Arcanum Unbounded: The Cosmere Collection

by Brandon Sanderson

Sel is notable for being dishardic, one of few planets in the cosmere to attract two separate Shards of Adonalsium: Dominion and Devotion. These Shards were extremely influential in the development of human societies on the planet, and most of their traditions and religions can be traced back to these two.

I believe that early on, the Shards took an unconcerned approach to humankind—and society was shaped by the slow, steady discovery of the powers that permeated the landscape. This is difficult to determine for certain now, however, as at some point in the distant past, both Devotion and Dominion were destroyed. Their Investiture—their power—was Splintered, their minds ripped away, their souls sent into the Beyond.

At this point, the bulk of the Investiture that made up the powers of Dominion and Devotion is trapped on the Cognitive Realm.

Collectively, these powers—which have a polarized relationship—are called the Dor. Forced together as they are, trapped and bursting to escape, they power the various forms of magic on Sel, which are multitude.

Because the Cognitive Realm has distinct locations (unlike the Spiritual Realm, where most forms of Investiture reside), magic on Sel is ...

In addition, the rules of perception and intent are greatly magnified on Sel, to the point that language—or similar functions—directly shapes the magic as it is pu...

I believe that the very landscape itself has become Invested to the point that it has a growing self-awareness, in a way unseen on other planets in the cosmere. I do not know

Perhaps the Ire know more, but they are not speaking on the topic, and have repeatedly denied my requests for collaboration. Brief mention should be given to the entities known as the seons and the skaze, Splinters of self-aware Investiture who have developed humanlike mannerisms. I believe there is a link between them and the puzzle of Sel’s nature.

To Forge something, you had to know its past, its nature.

This cell was meant for one of her kind, built of stones with many different veins of rock in them to make them difficult to Forge. They would come from different quarries and would each have a unique history. Knowing as little as she did, Forging them would be nearly impossible. And even if she did transform the rock, there was probably some other failsafe to stop her.

She’d begun carving the wooden handle, after prying off the metal portion, as a crude soulstamp. You’re not going to get out this way, Shai, she told herself. You need another method.

A Grand, the race who led the empire.

Surely other planets in the cosmere have seen worse disasters, but on none of them will you find a thriving, technologically advanced society as exists on Scadrial.

Scadrial, another dishardic planet, is characterized by a host of unique features. It is one of only two places in the cosmere where humankind does not predate the arrival of Shards.

Indeed, I am convinced from my studies that the planet itself did not exist before its Shards, Ruin and Preservation, arrived in the system.

This is a powerful magic, and one where humans themselves have often had access to grand bursts of strength. I would challenge one to identify another planet, save only Roshar, where one can find such strength of Investiture so commonly in the hands of mortals. Periodically throughout Scadrial’s history, a man or woman gained access to vast amounts of power, with incredible effects.

Indeed, I could fill entire volumes with my thoughts on Allomancy, Feruchemy, and Hemalurgy. I maintain, however, that the one of these with the largest potential impact on the cosmere is Hemalurgy. Usable by anyone with the right knowledge, this dangerous creation has proven able to warp souls regardless of planet or Investiture, creating false Connections that no Shard designed or intended.

Lyndip, my spirit guide, sent by the Survivor to me during my most difficult times of trial.* I have long suspected her to be one of the Faceless Immortals,* as the legends speak of them being able to change forms and take the bodies of animals.

Koloss are people. The process is terrible. To initiate a man into their ranks, they take him and pin him with small spikes of metal. This creates a mystical transformation, during which the man’s mind and identity are savagely weakened. In the end, the person becomes as dull and simple as the koloss. Koloss are not born. Koloss are made. Their barbarity exists inside of all of us. Perhaps this was what dear Handerwym was trying to tell me.*

Everything in the living world was reflected here in this place, and while most things were shadowy mist, metal instead appeared as a powerful light. Some of those lights moved. He frowned, stepping toward one, and only then did he recognize that many of the lights were people. He saw each as an intense white glow radiating out from a human form. Metal and souls are the same thing, he observed. Who would have thought?

“Spirits who come to this place are drawn into the Beyond.” “You aren’t.” “I’m a god.” A god. Not just “God.” Noted.

