You have not felt what I have. You have not known what I have. You rejected that chance—and wisely, I think.

Accompanied by several of her scholars and an entire host of soldiers, Navani arrived at the scene of the explosion. It was less damaging than she’d feared when reading that initial spanreed report: only two dead, and the explosion had destroyed the contents of only a single room in the tower.

It was still deeply troubling. The two dead were Nem and Talnah, the lensmakers, astronomers, and gemstone experts. The destroyed room was their shared laboratory. Thousands of broams’ worth of equipment ruined. And one invaluable sphere.

Szeth’s sphere. The Voidlight one that Gavilar had considered most important out of all his strange spheres. As Navani stood in the hallway outside the destroyed room—smelling smoke, hearing the weeping of the cleaning woman who had first rushed to help at the sound of the detonation—she had a sinking feeling.

She had caused this somehow by asking those two women to study the sphere. Now she’d likely lost it and the lives of two expert scholars. Storms. What had happened?

The guards wanted a scholar to inspect the room for other possible dangers before letting Navani enter. She probably could have ordered them aside, but they were just doing their best to keep her safe. So she let Rushu go in first. Navani doubted that anything dangerous could have survived what seemed to be complete destruction—but then again, she’d never known a fabrial or sphere to explode.

Rushu slipped out a short time later and nodded for her to enter. Navani stepped in, her shoes grinding against broken glass as she surveyed the wreckage. Smoldering wood marked the remnants of tables. The bodies were under several bloody sheets. Not two sheets: five. For two corpses. Storms.

Navani picked through carefully, avoiding larger bits of broken glass. The smoke was nearly overpowering. Civilized people used spheres for light, and she rarely kept a hearth burning these days. Smoke was a dangerous scent.

If anything was salvageable in the mess, Navani didn’t spot it. And of course there was no sign of the strange sphere.

Rushu stepped up beside Navani. “I … had dinner scheduled with Talnah later this week…” she whispered. “We were … were going to talk about weather readings.…”

Navani steeled herself. “I need you to do something for me, Rushu,” she said. “Catalogue everything in this room. Don’t let the soldiers move a single bit of glass. Remove the bodies, see them properly cared for, but otherwise leave this room pristine. Then go through every inch of it. Save every scrap of paper. Every broken lens or cracked beaker.”

“If you wish, Brightness,” Rushu said. “But … if I might ask … why? What do you hope to find?”

“Have you ever known a fabrial accident to cause an explosion like this?” Navani asked.

Rushu pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “No.”

“I have some details on what they might have been working on. I’ll explain them to you later. For now, secure this area. And Rushu, please don’t get distracted.”

The ardent glanced again toward the shrouded corpses. “I doubt that will be a problem this time, Brightness.”

Navani nodded and moved out, walking toward where the prisoner was being kept—the voiceless man who had delivered the ruby. She also sent for a few Radiants to see if they could identify him for certain. She didn’t know if this explosion was tied to the mysterious communications she’d been getting—but things had certainly been off about the tower lately. And she had grown tired of wanting answers.

*   *   *

By the time the second hour had passed—judged by the Rhythm of Peace—Venli’s legs were aching, her breathing ragged from the hike. As a Radiant, she could have used Stormlight to strengthen her. But that would have been far too dangerous.

She would have to be satisfied with the strength her Regal form gave her. Certainly she was better off than an average singer would have been. The rest of the force, however—in stormform—was stronger than she was, and Raboniel kept an aggressive pace.

Each moment became excruciating, and Venli focused only on taking the next step. Yet Raboniel kept pushing. No breaks. No rests. Onward, ever upward.

Timbre thrummed inside her, helping with a comforting rhythm. Venli used that to keep herself moving, putting one leaden foot in front of the other. After what seemed like an eternity, light shimmered in the tunnel ahead. She tried to smother the spark of hope that gave her. The last twenty times, the light had been only a sphere lantern set into an intersection, placed by the humans to help navigate.

Raboniel called a halt. Venli leaned against the side of the tunnel, breathing deeply but as softly as she could. And the wall … the wall was straighter than the ones below. This was of worked stone. And shadows moved in the light ahead.

