Sia Ludei Adasora

Sia was known to be studious, sensible, and was a natural mediator who thrived during the Age of Legends. Knowledge always delighted her, and she had a startling capacity for remembering faces and facts. In her early years her interests took her into work that strove to preserve and share the riches of the world’s libraries and museums, and she often engaged with artists and academics rather than the powers which shaped the world around them (though she greatly admired those people from a distance). She was naturally introverted, though by no means shy, and as a result many of her early accomplishments were overlooked. She never seemed to mind.

It was through a chance meeting with Alethea Sayre that Sia’s work broadened into what would one day earn her a third name. She had gone to the Aes Sedai primarily for a concern over strange dreams, which Alethea had surprised herself by not being able to explain. In fact the look she had given Sia had been so curious Sia had declined further investigation into the oddity. They maintained a somewhat inconstant friendship afterwards, though, and it was through Alethea’s work rehabilitating criminals that Sia began to realise the utopian world she perceived was not as pure as she had always thought.

Her work began to shift into philanthropy and advocacy, in particular focusing on ways in which the One Power could be harnessed and used by those who did not naturally have the gift, and so continue to improve the lives of all. Her natural talent for organisation, record keeping and preference for order made her highly successful at the work. She was skilled at coordinating ajahs and mediating the complexities of lots of different people working together in order to achieve the best outcomes, and she found each new project tirelessly rewarding, though it was to the detriment of any social life. Her third name only came after years of hard work. It was Adasora, meaning life is dear.

She had on occasion met Durrick before then, for they shared a love of the city’s sculptured gardens and sometimes saw one another in passing there. He had always been a charming conversationalist, but he was also never short of admirers, and attraction was never at the forefront of Sia’s mind. Though she never thought anything of it, it was only after her accolade that he began a courtship. She remembers being surprised by the attention at the time, but also receptive, fascinated by his work, and keen to offer her collaboration. Even after he kissed her knuckles when he asked her to dinner she quite naturally assumed he meant to discuss business.

They became a couple quite famed for how well everyone thought they matched. Their life together was refined, charming, and from the outside enviously perfect. Eventually they were married.

Given their respective work and duties they were often busy. Home was the place they convened, but the spheres of their work still required ample devotion, so an empty house was not unusual. Ever efficient, Sia often helped organise his diary and appointments, or indexed their hothouse of orchids as ways of showing her affection. She always added a new variety to his collection at each of their anniversaries, and the care was always specific. They were so difficult to keep alive.

She never noticed the quieter sides of him. His philosophical quandaries seemed like the pains of a thoughtful thinker beset by his conscience rather than the ghostly shadows of a truer despair. Sia always engaged the conversation honestly, but it was also always to soothe his mind – with her presence, with her kindness, and with her assurances that he was a good man. She was sensible, steadfast and dutiful as a wife. But she never saw Durrick for anyone but a man who cared deeply about the world around him, a vision she shared without ever recognising how hollow he found it.

The Collapse

When the Bore was drilled and the explosion of it rained from the sky, Sia abandoned the day’s work and went immediately in search of him. They had been married for some time by then but she had never actually considered she might love him before that moment.

As the consequences slowly became clear and the Collapse began, she was rallied to the cause of protecting and preserving their world. What she valued above all was peace, and for all her decidedly mild nature, she was never fearful of the sacrifices war might demand from her. She was drawn to serve the Hall, to offer herself however she may best assist. Her amiable nature was impervious to the politicking; she often spoke sense when others were drawn into the old patterns of allegiances and rivalries. The Collapse, terrible though it was, brought something brilliant out in her.

The Betrayal

She never suspected Durrick of duplicity, let alone of having sworn himself to the Shadow. She found out the same day as everyone else; when he finally declared himself loyal to the Dark One.

When she arrived home, numb and in shock, there were Aes Sedai waiting to detain her. She had half expected Durrick to already be there, waiting patiently to explain himself. But there was only a familiar silence. When they asked her to follow, such was her surprise and pain she did not resist. It was an uncomfortable meeting, held in an office of the Hall and conducted by people she called colleagues. They wanted to know if she had known or suspected Durrick’s allegiances. Then they asked her to swear her loyalty to the Light. She did, with no hesitation. That was all. In those days they were all still naive to the insidiousness of true evil. In those days Durrick himself would have been the one called on to mediate such an unusual case.

The trust was never mended. It was not the last time Sia was interrogated, though it was probably the kindest. In short time it was clear Durrick was not just a sworn enemy, but one of the Dark One’s foremost Generals in the war, a position of great honour. Clearly his betrayal ran deeply, and clearly Sia was foolish or lying to claim she knew nothing about it. She was his wife for more than a century. It seemed impossible she could know nothing.

Her working life was unravelled in search of her own potential deception, a cruelty that perhaps broke her heart more than Durrick’s treachery. Eventually she was asked to swear fealty to the Dragon on the rod usually reserved for convicted criminals, and to do so before the entire Hall of Servants.

She carried great shame for the rest of her life. Guilt that she had allowed Durrick to fall so far, or perhaps worse, that she had inadvertently driven him to it.

She dedicated herself to service in what remained of her life, and never broke her oaths to the Light, or to the Dragon. Neither did she ever betray Durrick. There was nothing for her to reveal.

In her final years she was among the Aes Sedai to assist Solindra in organising the great wagons full of angreal, ter’angreal, sa’angreal and Chora tree cuttings which the Da’shain were to flee with. It was an enormous project, and haste was necessary. She worked with habitual efficiency, but by then she was a shadow of the woman she had been; it gave her no joy to witness the end of their way of life. When plans for the Eye were brought before the Hall, she was among the dwindling Aes Sedai remaining who volunteered to give her life in its creation. It was her final act of restitution.

Other Turns of the Wheel

1st Age: Lore Dearborn

3rd Age: Calathea Mavronéri

5th Age: Ennoia

6th Age: Arke