One day, they were fighting a battle that they thought would be the 'normal' way of events- maybe a Dread lord, or a few Darkhounds, but basically as it always happened. However, Sinead realized that the flows being used to attack them weren't like what the Dreadlords used- with her experience, it was no surprise that she noticed when no one else did. "Forsaken!" She called to Lundren. She was leading a circle and was somewhat safe, but he was alone. "Female." She added unnecessarily.
"It must be Mesaana," the woman behind her commented. A Brown, if she wasn't very much mistaken; a Brown would know the most about that sort of thing. Sinead nodded, and funneled the anger that always came when she fought into making the earth rise up against the Forsaken. She had no time to see what else was happening, only pressed forward. She cut every weave she could, while making the ground roll and boil beneath the enemy's feet, and could only hope that Lundren was actively attacking, because she hadn't a clue what he was doing.
She heard a high-pitched scream, and one of the women in the circle just-disappeared. Not physically, but she wasn't linked anymore, and that could only mean one thing, if the woman was still alive. The shock of it reverberated through all twelve of the remaining women, and Sinead nearly doubled over to vomit before collecting herself. She assigned two of the other Aes Sedai to get the burnt-out Aes Sedai to safety, then continued on. Fire flared from her hands, and the black lightening that she always used reached out tendrils like mashadar, attaching themselves to Shadowspawn and Darkfriends alike. It didn't release its prey until they collapsed- more often than not a charred corpse in a silvery coating that had once been their armor.
"There!" Sinead called, and pointed. Fire streaked from her fingers, and cleared a way through the troops ahead of them. The woman standing there simply stared at them for a moment then wove something that Sinead knew would be nasty. She cut it through as she advanced, and the woman's eyes narrowed. Definitely Mesaana; Semirhage, she was to understand, was quite dark, Lanfear and Graendal were beautiful, as well as cautious, and Moghedian would never have attacked openly, according to the chatter of the Brown.
"You wish to fight, Aes Sedai?" The Forsaken asked, smiling slightly, and abruptly it was just the three of them…Sinead, Lundren, and Mesaana. The other Aes Sedai were there, but forgotten. Sinead wove more Earthfire, and directed it through the ground, waves of red-hot earth rippling toward Mesaana. They disappeared as if they'd never existed, and she wove again, with the same result. A fountain of dirt and fire roared up behind the woman, and she stumbled slightly; that had to be Lundren's work. "I take it you do. Naughty children."
The Forsaken's attention was on Lundren; Sinead might as well have been a stone in the way. In one direction, Lundren was channeling for all he was worth, or so she assumed, and it was not enough; red lines appeared on his face, on his arms, the flows that Sinead could not cut slashing across his skin. In the other, Mesaana stood, serene and so sure of herself that Sinead longed to slap some humanity into her.
"Burn you!" She screamed, losing her temper as Lundren's blood sheeted down his body and she was unable to stop it, even with the power of the circle she controlled. "May you burn in the fires of Shayol Ghul…" she stopped cursing abruptly, turning her concentration instead to stopping the flows Mesaana had just thrown at her, managing to slice them through with an awkwardness that even she felt. The Forsaken turned cool eyes on her, and Sinead settled herself, channeling Earth and Fire and Air together into a molten ball of liquid earth and lightening that hovered over her hand, a rapidly growing globe of pure death. The weave seemed to startle the woman; she narrowed her eyes at any rate, and raised her hands. Sinead blanched at what she was weaving, but couldn't cut her own flows to stop it. "Lundren!" She called, "she's making balefire!" She completed the weave and tossed it at Mesaana, feeling the invisible tugging at the woman's flows that meant Lundren was trying to cut them.
The Earthfire she'd created should have destroyed their opponent in a moment, but it struck a shield of air, and molten earth spattered in every direction. But the lightening arced over the dome the woman had created around herself, showing them both exactly where her shields were. It danced and flicked over the invisible wall, and Sinead set herself to picking through it.
"Children these days," the woman said, her voice rolling over the field, obviously amplified. "Weren't you ever taught to respect your elders?" And she let loose the balefire neither of them had been able to stop, searing across Sinead's vision towards Lundren. For the longest moment of Sinead's life, her lover was outlined in the cold white light of balefire. And then, in a shower of sparks, he -and the weave- vanished entirely.
Something akin to the pain she had felt at Lasana's death blossomed in her breast, save multiplied tenfold. She lost all sense of what was up or down, her ears ringing, and she fell to her knees in front of this Chosen of the Dark One, her eyes seeing absolutely nothing as she stared at the ground, her fingers digging into the dusty soil. Light illumine and protect him…may the last embrace of the mother welcome him home… She thought, but she knew, if she lived past that day, she would never forget what she had seen. Oh Light…balefired… Full realization of what the Forsaken had done hit her. Because of Mesaana, Lundren was gone from the Pattern permanently. Because of her, the Wheel could spin forever and she would never see his face again…not in this life, or another.
Never again. She staggered to her feet, forcing her knees not to collapse from beneath her, her hands extending shakily as she wove all Five Powers together using the full power of the circle. Abruptly she felt strength pouring into her and frowned. It took her several minutes to remember Gabriell, to realize that he had felt her pain and knew she needed help. She took his strength gratefully, and continued to weave, the flows building, and building, and building. Her eyes found Mesaana's, daring her to even attempt to cut the flows she controlled.
Mesaana dared. Sinead had forgotten that she did not control a circle of thirteen anymore; with just twelve, and all of them exhausted, they were vulnerable. The woman struck, and abruptly the circle shattered, the women within, all but Sinead, doubling over, clutching their heads and shrieking in pain. "I have often wondered why pain teaches better than any other method," Mesaana commented, watching Sinead's companions with cool eyes. "Perhaps, when my Master breaks free, I will look into the matter further."
"Light burn you," was Sinead's sole comment, and it contained all the hatred she had ever felt in her entire life, multiplied ten, no, a hundred times. She stood alone against one of the Forsaken, her strength already greatly weakened, and abruptly she knew -and accepted- that she wasn't going to live. But she wasn't going to lose, either. She reached out to Gabriell, and felt his own acceptance of death, as well. Mere seconds passed, then abruptly he was beside her, fancloth swirling, his face covered in soot and his sword in his right hand. "For Lasana," Sinead whispered, taking his left, and walked forward, towards Mesaana. "For Lasana, and all who have fallen in this battle."
And as he attacked physically, she unleashed everything she had, all the strength she could draw up, until she was using more of the Power than she could ever handle, even with the aid of her sa'angreal, more than even Mesaana could hope to control with it. Light filled her, seeped through her every pore, flowed through her veins. She felt it swelling inside her, the pain almost nonexistent compared to the sweetness of the Source's embrace, and then she directed it at the Forsaken. She heard a scream of agony, and had time for one burst of proud exhilaration. Then abruptly all feeling was gone.
The Light was singing to her, and she had to follow its song.