They were here. Finally. The tunnel had come up beneath the city of Urithiru, and would now emerge into the basement chambers. Squinting, Venli made out the source of light—a large wooden door up ahead, glowing at the edges. And … there were lumps on the ground. Guards who had been killed silently by the Deepest Ones.

Other than the light around the door, the only illumination came from the red-ember eyes of the people around her. The sign that a person’s soul had been mingled with that of a Voidspren. Her own eyes glowed as well, lying on her behalf. She had a Voidspren too; Timbre simply held it captive.

Some of the nearby eyes sank, then vanished as the Deepest Ones slid into the stone. The rest of them waited in agonizing silence. This was the point where their invasion was most likely to be thwarted. Deepest Ones worked well as surprise troops, but—from planning meetings she’d attended—she knew they didn’t have the skill or strength to challenge Radiants in direct battle. So if Radiants could be gathered to defend the crystalline heart of the tower, they could rebuff this attack.

Venli waited, tense, sweat from the climb dripping down her cheeks and from her chin.

The door ahead rattled. Then opened.

A Deepest One scout stood beyond. As soon as Raboniel started moving, Venli shoved forward, staying at the front of the crowd as they passed into the basement chamber.

It was a horrific scene. The bodies on the ground included a few soldiers, but were mostly human scholars—women in dresses or priests in their robes. A couple were still alive, held to the ground by arms that reached up out of the stone. Most of those who were dead had been away from the walls, and it seemed Deepest Ones had dropped from the ceiling to grapple them. It had all been accomplished without a single human crying out.

Venli shuddered, imagining being pulled to the floor while other arms reached up to grab your mouth and neck. The living humans struggled with wide eyes. Some of those phantom hands had long knifelike carapace fingernails. One at a time, they slit the throats of the captives.

Venli looked away, sick to her stomach. She had to walk through blood to follow Raboniel toward the center of the room—and the monolith of crystal that stood here. The wide pillar was made of a thousand different gems. Other than the tunnel they had emerged from, only one exit led from this circular chamber: a larger, well-lit corridor with tile murals on the walls and ceiling.

“I hope your slumber is peaceful, Sibling,” Raboniel said, resting a hand upon the imposing pillar. “You shall not awake, at least not as yourself.”

Voidlight—glowing violet on black—surged along Raboniel’s arm. She’d said she would need time to accomplish her task: corrupting the pillar and fully activating the tower’s defenses, but in a way that muted Radiants, not Fused.

Please, Venli thought to the Rhythm of the Lost, let it happen without more killing.

*   *   *

“Can’t believe how dead this place is,” Teft said as they passed through the winehouse.

“I’d guess a lot of the patrons were soldiers,” Kaladin said, gesturing toward Adolin’s corner booth. It felt strange to visit without him and Shallan. In fact, it felt strange to be going out anywhere without those two.

Kaladin tried to remember the last time he’d gone out for fun without Adolin forcing him. Skar’s wedding? Yes, Lyn had made him go right before their breakup. That had been the last time he’d gone out with Bridge Four.

Blood of my fathers, he thought, sliding into the booth. I really have been withdrawing from them. From everyone. Except Adolin, who wouldn’t stand for it. Half the reason Kaladin had begun courting Lyn was due to Adolin and Syl conspiring against him. Storming man. Storming spren. Bless them both. Though the relationship hadn’t worked out, he could now see that they’d both grown because of it.

Teft went to fetch drinks. Orange for both of them. As Kaladin settled into the seat, he noted some of the scratched-in sketches Shallan had done with a knife on the tabletop. One was a rather unflattering picture of him in oversized boots.

When Teft returned, Kaladin eagerly took a long drink from his mug.

Teft just stared at his. “What happens if I get some red?”

“Tonight? Probably nothing. But you’ll get it next time.”

“And then I’ll get some violet,” Teft said. “Then something clear. Then…” He sighed, then took a sip of the orange. “This is storming unfair, you realize.”

Kaladin held out his cup. Teft clicked his against it.

“To unfairness,” Kaladin said.

“Storming straight,” Teft said, then downed his entire mug at once in an impressive display.

Syl darted in a short time later. The place wasn’t busy, but there were some people about. Relaxing into their seats, complaining jovial complaints, laughing ornery laughs, all of it lubricated by a little alcohol.

