She still had questions. Things about her past didn’t completely align yet, though her memory was no longer full of holes. There was much they didn’t understand. For example, she was certain that, during the years between killing Testament and finding Pattern, her powers had still functioned in some small ways.

Some of this, Kelek said, had to do with the nature of deadeyes. Before the Recreance, they had never existed. Kelek said he thought this was why Mraize was hunting him. Something to do with the fall of the singers, and the Knights Radiant, so long ago—and the imprisoning of a specific spren.

“Contact Mraize please, spren,” she whispered to the ball of light. “It is time.”

The ball floated into the air, and the next part took barely a moment. The globe of light shifted to make a version of his face speaking to her. “Little knife,” the face said in Mraize’s voice. “I trust the deed has been done?”

“I did it,” Shallan said. “It hurt so much. But she is gone.”

“Excellent. That … She, little knife?”

“Veil and I are one now, Mraize,” Shallan said, resting her hand on her notebook—which contained the fascinating things Kelek had told her about other worlds, other planets. Places he desperately wished to see.

Like the other Heralds, Kelek wasn’t entirely stable. He was unable to commit to ideas or plans. However, to one thing he had committed: He wanted off Roshar. He was convinced that Odium would soon take over the world completely and restart torturing all the Heralds. Kelek would do practically anything to escape that fate.

There was a long pause from Mraize. “Shallan,” he finally said, “we do not move against other Ghostbloods.”

“I’m not one of the Ghostbloods,” Shallan said. “None of us ever were, not fully. And now we are stepping away.”

“Don’t do this. Think of the cost.”

“My brothers? Is that what you’re referencing? You must know by now that they are no longer in the tower, Mraize. Pattern and Wit got them out before the occupation even occurred. Thank you for this seon, by the way. Wit says that unbound ones are difficult to come by—but they make for extremely handy communication across realms.”

“You will never have your answers, Shallan.”

“I have what I need, thank you very much,” she said as Adolin put a comforting hand on hers. “I’ve been speaking to Kelek, the Herald. He seems to think the reason you’re hunting him is because of an Unmade. Ba-Ado-Mishram? The one who Connected to the singers long ago, giving them forms of power? The one who, when trapped, stole the singers’ minds and made them into parshmen?

“Why do you want the gemstone that holds Ba-Ado-Mishram, Mraize? What are you intending to do with it? What power do the Ghostbloods seek with a thing that can bind the minds of an entire people?”

Mraize didn’t respond. The seon, imitating his face, hovered in place. Expressionless.

“I’ll be returning to the tower soon,” Shallan said. “Along with those honorspren who have decided—in light of recent revelations—to bond with humans. When I do, I expect to find you and yours gone. Perhaps if you cover yourself well, I won’t be able to track you down. Either way, I am going to find that gemstone before you do. And if you get in my way … well, it will be a fun hunt. Wouldn’t you say?”

“This will not end well for you, Shallan,” Mraize said. “You make an enemy of the most powerful organization in all the cosmere.”

“I think we can handle you.”

“Perhaps. Can you handle my master? Can you handle her master?”

“Thaidakar?” Shallan guessed.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of him?”

“The Lord of Scars, Wit calls him. Well, when you next meet this Lord of Scars, give him a message from me.”

“He comes here in avatar only,” Mraize said. “We are too far beneath his level to be worthy of more.”

“Then tell his avatar something for me. Tell him … we’re done with his meddling. His influence over my people is finished.” She hesitated, then sighed. Wit had asked nicely. “Also, Wit says to tell him, ‘Deal with your own stupid planet, you idiot. Don’t make me come over there and slap you around again.’”

“So it must be,” Mraize said. “Know that in doing this, you have moved against the Ghostbloods in the most offensive of ways. We are now at war, Shallan.”

“You’ve always been at war,” Shallan said. “I’ve finally picked a side. Goodbye, Mraize. End contact.”

The floating spren molded into a globe instead of Mraize’s face. Shallan sat back, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

“Whoever they are,” Adolin said, “we can handle them.”

Ever optimistic. Well, he had good reason. With the leaders of the honorspren in disgrace, and Lasting Integrity open again to all who would visit, he had accomplished his mission. He’d been correct all along, both about the honorspren and about Shallan herself.

Shallan reached forward and flipped to the next page in her notebook, where she’d done a drawing using Kelek’s descriptions. It showed a pattern of stars in the sky, and listed the many worlds among them.

Shallan had kept her head down too long. It was time to soar.

* * *

The listeners raised bows toward Venli as she walked up to their camp, alone, after insisting that the others stay back a few hundred feet.

She didn’t blame the listeners for turning weapons against her. They assumed she had come to finish the job she’d started. So she raised her hands and hummed to Peace, waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Finally, Thude himself emerged from behind their fortification of piled rocks. Storms, it was good to see him. By the counts they’d done from the air, almost all of them must have made it through the narrows and out this side. A thousand listener adults, along with many children.

Thude approached, wearing warform, but he stopped short of striking range. Venli continued to stand and hum, feeling a hundred bows focused on her. This eastern plain beyond the hills was a strange place—so open, and full of a surprising amount of grass.

“Storms. Venli?” Thude turned to dash back behind the fortifications.

She realized he must have just now seen her patterns. She was wearing a form he’d never known, so of course he hadn’t recognized her from a distance. “Thude!” she called out, taking in enough Stormlight to glow in the daylight. “Thude, please!”

He stopped, seeing her Light.

“Did my mother make it?” she asked to Longing. “Is she alive?”

“She is,” he called. “But her mind is gone.”

“I think I might have a way to heal her.”

“Traitor,” he shouted. “You think I believe you? You would have had us killed!”

“I understand,” she said softly to Consolation. “I deserve everything you can call me, and more. But I’m trying as I never did before. Please, listen to what I have to say.”

He wavered, then crossed the stone to meet her. “Do the others know where we are? Does the enemy know?”

“I’m not sure,” Venli said. “The humans found you. One Fused knew of you, but she is dead now. I don’t know who she told.”