A small smile touched his lips. "It is the only one I can give."

Moraine exhaled, frustration tightening her jaw. He was an enigma wrapped in power, a mystery that defied all logic. And yet, she could not ignore the truth—he was on their side.

And that, perhaps, was the most important thing of all.

"Sleep, Moraine," he said softly. "You will need your strength."

She almost argued. Almost. But something in his voice, in his presence, made resistance seem foolish. She settled back against her bedroll, still uneasy, but for the first time in a long time, she felt… safe.

Not because of Lan's watchful presence.

Not because of her own power.

But because of him.

And that, more than anything, was what unsettled her most of all.

The Next MorningThe sun broke through the treetops in golden streaks, the morning air crisp with the scent of damp earth. The party broke camp quickly, moving with quiet efficiency. They had learned by now that the road would not wait for them.

Lan adjusted his sword belt, the weight of Torasúl balanced perfectly at his hip. The weapon had become an extension of him in only a matter of days—proof of its perfect craftsmanship. Or, more likely, proof that it was no mere blade.

Moraine watched Eryndor as they walked, his movements effortlessly smooth, unbothered by the journey. There was no strain in him, no weariness, as if the road itself bent to his will.

It should not be possible.

And yet, she was learning that the rules of the world did not always apply to him.

They had only been on the road for a short time when Eryndor stopped. His gaze lifted toward the sky, eyes narrowing slightly.

Lan was at his side in an instant. "What is it?"

A ripple of something unseen pulsed through the air, so subtle Moraine almost missed it.

Eryndor's expression remained unreadable. "We are being watched."

The others tensed immediately. Lan's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his stance shifting into one of practiced readiness. Moraine felt her own pulse quicken as she reached for saidar, letting it flow through her, preparing for whatever was coming.

Silence stretched between them. The wind stirred the leaves, the trees whispering secrets too soft to hear.

Then—

A rustle in the underbrush.

A blur of movement.

And from the shadows, a pair of golden eyes emerged.

Moraine's breath caught. It was a man—tall, lean, his features sharp and feral. But his eyes… they glowed with an unnatural light, something neither human nor entirely beast.

Lan stiffened. "A Wolfbrother."

The man stepped forward, his gaze fixed not on Lan, nor Moraine, but on Eryndor.

And then, to their shock—

He knelt.

A deep, reverent bow.

Eryndor regarded him in silence before speaking. "You are not here by chance."

The Wolfbrother nodded. "I was called." His voice was low, rough like the wind through the trees. "Not by words. Not by command. But by something greater." His golden eyes burned with something unreadable. "By you."

Moraine's mind reeled.

This was no coincidence.

Eryndor was calling something. Drawing things to him like the pull of the tide. And for the first time, she truly began to wonder—

Just how much of the Pattern would change because of him?