That stopped when Rlain stepped in behind Syl. Kaladin winced at how obvious it was. The people of the tower knew about Rlain—he was nearly as famous as Kaladin—but … well, Kaladin heard what they said about him. The “savage” that Dalinar had somehow “tamed.”

Many treated Rlain like some dark unknown quantity that should be locked away. Others, ostensibly more charitable, spoke of Rlain as some noble warrior, a mystical representative of a lost people. Both groups shared a similar problem. They saw only their own strange ideal of what he should be. A controversy, a curiosity, or a symbol. Not who he was.

Though Rlain seemed not to notice the way the winehouse grew quiet, Kaladin knew that was a front. The listener always noticed. Still, he crossed the room with a ready smile—he often exaggerated his facial expressions around humans, to try to put them at ease.

“Teft,” he said, taking a seat. He looked to Kaladin. “Sir.”

“Just Kaladin now,” Kaladin replied as Syl flew up to settle onto his shoulder.

“You might not be in command anymore,” Rlain said with a slight cadence to his words, “but you’re still the captain of Bridge Four.”

“What did you think all that time, Rlain?” Teft asked. “Carrying bridges against your own kind?”

“Didn’t think a ton at first,” Rlain said, trying to flag down a passing server. She jumped, then quickly moved in the other direction to tug on the arm of a more experienced server. Rlain sighed, then turned back to Teft. “I was in Damnation, same as the rest of you. I wasn’t thinking about spying; I was thinking about surviving. Or about how to get a message to Eshonai—she was our general.”

His demeanor changed, as did his tone, the cadence to his words becoming slower. “The first time I almost died,” he said, “I realized that the archers would have no idea—from a distance—who I was. They couldn’t see my pattern. It had been discussed what we’d do if the humans ever started using parshmen for runs, and we’d decided we had to drop them, same as humans. Then there I was, staring at my friends, knowing they would do their best to kill me.…”

“That’s terrible,” Syl said, causing Teft and Rlain to glance at her. Apparently she’d decided to let them see her. “That’s so terrible.…”

“It was war,” Rlain said.

“Is that an excuse?” she asked.

“An explanation,” Teft said.

“One used to explain too much,” Syl said, wrapping her arms around herself and growing smaller than usual. “It’s war, you say. Nothing to be done about it. You act like it’s as inevitable as the sun and storms. But it’s not. You don’t have to kill each other.”

Kaladin shared a glance with Teft and Rlain, the latter humming to a mournful cadence. She wasn’t wrong. Most everyone would agree. Unfortunately, when you got down to the bloody details, it wasn’t so simple.

It was the same problem Kaladin had always had with his father. Lirin said you couldn’t fight without perpetuating the system, eventually causing the common people to suffer more than if you’d refused. Kaladin found fault in that reasoning, but hadn’t been able to explain it to Lirin. And so he doubted he could explain it to a piece of divinity—a literal embodiment of hope and honor.

He could just do his best to change what he could. That started with himself. “Rlain,” Kaladin said. “I don’t think I’ve ever apologized for what we did in desecrating the bodies of the fallen listeners to make armor.”

“No,” Rlain said. “I don’t think you ever did, sir.”

“I apologize now. For the pain we caused you. I don’t know if there was anything else we could have done, but…”

“The sentiment means a lot to me, Kal,” Rlain said. “It does.” They sat in silence for a short time.

“So…” Teft eventually said. “Dabbid.”

“I saw him yesterday,” Rlain said. “He stopped by the fields, but didn’t do much work. Wandered around a bit, helped when I asked him to run an errand. Then he faded away.”

“And you couldn’t find him today?” Teft asked.

“No, but the tower is a big place.” Rlain turned around, glancing toward something Kaladin couldn’t see. “Bad day to get lost though…”

“What do you mean?” Teft asked, frowning.

“The Everstorm?” Rlain said. “Right. You can’t hear the rhythms. You can’t feel when it passes.”

Kaladin had forgotten again. Storms, being up here in the tower felt like being blind. Losing a sense you’d always had—in this case the ability to glance at the sky and know if a storm was happening.

Teft grunted, finally getting one of the servers to come over so he could order some red for Rlain.

“How worried should we be about Dabbid?” Rlain asked.

