Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5)

by Brandon Sanderson

Arclomedarian crosses us again, said Yelamaiszin, the First. It meddles more and more. It has met with these new Radiants.

The others called him silly, but he thought the different colors tasted different.

frightening world,” Cord said, narrowing her eyes. “He is a strange place. And I realized that I liked him.” “Being afraid?” “No. Being able to prove that I could survive frightening things.”

That mural . . . it was circular and—inlaid with golden foil—it seemed to glow with its own light. The writing on parts of it was unfamiliar to Rysn; she hadn’t seen the script during any of her travels. It wasn’t even the Dawnchant.

The peculiar letters were art themselves, curling around the outside of the exploding sun—which was divided into mostly symmetrical pieces. Four of them, each in turn broken into four smaller sections.

You were brought here, she thought to herself, by one of the Guardians of Ancient Sins. Of course she had been. That made sense. Wait. Did it? Yes, she thought. You were. There are few of them left. And so the Sleepless take up the task.

“Please, gods of the ancient Herdazians,” Lopen whispered. “Don’t let me get killed by a monster that looks so stupid. Please.”

Nikli laughed. “Mere words cannot explain. The Dawnshards are Commands, Rysn. The will of a god.”

“The most powerful forms of Surgebinding transcend traditional mortal understanding,” Nikli said. His body began to re-form, hordelings crawling back into place. “All their greatest applications require Intent and a Command. Demands on a level no person could ever manage alone. To make such Commands, one must have the reasoning—the breadth of understanding—of a deity. And so, the Dawnshards. The four primal Commands that created all things.” He paused. “And then eventually, they were used to undo Adonalsium itself. . . .”