You indicated that Allomancers last longer. Feruchemists too?” “Yes.” “People with power,” Kelsier said, pointing toward the distant spires of Kredik Shaw. This was the road the Lord Ruler had taken, heading toward his palace. Though the Lord Ruler’s carriage was now distant, Kelsier could still see his soul glowing up there somewhere. Far brighter than the others. “What about him?” Kelsier said. “You say that everyone has to bend to death, but obviously that isn’t true. He is immortal.” “He’s a special case,” Fuzz said, perking up. “He has ways of not dying in the first place.” “And if he did die?” Kelsier pressed. “He’d last even longer on this side than I am, right?” “Oh, indeed,” Fuzz said. “He Ascended, if just for a short time. He held enough of the power to expand his soul.”

“About how the Lord Ruler expanded his soul.” “That was delightful,” God said. “It was spectacular to watch! And now he is Preserved. I am glad you didn’t find a way to destroy him. Everyone else passes, but not him. It’s wonderful.”

“You didn’t even fight.” “I used the Eleventh Metal.” “Foolishness,” God said. He started pacing. “That was Ruin’s influence on you. But what was the point? I can’t understand why he wanted you to have that useless metal.” He perked up. “And that fight. You and the Inquisitor. Yes,

Yes, the metal, flared during the moment of transition. You got a glimpse of the Spiritual Realm, then? His Connection and his past? You were using Ati’s essence, unfortunately. One shouldn’t trust it, even in a diluted form. Except…” He frowned, cocking his head, as if trying to remember something he’d forgotten. “Another god,” Kelsier whispered, closing his eyes. “You said … you trapped him?” “He will break free eventually. It’s inevitable. But the prison isn’t my last gambit. It can’t be.”

“Six … teen?” Kelsier said. “Sixteen.” Fuzz grinned. “Clever, don’t you think?” “Because it means…” “The number of metals,” Fuzz said. “In Allomancy.” “There are ten. Eleven, if you count the one I discovered.”

“I see,” Fuzz said softly. “He dared that, did he? Dangerous, with Ruin straining against his bonds. But if anyone were going to try something so foolhardy, it would be Cephandrius.” “He stole something, I think,” Kelsier said. “From the other side of the room. A bit of metal.” “Aaah…” Fuzz said softly. “I had thought that when he rejected the rest of us, he would stop interfering. I should know better than to trust an implication from him. Half the time you can’t trust his outright promises.…” “Who is he?” Kelsier asked.

“It’s not the world of the dead. It’s the world of the mind. Men—all things, truly—are like a ray of light. The floor is the Physical Realm, where that light pools. The sun is the Spiritual Realm, where it begins. This Realm, the Cognitive Realm, is the space between where that beam stretches.”

Soul and metal became one. Elend’s light strengthened, glowing vibrantly. Kelsier closed his eyes, feeling a thrumming sense of peace.

“He thinks you’re insignificant,” Preservation said. “I think he finds you amusing—the soul of Ati that is still in there somewhere would laugh at this.” “He has a soul?”

Ishathon. Kelsier stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and kicked at the ground of the island. It was some type of dark, smoky stone. “What?” Preservation whispered. Kelsier jumped, then glanced at the line of light. “You … in there, Fuzz?” “I’m everywhere,” Preservation said, his voice soft, frail. He sounded exhausted. “Why have you stopped?” “This is different.” “Yes, it congeals here,” Preservation said. “It has to do with the way men think, and where they are likely to pass. Somewhat to do with that, at least.” “But what is it?” Kelsier said, stepping up onto the island. Preservation said nothing further, and so Kelsier continued toward the center of the island. Whatever had “congealed” here, it was strikingly stonelike. And things grew on it. Kelsier passed scrubby plants sprouting from the otherwise hard ground—not misty, inchoate plants, but real ones full of color. They had broad brown leaves with—curiously—what seemed like mist rising from them. None of the plants reached higher than his knees, but there were still far more than he’d expected to find here.