“I don’t know,” Kaladin said. “Lopen always looked after him. I want Dabbid to join the program Teft and I are setting up. To help people like him. Like us.”

“You think it will get him talking?” Rlain asked.

“At any rate, I think listening to the others could help him.”

“Don’t take this wrong, sir,” Rlain said. “But … has it helped you?”

“Well, I don’t know that…” Kaladin looked down at the table. Had it? Had talking to Noril helped?

“He’s been avoiding joining in,” Teft said.

“I haven’t,” Kaladin snapped. “I’ve been busy.”

Teft gave him a flat stare. Storming sergeants. They always heard the things you weren’t saying.

“I need to get the program up and running first,” Kaladin said. “Find all the men who’ve been tucked away in dark rooms, and get them help. Then I can rest.”

“Pardon, sir,” Rlain said, “but don’t you need it as much as they do? Maybe it would be restful to participate.”

Kaladin turned away, and found Syl—on his shoulder—glaring as hard as Teft. She’d even given herself a little Bridge Four uniform … and was he wrong, or was it more blue than the rest of her body? As their bond deepened and she entered this realm more strongly, the variety, detail, and hues of her forms were improving.

Maybe they were right. Maybe he should take part more in the meetings with the battle-shocked men. He just wasn’t sure he deserved to divert resources or time from them. Kaladin still had a family. He had support. He wasn’t locked away in darkness. How could he worry about himself when others needed him?

His friends weren’t going to relent on this, he could tell. All three of them, bullying him together. “Fine,” Kaladin said. “I’ll join the next meeting. I was thinking about it anyway.”

They acted like he was avoiding getting help. But he’d stepped down as Dalinar demanded. He’d started working as a surgeon. And he had to admit it was helping. Being with his family, talking to his parents, knowing he was wanted and needed … that helped more.

This project though, finding those who were like him, alleviating their suffering … that would help the most. Strength before weakness. He was coming to understand that part of his first oath. He had discovered weakness in himself, but that wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Because of that weakness, he could help in ways nobody else could.

Syl glowed a little brighter on his shoulder as he acknowledged that, and he felt a warmth within. His own darkness hadn’t gone away, of course. He continued to have nightmares. And the other day when a soldier had handed Kaladin his spear, it had … Well, it had made him panic. That reaction reminded him of how he’d refused to hold a spear when first training Bridge Four in the chasms.

His illness stretched all the way back to before that time. He’d never treated it—he’d merely kept heaping on the stress, the pain, the problems.

If this went well, maybe he wouldn’t ever have to pick up the spear again. And maybe he’d be fine with that. He smiled at Rlain. “It has been helping,” he said. “I think … I think I might be putting myself back together, for the first time in my life.”

*   *   *

Venli could see the exact moment when the tower broke. Raboniel stood, her hands on the pillar, glowing fiercely with Voidlight. The pillar, in turn, began glowing with its own light: a vivid white, tinged faintly green-blue. This light that seemed to transcend the type of gemstones in the pillar. The tower was resisting.

An alarm sounded from the corridor; the invasion had been noticed. Raboniel didn’t move, though Venli pulled back against the wall—trying not to step on corpses—as a hundred stormforms pushed out into the corridor.

Shouting humans, clashes of metal, cracks of sound. Any moment now, the Radiants would arrive and shear through the Regals and Deepest Ones like a flash of lightning on a dark night. Still Raboniel worked, calmly humming to a rhythm that Venli did not know.

Then finally it happened: the Voidlight moved from Raboniel into the pillar. It infused a small section of the majestic construction, crawling into an embedded grouping of garnets.

Raboniel stumbled away and Venli managed to dash over and catch her, keeping her from tumbling to the ground. Raboniel sagged, her eyes drooping, and Venli held her tight, attuned to the Rhythm of the Terrors.

Cries continued in the hallway outside.

“Is it done?” Venli asked softly.

Raboniel nodded, then righted herself and spoke to the rest of the singers gathered in the tunnel leading to the caverns. “The tower is not fully corrupted, but I have achieved my initial goal. The tower’s defenses have been activated and inverted to our favor. The Radiants will be unable to fight. Go. Give the signal to the shanay-im. Seize the city.”