Wind and Truth (The Stormlight Archive, #5)

by Brandon Sanderson

Tonight, his dance wasn’t about killing, or even about training. It was about the kata, and his love for what he’d learned. He spun the spear, adding in every flourish he knew, the kinds that would get you killed on a battlefield—but that didn’t matter. Because he wasn’t on a battlefield, and this wasn’t a weapon. Syl was a glowing silvery arc in his hands as he moved through the sequence. Each step sure, each grip perfect, stretching and straining his muscles. Just because it wasn’t practical didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult. He spun, whipping the spear into attacks. Then—as he leaned forward, thrusting the spear in a long one-handed lunge—the shape of it fuzzed, and he was holding her hand. He spun Syl, her skirt flaring as he moved through the next step of the kata.

This imagery blew my mind. Kaladin goes through such hardships over the past four books, and in this moment you get a glimpse of Kaladin’s mental health improving, and a moment to reflect on how much Kaladin and Sylphrena’s relationship has grown. It’s a brief reprieve in a book filled with dark moments to simply enjoy the moment of Kaladin and Syl dancing, paired with a moment of stunning imagery through words.

Even with proper flues, the huge fires made the room smell of char and smoke. That scent would linger on his clothing; he’d pick up a jacket that looked clean, then would carry the ghost of the bonfire all day long.