Unsouled (Cradle, #1)

by Will Wight

the water clings, or it retreats, or it rises, or it freezes. They receive badges accordingly. Shields for Enforcers, who protect the clan from its enemies with strength of arms. Arrows for Strikers, who attack their rivals from a distance. Scepters for Rulers, who bend the powers of heaven and earth. And hammers for Forgers, whose techniques create weapons and wealth for the clan. All things in Sacred Valley can be divided in four.

“Fate is not fair, but it is just. Hard work is never in vain…even when it does not achieve what you wished.”

A weapon held in ignorance only wounds its bearer.”

That night, Lindon stuffed a shovel into his pack and prepared to cheat.

This was the sort of person the Abidan were created to save: the weak who stood against the strong. The sort of person the Phoenix was meant to save. The sort of person who might, with a little outside help, even reach beyond their fate.

His life guttered out, visible to her eyes, but that meant nothing before Suriel. He was only dead.

Blood splattered the arena, and his legs lay next to his mother’s head.

“It is a good fate. You only die after a full, rich life.”

This is the power of an immortal. With even a small piece of that power, he could do anything.

Every glance they shot at Lindon’s wooden badge poked a needle in his pride. He only had to bear with it. They would never make it past Jade; they were almost to the end of their Path. His was just beginning.

“Elder Rahm. For an Unsouled to pass the Trial of Glorious Ascension before sundown is a fine achievement indeed. No matter how you did it.” A bit of wry humor crept into Elder Rahm’s voice before he turned and waved Lindon after him.

Jade isn’t where I’ll stop. Neither is Gold. When I return to the valley, they won’t be able to measure my power.

“The Irons failed to capture her, so you…sent more Irons?”

“My master used to say distraction kills more sacred artists than enemies ever do.”