The Lost Metal (Mistborn, #7)

by Brandon Sanderson

“Your end,” the voice whispered. “Your end comes. Either in ash, or at the hands of the men of gold and red. Gold and—”

People are elastic, Wax thought. We can keep reshaping ourselves. And if we’re not quite the same as before, well, that’s good. It means we can grow.

“I go by Moonlight,” the woman said. “We like code names. It’s one of our things.”

“It’s easy to do what you do, since you don’t care,” Wayne growled to the two, making his eyes go even wider. “So long as you can pretend. But real pain, that comes when you realize what you are. What you done. Waking up each morning, knowin’ you’re worthless. That’s pain. Anything else? Anything you could do to me? Well, that’s just a little bit o’ fun.”