“I will do what I can to help,” Wit said, “and for that reason, I must go. I cannot risk too much, because if he finds me, then I become nothing—a soul shredded and broken into pieces that cannot be reassembled. What I do here is more dangerous than you could ever know.” He turned to go. “Wit,” Dalinar called. “Yes?” “If who finds you?” “The one you fight, Dalinar Kholin. The father of hatred.” Wit saluted, then jogged off.
Odium seeks hoid