The man wore skaa clothing—suspenders, shirt with sleeves rolled up—and tended a small dinner fire. He had short hair and a narrow, almost pinched face. That knife at his belt, nearly long enough to be a sword, would come in very handy. The other person, who sat on a small folding chair, might have been Terris. There were some among their population who had a skin tone almost as dark as hers, though he’d also met some people from the various southern dominances who were dark. She certainly wasn’t wearing Terris clothing—she had on a sturdy brown dress, with a large leather girdle around the waist, and wore her hair woven into tiny braids.

“My name is Khriss, of Taldain.” She nodded toward the other man, and he reluctantly replaced his knife. “That is Nazh, a man in my employ.”

“Any idea why Preservation would tell me to come talk to you?” “Preservation?” Nazh said, stepping up and seizing Kelsier’s arm. So, as with the Drifter, they could indeed touch Kelsier. “You’ve spoken directly with one of the Shards?” “Sure,” Kelsier said. “Fuzz and I go way back.” He pulled his arm free of Nazh’s grip and grabbed the other folding stool from beside the fire—two simple pieces of wood that folded together, a piece of cloth between them to sit on. He settled it across from Khriss and sat down. “I don’t like this, Khriss,” Nazh said. “He’s dangerous.” “Fortunately,” she replied, “so are we. The Shard Preservation, Survivor. How does he look?”

“He’s dying,” Kelsier said, spinning Nazh’s knife in his fingers. He’d palmed it during their altercation a moment ago, and was curious to find that though it was made of metal, it didn’t glow. “He’s a short man with black hair—or he used to be. He’s been … well, unraveling.” “Hey,” Nazh said, eyes narrowing at the knife. He looked at his belt, and the empty sheath. “Hey!” “Unraveling,” Khriss said. “So a slow death. Ati doesn’t know how to Splinter another Shard? Or he hasn’t the strength? Hmm…” “Ati?” Kelsier asked. “Preservation mentioned that name too.”

Khriss pointed at the sky with one finger while she sipped at her drink. “That’s him. What he’s become, at least.” “And … what is a Shard?” Kelsier asked. “Are you a scholar, Mr. Survivor?” “No,” he said. “But I’ve killed a few.” “Cute. Well, you’ve stumbled into something far, far bigger than you, your politics, or your little planet.” “Bigger than you can handle, Survivor,” Nazh said, swiping back his knife as Kelsier balanced it on his finger. “You should just bow out now.” “Nazh does have a point,” Khriss said. “Your questions are dangerous. Once you step behind the curtain and see the actors as the people they are, it becomes harder to pretend the play is real.” “I…” Kelsier leaned forward, clasping his hands before him.

“The Shards,” Khriss said, drawing Kelsier’s attention, “are not God, but they are pieces of God. Ruin, Preservation, Autonomy, Cultivation, Devotion … There are sixteen of them.” “Sixteen,” Kelsier breathed. “There are fourteen more of these things running around?” “The rest are on other planets.”

is an original, shrouded and hidden somewhere in the cosmere. I’ve yet to find it, but I have found stories. “Anyway, there was a God. Adonalsium. I don’t know if it was a force or a being, though I suspect the latter. Sixteen people, together, killed Adonalsium, ripping it apart and dividing its essence between them, becoming the first who Ascended.” “Who were they?” Kelsier said, trying to make sense of this. “A diverse group,” she said. “With equally diverse motives. Some wished for the power; others saw killing Adonalsium as the only good option left to them. Together they murdered a deity, and became divine themselves.” She smiled in a kindly way, as if to prepare him for what came next. “Two of those created this planet, Survivor, including the people on it.” “So … my world, and everyone I know,” Kelsier said, “is the creation of a pair of … half gods?” “More like fractional gods,” Nazh said. “And ones with no particular qualifications for deityhood, other than being conniving enough to murder the guy who had the job before.”

If it’s any consolation, Adonalsium originally created the first humans, therefore your gods had a pattern to use.”

“And that thing? It used to be human?” “The power … distorts,” Khriss said. “There’s a person in that somewhere, directing it. Or perhaps just riding it at this point.” Kelsier remembered the puppet Ruin had presented, the shape of a man. Now basically a shell filled with a terrible power. “So what happens if one of these things … dies?” “I’m very curious to see,” Khriss said. “I’ve never viewed it in person, and the past deaths were different. They were each a single, stunning event, the god’s power shattered and dispersed. This is more like a strangulation, while those were like a beheading. This should be very instructive.” “Unless I stop it,” Kelsier said.

