“A name,” the windspren said, walking through the air to stand beside his face. She was in the shape of a young woman, complete with flowing skirt and delicate feet. “Sylphrena.” “Sylphrena,” Kaladin repeated, tying on the sandals. “Syl,” the spirit said. She cocked her head. “That’s amusing. It appears that I have a nickname.” “Congratulations.” Kaladin stood up again, wobbling.
