She awoke at dawn. Bao was lying on his flank, facing her, a hand on her stomach. His eyes opened when he heard her breathing change. "I must leave soon," he said quietly.

"Are you sure I shouldn't be coming with you? You don't know who or what the Guardian is. I understand you must face it alone, but you might need a Healer afterward. You can be sure that if you come out of Rai'lair hurt and weakened, the Ayyad will jump on the opportunity to do away with you."

"They cannot afford to kill me now. If – when – I come out of the Hearttomb, I will be the Wyld. No one will be able to stop me then," he murmured. She had asked him what he hoped to find there, besides this shiny new title. Sakarnen – or D'jedt, as it was known during the Age of Legends – was a sa'angreal designed to channel saidin. Bao claimed it was more powerful than Callandor itself. Once he had a hold on the Sceptre, and provided that he could bring the Ayyad to form a full circle, he would be invincible – or the next thing to it.

As the day when he would depart for Rai'lair approached, he had taken to mutter and rant about Lews Therin more and more often. He was truly obsessed with the other man. She didn't understand how Shendla could believe that he would end up saving the world somehow.

"I will be fine," he went on, almost reassuringly. Well, she was a bit worried. He had spent most his time practicing the sword, mostly with Torn and her – usually against both of them at once – and he had been fasting for days. He meditated whenever he wasn't doing anything else. There was absolutely no indication as to the nature of the Guardian in the Prophecies. For all they knew, it was long dead. It seemed unlikely that anything – or anyone – might have survived this long, living in a cave. Yet she would feel a lot better if he would let her accompany them. Most everyone would be going with him, except for the female Ayyad, although he seemed certain that they would follow at some point, regardless of his orders. He had told them to keep an eye on matters while he was gone, and he expected Neya to keep an eye on them.

"When I come back, I will be formally acknowledged as the Wyld and crowned king," he told her. "We will be ready for the Last Battle. I do not think it will be long now. A few months, maybe weeks. The Pattern is unravelling." There had been other strange occurrences in the last few days. While some were happy coincidences, others had rather dire consequences. It sounded like the sort of events that took place when Rand was about. Maybe the Dragon Reborn's ta'veren nature was getting stronger as the end drew near, strong enough to reach even here. Or maybe Bao himself was ta'veren. She had reflected a lot upon that lately. It would make sense; after all, his campaign to take over Shara had been full of odd circumstances. Maybe, as Lews Therin – Rand – had been chosen to be the Light's champion, Bao was meant to be the Shadow's champion. It would be fitting. The two men had always been rivals. At least, that was how Demandred saw it. She didn't think Lews Therin had ever considered Barid Bel Medar as a rival, but rather as a friend against which he could compete amiably. The Dragon had probably never been aware of Barid Bel's jealousy and increasing scorn until it was too late. How different everything might have turned out if he had.

"I must go," Bao murmured.

She turned to face him, looking into his dark eyes. His hand followed her movement to remain on her belly. It always did. "Be careful. I would hate to be the one to tell that Moridin person that you died fighting some ancient immortal creature in a gloomy cave for an artefact that might not even be there." He had mentioned Moridin when she asked how many of the Forsaken were left, exactly. Apparently, the newcomer had been named Nae'blis for reasons none of his associates could fathom. The Dark One really was a chaotic entity. Still, it appeared that the youth was quite formidable; he had to be, for Bao to even use that word.

"It will be there. It has to be." His tone implied that if the remaining part of the Sceptre was in fact not there, someone, or rather a large part of the population, would suffer for it. "And I am always careful," he added after a pause.

"Be extra careful then." He nodded briefly before extracting himself from the bed. She took a particular care to admire the view as he dressed himself, since he would be gone at least two weeks, maybe more. She wasn't sure why he couldn't simply open a gateway near the entrance of the cave; something to do with the Prophecies, apparently. Shendla said the journey to the River of Souls was part of achieving his transformation as the Wyld. Neya had assumed Bao would dismiss that as a waste of time, but he listened to Shendla and followed her advice as if she had written the Prophecies herself. She got out of the bed and walked up to him. "Make sure to bring back everyone else in one piece as well." She meant the Freed and male Ayyad. The next few weeks were sure to be lonely with all of them gone. At least Nyamukuta would be keeping her company. She was quite fond of the mousy midwife.

"I will." It always amazed her, the way every word he spoke seemed to be an unbreakable vow. He could be so intense, so earnest. And he was so beautiful. Light, how could anyone in their right mind have thought Lews Therin to be better-looking? He moved closer until he loomed over her then leaned forward to kiss her softly, placing his hands around her waist. She was surprised at first; he never did that. And no wonder, she thought amusedly, it must really strain his neck to bend down this low. Slowly, he let go of her. "Take care," he said quietly before turning around. She watched him leave, feeling gloomy. She couldn't wait for all of this to be over.

As the door closed, she put a hand on her belly, as she often did these days, at least as often as Bao did. She had always laughed at pregnant women who did that, but she found it comforting somehow, even though her pregnancy didn't show yet. A few days ago, she had finally asked Bao why he had decided to involve himself with the baby at all. Apparently, Shendla had never mentioned it, so why was he so determined to look after it as if it were his own? "In four hundred years," Neya told him, "you've never had one, nor wanted one, if what I've heard from the others is true. Why are you doing this now? Is it just because of me, because I'm so important to your… quest? Do you think the baby is important too, somehow?"

"I do not know whether it is important or not, but that is irrelevant." She wasn't entirely convinced of that, but she said nothing. "I never felt the urge to have children before, but now…" He looked oddly hesitant. "Now it seems I cannot have children, and you never miss anything so much as when you are denied it."

He had told her before about his theory that none of the Forsaken could have children. "But how can you be so sure about that? Did you try to have one?"

"No, of course not. The idea never once crossed my mind since I turned to the Shadow." He was silent for a long time. "It is all because of you," he said eventually.

That was all the answer she received. It was clear that he wouldn't say anything else on the matter, and she knew better than to press him. As long as he did right by them – provided they both lived long enough to see the child born – she wasn't going to complain.