Cytonic (Skyward, #3)

by Brandon Sanderson

Life isn’t always like one of those stories.” “I know,” I said, still staring over that beautiful field. “But…stories say something. About us, and about where we came from. They’re a reminder that we have a past, a history. And a future.” When I was growing up, Gran-Gran’s stories had been my shield. Against the names I was called, against the things people said about my father. Against my own terror that all those things—particularly the ones about me—were true. In the stories, there was a sense of justice. Everything had a purpose; every little bit meant something. I thought if those heroes and heroines from the stories could keep going forward into the darkness, so could I.

“It’s not my job to be sure,” I said. “It’s my job to do my best anyway. Come on.”

The two of us sharing our idealized versions of one another—knowing we could never live up to them, yet knowing it didn’t matter. Because by simply being near one another, we resonated and became a little more—a little better—for the knowledge, support, and trust.

“Because every path we walk changes us,

I’m tired. Of watching people die. Of giving up my future to a war. Of living my life with my stress at a constant ten. How much do I owe Detritus? How much is one person expected to pay?”

“You are tired of sacrificing what you want for the good of your people,” Hesho said. “Yes,” I whispered. “That is not cowardice, but selfishness,” he said. I winced. “However,” he continued, “duty should not be accepted without question. Duty can be a motive, but should not be an excuse. Does your fight uphold honor and virtue? Does it match your moral code?”

Only that most of them weren’t evil. They were merely people. Following, by accident, someone who was evil.” “Excellent,” he said. “You have left behind the worldview of a child.”

“You are not a coward, nor are you selfish, for realizing you have options, warrior-sister. You cannot be defined by your questions. Only by what you do with them.”

Having the permission to stay had somehow given me the courage to leave.

“All people must accept that we have the potential to do terrible things. It is part of seeing our place in the universe, our heritage, and our natures. But in that acceptance we gain strength, for potential can be refused. Any hero who could have been a monster is more heroic for the choices he or she made to walk another road.”

“Without emotions to react against,” I said, “some better things couldn’t exist.” “Like?” “Like courage, M-Bot. Fear creates courage.”

“You are always thinking about everyone else—but I wonder that you see the grand picture of battles and fights, yet sometimes forget the small things.”

I could be afraid, then become courageous. I could be small-minded, then come to understand. I could be selfish. Then move beyond it. I could start as human, then allow myself to become something more. I was everything they feared. Because they refused to ever let themselves change, but I embraced change. It was the essence and nature of my strength.