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Pattern had started buzzing in the middle of the storm—a strange, angry sound. After that, he’d ranted in a language she didn’t understand,
the Spiritual Realm is a place of pure truth, while the Cognitive is more fluid.
They have their own spren.”
“Spren are . . . power . . . shattered power. Power given thought by the perceptions of men. Honor, Cultivation, and . . . and another. Fragments broken off.”
“Odium.”
Almost looks man-made,
He wasn’t wearing his spectacles.
They gave their Surges to human heirs, But not to those who know them most dear, before us.
’Tis said it was warm in the land far away When Voidbringers entered our songs. We brought them home to stay And then those homes became their own, It happened gradually.
Shalash, Herald of Beauty, Shallan’s namesake.
She swore one of them was Yalb.
a woman kneeling over a body, raising a hammer and chisel, as if to slam it down into the person’s face. The one beneath her was stiff, wooden . . . maybe even stone?
He
did catch Rock shooing away a lanky man in an ardent’s robe. “What was that?” Kaladin asked, catching the Horneater as he passed. “That one,” Rock said. “Keeps loitering here with sketchbook. Wants to draw bridgemen. Ha! Because we are famous, you see.”
The spren betrayed us,
Our minds are too close to their realm That gives us our forms,
We can’t provide what the humans lend,
YOU WILL MURDER MY CHILD AND LEAVE HER CORPSE
A second storm, one of red lightning,
Damnation, known as Braize
But it is not impossible to blend Their Surges to ours in the end.
“It looked ordinary to me. Well, as ordinary as a Shardblade can.” “It was different
Our gods were born splinters of a soul,
A challenged champion. A strife even he must requite.
But for her, it didn’t have to be ten,
Stormfather—and he was not one of her people’s gods. In fact, the songs named him a traitor—a spren who had chosen to protect humans instead of the listeners.
fact, the songs named him a traitor—a spren who had chosen to protect humans instead of the listeners.
One of those storms had come, Invested to the hilt and looking for a place to stick it all.
He expected a voice to speak in his mind as he drifted off. Of course, there wasn’t one. Hadn’t been one in years.
Nahel bond,
“Dustbringers,
each order was thus matched to the nature and temperament of the Herald it named patron,
The short, tan-skinned person had some kind of carapace mask tied to his face,
Other curiosities baffled her. A vial of pale sand. A couple of thick hairpins. A lock of golden hair. The branch of a tree with writing on it she couldn’t read. A silver knife. An odd flower preserved in some kind of solution.
That chunk of pale pink crystal looked like it might be some kind of gemstone, but why was it so delicate? Bits of it had flaked off in its case,
“Do not harm Amaram, little knife,” he warned. “His life belongs to another.
Bondsmiths, they had members only three,
Their spren was understood to be specific, and to persuade them to grow to the magnitude of the other orders was seen as seditious.
You know what an axe is. But what is a hound?”
I’m terribly ineffective at hurting people.
The Shards here are very strict.
“Is not just water,” Rock said. “Is water of life. It is connection to gods. If Unkalaki swim in it, sometimes they see place of gods.”
“Is that why you can see spren?” Kaladin asked. “Because you swam in these waters, and they did something to you?” “Is not part of story,” Rock said
“Lunu’anaki,” Rock said, “is god of travel and mischief. Very powerful god. He came from depths of peak ocean, from realm of gods.”
white hair.”
Lunu’anaki cannot hurt man. Is forbidden by other gods. Everyone knows this.”
stones unhallowed.”
“The necklace?” Shallan asked. “Simple, but of aluminum, which can only be made by Soulcasting,”
The white fog appeared—manifesting as little vines sprouting in the air—
Truthwatchers were esoteric in nature, their order being formed entirely of those who never spoke or wrote of what they did,
