The Sunlit Man

by Brandon Sanderson

No. But…I think…Sess Nassith Tor… It means something like… One Who Escaped the Sun.

“Kal?” he asked into the storm. The figure turned, revealing a hawkish face and an eminently punchable grin. “Aw, Damnation,” Nomad said with a sigh. “Wit? What the hell are you doing here?”

WHIT! Who is the Nomand? I feel like I should know him.

“You always wanted the answers,” Wit said. “That’s why I took you on. You thought you could find them, tease them out, write them down, and catalogue the world. So certain you could find every one, if you just tried hard enough…”

Sigzil!!!! Right?

“You haven’t been to Hell,” she shouted. He shrugged. He’d been through many varieties of hell, though only the planet Threnody was literally called by the term.

“People?” he asked. “These power sources used to be people?” “This one here,” she said, resting her hand on the housing, “was my mother. Two weeks ago. We left her for the sun, then recovered her sunheart on the next rotation. Her body vaporized by the heat, her soul condensed into this stone.”

Please, no, the knight says. I’m no god. I work for a living.

Truth was, he didn’t need either to be dangerous. Because he had power, and power—wielded by a fool—could crush anyone, smart or not.

“You should have kept reading,” Nomad said, pulling back the man’s attention. “It’s not compassion that drives me, Cinder Fool. It’s not ruthlessness either.” He took a pointed step forward—putting himself closer to the Cinder King, and toward the line of sight between the man and Rebeke. “I really do only want to get away. But there’s one thing you need to know about my people. You promised me no tricks. And you should never break an oath to a Rosharan.”

“Pardon, but you chatted with him?” “Yeah. Long story.” It’s really not, the knight observes. He stopped by. You flew up.

The other froze, then spun as Contemplation—standing in front of the table—unloaded shot after shot into his chest. She strode forward, black-dyed hair tumbling around her stocky figure, firing until she dropped the second Charred in a mess of smoldering embers and burned flesh.

I’m raising my hand, the knight says. You can’t see it, but I am. Call on me. “Okay…” Nomad said in Alethi. Can I go take an art class instead, teacher?

You should tell her, the knight interjects, that is basically the entire point of math. Explaining stuff everyone already knows.

“I said yes to Hoid. And I bonded you.” You didn’t know what either would do. “I let the Dawnshard consume us, Auxiliary. I let it feed on you.” I salvaged a little. This bit of my mind. The last fragment of my soul.

Aw bud

He arranged his arms in a cross pattern, wrists touching, and softly mouthed the words. “Bridge Four.”

“You go by the name Nomad. Why?” Confidence asked, squeezing his hand. “It is the name I deserve. And it sounds a little like my birth name, in my own language.” “Which is?” “Sigzil,”

“We name you Zellion,” Contemplation said. “After the original Lodestar, who led us to this land and to life. As you have led us.” “Zellion,” he whispered. “It means One Who Finds,” Compassion said. “Though I know not the original language.”

“Zellion,” Confidence said. “You are one of us now. Whatever you’ve run from, whatever you’ve left, whatever you’ve done—none of that matters. Here, you are of Beacon, of the planet Canticle. We welcome you. We accept you.”

“I…” he whispered. “I accept.”

But here’s the thing, Zellion. Here’s what you never have understood. I also swore to be better than I was. I became a Knight Radiant. I spoke the words. And whatever you did, I never betrayed my oaths. You protect those people, Zellion. I’ve carried you as far as I can. You’ll have to find the rest of the way on your own.