Navani walked over to Raboniel. “You wanted a way to end it,” she said. “You don’t care who wins.”

“I care,” Raboniel whispered. “I want … the singers to win. But your side … winning … is better than … than…”

“Than the war continuing forever,” Navani said.

Raboniel nodded, her eyes closed. “Go. Run. Vyre will—”

Navani looked up as a blur flashed in the hallway, reflecting light. A thump hit her chest, and she grunted at the impact, stunned—briefly—before pain began to wash through her body. Sharp and alarming.

A knife, she thought, befuddled to see the hilt of a throwing knife sticking from the side of her torso, next to her right breast. When she took a breath, the pain sharpened with a sudden spike.

She looked up, pressing her hand to the wound, feeling warm blood spill out. At the far end of the hallway, a figure in a black uniform walked slowly forward. A Shardblade appeared in his hand. The assassin’s Blade.

Moash had returned.

Highmarshal Kaladin was dead.

* * *

Venli watched the human, so consumed by his grief that he knelt there, motionless, for minutes on end. And they all watched. Silent Heavenly Ones. Solemn guards. Disbelieving humans. No one seemed to want to speak, or even breathe.

That was how Venli should have felt upon losing her sister. Why didn’t she have the emotions of a normal person? She’d been sad, but she didn’t think she’d ever been so overcome by grief that she acted like Stormblessed.

Timbre pulsed comfortingly inside her. Everyone was different. And Venli was on the right path.

Except … there wasn’t really a point in returning to help now, was there? It was over. Beside her, Leshwi descended until her feet touched the ground, then she bowed her head.

Show her, Timbre pulsed. What you are.

“What? Now?”

Show her.

Reveal what she was, in front of everyone? Venli shrank at the thought, attuning the Terrors.

One by one the other Heavenly Ones touched down, as if in respect. For an enemy.

“This is stupidity,” the Pursuer said, shoving Lirin into Leshwi’s hands. “I can’t believe we’re all just standing here.”

Leshwi looked up from her vigil, humming to Spite. Then, amazingly, she pulled out a knife and cut Lirin’s hands free.

“I have not forgotten how you tried to turn the Nine against me,” the Pursuer said, pointing at Leshwi. “You seek to destroy my legacy.”

“Your legacy is dead, Defeated One,” Leshwi said. “It died when you ran from him.”

“My legacy is untouched!” the Pursuer roared, causing Venli to stumble back, afraid. “And this is complete madness! I will prove myself and continue my tradition!”

“No!” Leshwi said, passing the still-gagged human to one of the other Heavenly Ones. She grabbed the Pursuer, but he left a husk in her hand, exploding out as a ribbon of light to cross the atrium floor.

“No…” Venli whispered.

The Pursuer appeared above Stormblessed. The Fused yanked a sharpened carapace spur off his arm, then—holding it like a dagger—he grabbed the kneeling man by one shoulder.

Kaladin Stormblessed looked up and let loose a howl that seemed to vibrate with a hundred discordant rhythms. Venli attuned the Lost in return.

The Pursuer stabbed, but Stormblessed grabbed his arm and turned, becoming a blur of motion. He somehow twisted around so he was behind the Pursuer, then found a knife somewhere on his person—moving with such speed that Venli had trouble tracking him. Stormblessed slammed the knife at the Pursuer’s neck, who barely ejected from the husk in time.

He re-formed and tried to grab Stormblessed again. But there was no contest now. Kaladin moved like the wind, fast and flowing as he rammed his dagger through the Pursuer’s arm, causing him to shout in pain. A knife toward the face followed, and the Pursuer ejected yet again. No one chanted or shouted this time, but when Stormblessed turned around, Venli saw his face—and she immediately attuned the Terrors.

His eyes were glowing like a Radiant’s, his face a mask of pain and anguish, but the eyes … she swore the light had a yellowish-red cast to it. Like … like …

The Pursuer appeared near the soldiers at the perimeter by the wall. “Go!” he shouted to his men. “Attack him! Kill him, and then kill the other Radiants! Your orders are chaos and death!”

The Pursuer charged forward. The soldiers followed, then shied away. They wouldn’t face Stormblessed and those eyes of his, so the Pursuer was left with no choice but to engage. Venli didn’t know if he realized, but he was on his final body. Perhaps he knew he couldn’t run this time, not and salvage any kind of reputation.

Stormblessed dashed to him, and they met near the vast window, flashing with lightning. The Pursuer tried to grab him, and Kaladin welcomed it, folding into the deadly embrace—then expertly slamming them both up against the window. Kaladin pressed the Pursuer to the glass—the storm outside flashed, shaking the tower, vibrating it and splashing it with light.

In that moment, Kaladin did something to the window. As he stepped back, he left the Pursuer stuck to the glass, immobilized and lacking the Voidlight to eject his soul. Kaladin didn’t attack. Instead he reached down and infused the ground, but with power that didn’t glow as strong as she thought it should.

The Pursuer’s head … it was pulling forward against his neck, his eyes bulging. He groaned, and Venli realized that Stormblessed had infused the ground, then made it pull on the Pursuer’s head. But his body was stuck to the wall.

Kaladin turned and strode toward the watching Heavenly Ones as the Pursuer’s head ripped from his body and slammed to the floor with a crunch.

“Stormblessed,” Leshwi said, stepping out to meet him. “You have fought and won. Your loss is powerful, I know, as mortals are—”

Kaladin shoved her aside. He was coming for Venli, she was sure of it. She braced herself, but he stalked past her, leaving her trembling to the Terrors. Instead Kaladin strode for the Heavenly One who was holding his father. Of course.

That Heavenly One panicked as any would. She shot off into the air, carrying the man. Two other Heavenly Ones followed.

Stormblessed looked up, then launched into the air using the strange fabrial that mimicked the Lashings.

Venli slumped to the ground, feeling worn out, though she hadn’t done anything. At least it seemed to be over.

But not for the soldiers from the Pursuer’s personal army, who gathered around his corpse. Dead a second time, to the same man. His reputation might be in shambles, but he was still Fused. He would return.

The soldiers turned toward the infirmary, remembering his last orders. They couldn’t kill Stormblessed.

But they could finish off the invalid Radiants.

* * *

Kaladin could barely see straight. He had only a vague memory of killing the Pursuer. He knew he’d done it, but remembering was hard. Thinking was hard.

He soared upward, chasing the creatures who had taken his father. He heard Lirin’s shouts echoing from above, so he’d gotten his gag off. Each sound condemned Kaladin.

He didn’t actually believe he could save his father. It was as if Lirin was already dead, and was screaming at Kaladin from Damnation. Kaladin wasn’t exactly certain why he followed, but he had to get up high. Perhaps … perhaps he could see better from up high.…