The Sunlit Man

by Brandon Sanderson

that right now. He watched the dome near completion, bringing darkness upon them, save for a hole at the far end. He’d leave through that, then seal it. “We will survive this,” Contemplation whispered. “Thank you. I knew you would come back.” “That’s odd,” he said, “because I didn’t.” “Adonalsium did,” she replied. “I prayed to him for this to happen.” He grimaced, and Contemplation regarded him, their faces visible by the light of the nearby sunheart. His armor was glowing too, though not in either of its customary shades of blue. Instead it glowed with the light of embers—the sunlight might have damaged it, because little flecks of red-orange light continued to burn all across it—and when he moved, he trailed smoke. “I’ve noticed your expression when we mention Adonalsium.” “Contemplation,” he said. “I don’t mean to be contrary, but Adonalsium? He—” “He’s dead?” she asked. “Yes, we know. Did you think we had no idea of the story? The Shattering? The Shards?” “I…yes. So I assumed. Since you still talk about him and…well, you know, pray.” “Our faith,” she said, “is that this is all part of some plan. It’s not about everything happening the way we want—but trusting that it is happening the way someone wants.”