The Lost Metal (The Mistborn Saga #7)

by Brandon Sanderson

NICKI SAVAGE and The COMPASS of Spirits

Is Wayne writing this?

“The ash comes again,” the man said through bloody lips, his voice strangely grating. “The world will fall to it. You will get what you deserve, and all will wither beneath a cloud of blackness and a blanket of burned bodies made ash.”

She knew Death far better than she knew God.

For all his short, spindly figure and somewhat embarrassing beard, Allik was a force to be reckoned with. At least when it came to his pastries. “A new batch is almost done!” he called to Wax. “O Hungry One!” “Don’t start that again, Allik,” Wax snapped. “And I didn’t come here because I’m hungry.” “But you’ll still eat, yah?” “Yah,” Wax admitted. “Great!”

“Waxillium?” Steris said from behind. “You should come look at this.” “What?” he asked, turning. “The trellium spike,” she said, “is reacting to the harmonium.”

One of the other sixteen decided the best way to improve his stock was to try to destroy all the others. He managed it in a few cases.” “And … is that Trell?” Moonlight shook her head. “No, his name is Odium. Trell—Autonomy—had a different idea.

Odium 👊👊👊

“Trell is trying to edge out the others,” Moonlight said. “She—he, they, it varies—doesn’t like engaging other gods directly. We call them Shards, by the way. Autonomy is trying to outcompete the others by filling the cosmere with versions of herself. Crowd out the competition, so to speak. Like an extremely invasive plant moving into another ecosystem and strangling the local varieties.”

“You do yourself a disservice, Master Wayne,” Hoid said softly. “Can’t be no hero if you were a villain, Hoid.” “But in most of the stories, it is the villain who knows the hero best.”

a piece of slime,” Gave continued, “that … er…” “Keep goin’,” Wayne said, his eyes alarmingly wide. “Keep insultin’ my friends. Do it.”

“Death is not a religion,” Ironeyes said. “It is a fact.” “But—” “How would you like to die, mortal?” Ironeyes asked, stepping closer, robes billowing around him. “And when? Quietly? In the night, of a failing heart? Drowning, on one of your new ships as it sinks? Here? Right now? Crushed by the weight of your own stupidity?”

“Moonlight,” the woman said after a glance. “You have to read this. Travel to Bjendal has been completely upset. That’s four primary systems we can’t visit without extreme danger, if you count Roshar. I’ve said it for years: The perpendicularities are no longer viable. They never were good for mass transportation or commerce, no matter how hard those fools on Nalthis try.

“This is only a fraction of the talents members of the Ghostbloods have,” Moonlight noted. “You’ll be amazed at the things we will show you.”

No NO NO

“They’re probably coming through Shadesmar,” Moonlight said. “A dimension overlapping ours. It’s how TwinSoul and I got here.”

While I’m more frightened of that bomb, an invasion by Autonomy’s forces could also be catastrophic. Fortunately, the local perpendicularity—the portal to reach this world—is far to the south and carefully controlled.” “There’s no other way?” Marasi asked. The two shared a look.

“There are planets,” Moonlight said, “where Autonomy has created such portals unexpectedly, and against all understood mechanics. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s done that here, or is soon going to. Providing a means for her armies to attack.”

“I’m a constable, Entrone,” Marasi whispered. “My strength isn’t in myself. It comes from the people.”

For to worship Harmony was not only to worship Preservation— it was also to worship Ruin, with all that implied.

Sometimes you needed what he’d done. You needed a sword. But Wayne figured sometimes you needed something else. A shield?

“No,” Wax repeated. “They were built and trained to defeat us. That man knows exactly how to hunt me.” “So…” Wayne grinned. “I take the fellow, you take the woman?”

He seized her then, pulled her into a kiss, her figure sculpting to his and pushing against him in all the right places. It felt amazing—like they were liquid, aligned, alive, alight. And yes, a proper butt-grab was involved.

To listen to his wife, to his heart, and to Harmony himself. Father, lawman, senator. He could be all three, and more. So long as he was helping people.