Fanfic:Three Steps Into Darkness
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It had been two days since Mirin became an Aes Sedai.
Each time she stepped into her new quarters, she had to pinch herself to check if she was dreaming. As a novice, she had shared a cramped room with Betrys; living alone in an Accepted’s single room had been better, but not by much. Now, however, her rooms consisted of a spacious bedchamber, a large sitting room, a dressing room, and a study. She hardly knew what to do with all the space.
The fireplaces were made from carved marble and the wall panels were smooth and polished. The furniture, although well made and sturdy, was not quite to her taste, but that would be quickly remedied. She had already sent for catalogues from various furniture makers and was waiting for them to arrive. After all, as a new sister, she did have a thousand gold crowns to spend, provided by the Tower.
The Tower had also prepared four dresses for her, made of fine blue wool, plain but well cut. Mirin wore one of these now, although she planned on visiting a seamstress soon to order a proper wardrobe. When she looked in the mirror, she almost didn’t recognize herself. She had dressed in white for far too long.
These two days had been filled with lessons. Mirin was startled to learn that the method of ignoring heat or cold was simply a trick of mental concentration. She also learned of the traditions of the Blue Ajah, its political relations with other Ajahs, as well as secret weaves with the One Power. There was so much to learn, and so little time.
She worked as hard – no, even harder, than she had as an Accepted. Each night, she went to bed exhausted.
Mirin jerked awake. She had no time to speak before rough hands dragged her out of bed. She felt a sensation of saidar being woven – Spirit, Water, and Air – but she could not see the weave. Then everything went black.
She was naked when she regained consciousness. Tight, uncomfortable ropes bound her hands, and her feet were freezing on the cold stone floor. She did not recognize the room. It was dark, small, and musty. There were three hooded figures standing before her – and she could feel another gripping her arm. She had been expecting this moment since she gained the shawl. Yet she still felt afraid. She desperately wanted to reach for the Power for comfort, but she did not dare. It would be fruitless, she knew, and would perhaps cause her captors to cause her more pain.
The hooded figures were of varying heights. Two were tall and broad enough to be men. Despite herself, she blushed, embarrassed by her nakedness.
The hand on her arm forced her to kneel. A mirror was brought before her, and a knife pressed to her throat. Her mouth suddenly went dry. She had no doubt that they would spill her blood without hesitation. She stared at her reflection, marveling at how pale and small she looked. Pathetic, she thought. She hated herself for her fear, and trembled.
One of the men spoke harshly. His words sounded more like a demand than a question. “Do you wish to join the Black Ajah?”
She did not hesitate. “Yes,” she answered.
The knife and mirror were removed and she breathed a sigh of relief. But the relief did not last long. A smooth object was shoved into her hands. The Oath Rod. One of the women embraced the Source and channeled a thread of Spirit into the Rod.
“Forswear all oaths that bind you,” the man commanded.
“I forswear all oaths that bind me.”
She did not expect the sudden pain. Fire burned her skin and filled her bones. Her mind was filled with agony. She screamed until there was no breath left in her, then pulled in air only to scream again. Vaguely, she felt her back arch and her arms and legs flail about. Every muscle clenched. Her whole body jerked wildly. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
As quickly as it had begun, the pain stopped. Mirin collapsed, panting with exertion. The Oath Rod rolled across the floor. One of the figures picked it up and returned it to Mirin’s hand, forcing her fingers closed, and then commanded her to repeat the Dark Oaths.
“I shall obey all commands given by those placed above me in service to the Great Lord.”
Her voice was hoarse from screaming. Once again, just as she had during the raising ceremony, she felt the light pressure of the Oaths settle over her skin. Her entire body ached. Her arms and legs felt bruised from where they had hit the floor.
“I shall prepare for the day of the Great Lord’s return.”
The pressure increased. Tears filled her eyes.
“I shall hold close the secrets of the Black Ajah, unto the hour of my death.”
The oaths squeezed her tightly. Her skin felt three sizes too small. She could not hold back a moan, and tears trickled down her face. A hooded figure stepped closer. She attempted to rise, but could not summon the strength, and remained huddled on the cold floor, naked and in pain, burning with shame.
“You were watched as an Accepted and given minor tasks,” the man said. “But your true tests begin today. You will be tested for a year and a day, to prove your worth. Listen carefully.”
He began issuing instructions, quickly and precisely. Mirin strained to keep up. She pushed through her haze of pain, paying strict attention to every word. She did not want to fail. Punishment could be severe.
Finally, he came to the end of the list. “And Mirin? One last thing,” he said. “Welcome home, sister. We have waited long for you.”
The hooded figures laughed ironically. Then, Mirin sensed one of the women channeling. The weave sent her into a dreamless sleep.
She woke the next morning and stared up at the ceiling. Had it been a dream?
“Black is white. Up is down. My hair is blonde.” Her voice rose in excitement as she tested her new ability to lie. She sat up stiffly. Somehow, she made it out of bed without falling. She staggered to her mirror and gasped.
Bruises covered her body. She dressed slowly, and then carefully covered her shoulders with her shawl. For the marks that could not be covered by clothing, she dabbed on concealing makeup. She looked again in the mirror and examined her appearance, thumbing the corner of her shawl. Mirin rarely went out without her shawl – new sisters rarely did. It marked her as a new member of the Blue Ajah.
Then, she smiled cruelly.
She was no longer of the Blue. Now, she was Mirin Ronaile, a sister of the Black Ajah. A feeling of excitement rose up within her. This moment had been long awaited. She was finally ready to serve the Great Lord of the Dark.
