This is my choice, he thought as the Parshendi archers formed up. It’s not some angry god watching me, not some spren playing tricks, not some twist of fate. It’s me. I chose to follow Tien. I chose to charge the Shardbearer and save Amaram. I chose to escape the slave pits. And now, I choose to try to rescue these men, though I know I will probably fail. The Parshendi loosed their arrows, and Kaladin felt an exaltation. Tiredness evaporated, fatigue fled. He wasn’t fighting for Sadeas. He wasn’t working to line someone’s pockets. He was fighting to protect.
