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Under the glow of the rising sun, they sat side by side on the soft banks of the river in front of their bamboo hut. Moiraine’s hand found Siuan’s, fingers intertwining naturally, as if molded to fit together.
“It’s strange,” Moiraine mused, her voice trembling slightly, not just from the crisp air but from the residue of trauma that still clung to her, “to have lost so much, yet somehow, it feels like we’ve gained something far more precious. It feels like a lifetime since it was simply... us.” Siuan watched her lover closely, noting the subtle flinch as a morning breeze brushed past, as if even the wind could reopen her inner wounds.
“Perhaps several lifetimes,” Siuan responded, her gaze drifting back to the reflection of foliage dancing on the water’s surface. “The Wheel is both cruel and kind.”
“And so here we are,” Moiraine whispered, her thumb gently caressing Siuan’s hand in a comforting motion. “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and it has woven our paths back together. That’s my comfort.”
Leaning in, Siuan rested her head on Moiraine’s shoulder. “Indeed, it has. And for that, I’m grateful. Burn me if I’m not grateful every day.”