The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn, #6)

by Brandon Sanderson

Don’t you ever feel like you never actually grew up? That everyone else did, but you’re secretly faking?”

“Pushing society forward is no destruction. Even if, in doing so, it leaves us behind.”

The difference between good and evil men is not found in the acts they are willing to commit—but merely in what name they are willing to commit them in.”

“It is not one I ever thought I’d have to answer either,” Harmony said. “But obviously, it has been forced upon me. You would have me intervene and stop the murders of innocents. I could do this. I have considered it. If I were to stop every one, what then? Do I stop maimings as well?”

“And where do I hold back, Waxillium? Do I prevent all wounds, or do I prevent only those caused by evil people? Do I stop a man from falling asleep so that he will not tip a candle and burn down his house? Do I stop all harm that could ever befall a person?”

You do not see it, because the worst never reaches you.”

Now this device, this was an advantage. The Bands could serve one man, make a deity out of him. A fleet of ships like this could deify an entire army.

Stores that changed his level of Investiture.

radiance

They’re all the same. Metal, minds, men, all the same substance.…

“Thank Trell for that.” The voice sounded relieved.

“The definition of a lawman, Uncle, is easy,”

“He’s

the man who takes the bullet so nobody else has

Tales of men with red eyes who visited in the night. She added the stories to her files of research about Trell, the ancient god that people were somehow worshipping again. A god that had crafted spikes to corrupt the kandra Paalm, and whose

name was on the lips of many of the prisoners.

A beggar stolen off the street, Suit guessed.

Hoid?

Of course, the softly glowing red eyes were another sign.

The Set had Faceless Immortals of its own.

“Merely observing. I am perfectly willing to wait upon Trell’s pleasure.”

“No longer. Recent advances have made civilization here too

dangerous.

Allowing it to continue risks further advances we cannot control, and so we have decided to remove life on this sphere instead. Thank you for your service; it has been accepted....

This was no longer an era of quiet mansions

and smoking-room conversations; it was an era of bold skyscrapers and vibrant downtown politics.

One was silvery. Could that be nicrosil? The other was copper. A

Feruchemical metal.

They called them copperminds. A very special kind of Feruchemical storage. One that stored memories. He tapped it.

Wax was in a different place. A barren land, with no one in sight and only dust blowing around him. It was a difficult perspective to experience, for only half of the viewer’s eyesight was normal.

The other was all in blue, lines everywhere. The vision of a man sp...

A memory of something long ago that flickered

in his consciousness, then was lost in a moment.

“Survive.”