The Sunlit Man

by Brandon Sanderson

“So, Aux,” Nomad said in Alethi as they waited. “Are we going to talk about how you went against my explicit orders and contacted Wit?” The knight shuffles uncomfortably beneath his squire’s pointed question, Aux said. He tries to reply with confidence, but the nervousness in his voice betrays him. “What did you hope would happen?” Nomad asked. “Did you think Wit would sweep in here, prop me up with one of his little morality tales, and I’d just go back to whistling?” I remember…revelations in light. Transformation. “Those were rare days,” Nomad said, shifting his gun against his shoulder. “Most change doesn’t happen with a revelation in light, Aux. Most change happens as a slow, steady slide toward the pit. Like how we age, step by shuffling step toward the grave.” You don’t age anymore. “My body might not,” he whispered, “but my soul sure does. It’s been rounding that pit for years. Step by step, Aux. We wear away. Ideals are like statues in the wind. They seem so permanent, but truth is, erosion happens subtly, constantly.”