Khriss said. “It is a true shame, but I know of no way to save it. I came with the hopes that I might be able to help, but I can’t even reach the Physical Realm here any longer.” “Someone destroyed the gateway in,” Nazh noted. “Someone incredibly foolhardy. Brash. Stupid. Didn’t—” “You’re overselling it,” Kelsier said. “The Drifter told me what I did.” “The … who?” Khriss asked.

“Fellow with white hair,” Kelsier said. “Lanky, with a sharp nose and—” “Damn,” Khriss said. “Did he get to the Well of Ascension?” “Stole something there,” Kelsier said. “A bit of metal.” “Damn,” Khriss said, looking at her servant. “We need to go. I’m sorry, Survivor.” “But—” “This isn’t because of what you just told us,” she said, rising and waving for Nazh to help gather their things. “We were leaving anyway. This planet is dying; as much as I wish to witness the death of a Shard, I don’t dare risk doing it from up close. We’ll observe from afar.” “Preservation thought you’d be able to help,” Kelsier said. “Surely there is something you can do. Something you can tell me. It can’t be over.” “I am sorry, Survivor,” Khriss said softly. “Perhaps if I knew more, perhaps if I could convince the Eyree to answer my questions…” She shook her head. “It will happen slowly, Survivor, over months. But it is coming. Ruin will consume this world, and the man once known as Ati won’t be able to stop it. If he even cared to.”

The eyes of your god will be upon you, Kelsier. He’ll know where you are, as you have pieces of him within. It has been dangerous enough to speak here with you.”

“The Eyree,” he said. “They’ve been at this far longer than we have, Survivor. If someone will know how to help you, it will be the Eyree. Look for them where the land becomes solid again.”

“They mentioned someone called the Eyes Ree?” “Yes, the I-ree,” Preservation said, pronouncing it in a slightly different way. “Three letters. I R E. It means something in their language, these people from another land. The ones who died, but did not. I have felt them crowding at the edges of my vision, like spirits in the night.” “Dead, but alive,” Kelsier said. “Like me?” “No.” “Then what?” “Died, but did not.” Great, Kelsier thought. He turned toward the west. “They are supposedly at the ocean.” “The Ire built a city,” Preservation said, softly. “In a place between worlds…”

Then he stepped back, realizing that the person on the cot had stood up and was looking about. “What do you want?” Kelsier snapped. The figure jumped. Had he heard that? Kelsier walked up to the figure and touched him, gaining a vision of an old beggar, scraggly of beard and wild of eye. The man was muttering to himself, and Kelsier—while touching him—could make some of it out. “In me head,” the man muttered. “Geddouta me head.” “You can hear me,” Kelsier said. The figure jumped again. “Damn whispers,” he said. “Geddouta me head!”

When an object was recovered—or worse, destroyed—in the Physical Realm, its Identity changed and the spirit would return to the location of its body. Abandoned objects were best. Ones that had been owned for a long while, so they had a strong Identity, but that currently had nobody in the Physical Realm to care for them.

The lights ahead pulsed from a fortress crafted of white stone. It wasn’t a city, but close enough for him. That light had an odd quality; it didn’t burn or flicker like a flame. Some kind of limelight? He drew near and pulled up beside one of the odd rock formations that were common out here. It had hooked spikes drooping from it almost like branches. The very walls of this fortress glowed faintly. Was that mist? It didn’t seem to have the same hue to it; it was too blue. Keeping to the shadows of rock formations, Kelsier rounded the building toward a brighter light source at the back.

This turned out to be an enormous glowing cord as thick as a large tree trunk. It pulsed with a slow, rhythmic power, and the light it gave off was the same shade as the walls—only far more brilliant. It seemed to be some kind of energy conduit, and ran off into the far distance, visible in the darkness for miles. The cord passed into the fortress through a large gate in the back. As Kelsier crept closer, he found that little lines of energy were running across the stone of the wall. They branched smaller and smaller, like a glowing web of veins.

These weren’t stones, but the spirits of stones—like his spirit of a fire. They had been brought here and constructed into a building. Suddenly he didn’t feel quite so clever at having found himself a staff and a sack.