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Chapter Text

Interlude II

Kaladin groaned. His friend was asking him to explain a very delicate and complex topic. One that he didn’t think he was equipped to answer. The highprince had arrived at his father’s clinic abruptly this morning. Kaladin had already heard from Skar about the fallout between Adolin and his former wife. Rumors tend to spread quickly when someone’s spotted in public naked, so Skar took it upon himself to explain it to his former captain before the truth became any more distorted. The once apprentice surgeon had already planned to pay his friend a visit to check on him after what Syl had reported to him.

“Why not ask Jasnah? She’ll be able to answer this much better than I can?” he asked.

Adolin, paced nervously, having picked up his father’s habit. “It’s about Shallan. She…” He stopped and sat down instead. Kaladin took a chair as well, now understanding the reason for his friend’s agitation, and he wasn’t going to be able to avoid the conversation.

“She had an abortion?” the former bridgeman asked softly. The highprince had asked him to explain “how it worked.” Showing him how to perform a leg amputation would have been infinitely easier.

“I’m not sure.  But I can’t reveal it to Jasnah. I don’t think Shallan would want her or anyone in my family to know. She would never forgive me for that.”

She had left almost two years ago. If Shallan had aborted their child, then it would have been around that time. Why was she compelled to disclose it now? Was it another one of her lies? Or perhaps, she was seeking her own forgiveness.

“What did she say to you exactly?”

“That she killed our baby. That she was a murderer.”

Kaladin considered those words. He had some understanding of the Shallan’s traumatic upbringing and mental health problems. The multiple identities she created and inhabited, as well as her desire to go off world had its roots in that trauma. She sought escape and freedom. But she was never irrationally violent or cruel. Well…as far as he knew.

“Adolin, that doesn’t sound like Shallan. I mean even if there is truth to it. Those words were intended it to hurt in the worst way possible.”

The highprince put his hands to his head, and groaned, brushing his dual-colored hair back in frustration. “I don’t know what to do Kal. I love her. But I need to understand what happened. And she won’t let me talk to her. I don’t even know where to find her.”

“Let’s say, worst case, she killed the child. She was sane and killed the child. What would you do?”

Adolin shook his head. “That’s not possible. She’d never do that. She’d never harm anyone intentionally without a reason.”

Kaladin nodded.

The highprince had already considered that scenario. Adolin understood his former wife better than his friend did. “But that’s why she couldn’t have killed a child.” And even though he understood her reasons, it didn’t ease his heartbreak when she had left. “She didn’t want to be a wife or mother. She wanted to be free. A pregnancy would have trapped her again.”

“And so you came to me asking, ‘How do women have an abortion?‘”

“Yes.” As an Alethi man, for Adolin, the business of birth control, abortions, child-bearing and child-rearing were as foreign as reading the Polite Lady’s Handbook to Courtship and Family. Alethi omen found ways to deal with it, often without the man’s knowledge. Otherwise, a highborn man could task a trusted aide to handle it. And the man could remain ignorant of the actual details.

“Why does it matter, ‘how’?”

“It just does, Kal.” Adolin rubbed his forehead. “I’m afraid if I ever see her again, all I can think of is how our child might have suffered. Even if it is painful, I’d rather know than guess.”

Adolin recalled the gruesome details that he uncovered when he had explored the ugly truth revealed to him on the day of the contest.  

But you have never met a singer-human child. Isn’t that so, my lord? Spark, the ashspren bonded to Malata had said to him.

They were all killed. Most of them right after birth. If the baby were a product of two slaves, they would be too valuable to lose. It was easy to identify the half-breeds.

Kaladin grimaced. Adolin’s line of questioning was likely going to end badly for the both of them. But he felt compelled to explain it to him. If it could at least result in one less ignorant man.

“Firstly, there’s a difference with what we did before Radiants. A very important one.”

As the occasional surgeon spoke, Adolin poured a cup of water for himself and his friend. Kaladin nodded thanks and took it.

He continued, “Before we had Radiants, in the earliest stages of the pregnancy medications could take care of it. But as the child grows, that’s not feasible. And then there are surgical alternatives. If the child was born, in my hometown they would be adopted. But I’m not aware of what light-eyes used to do.”

The implication was clear to Adolin. Likely killed as they did the hybrid babies or abandoned to hide the disgrace. Once again, the shame he felt about his heritage flooded through him.

He sighed, and said, “And now, with the Radiants?”

Kaladin sat back and drank the water, considering how to best explain this to his friend who was neither a Radiant nor a woman. And despite his flaws, he considered him one of the best and most honorable persons he’s ever known. In that way, he reminded him of Dalinar.

“Before I talk about that. One other thing you need to understand is that many woman miscarry, that’s when the woman loses the baby… naturally. As high as twenty percent. You’ll note that some siblings are born almost a decade apart- and conceiving then losing in between those years, is often the reasons.”

Like how Jasnah and Elhokar were seven years apart? And like his friend, occasional teacher and counselor, sitting before him. Oroden, Kaladin’s brother was almost two decades younger than him, even if factoring Tien, who was two years younger than Kal.

“I’m not going to go into methods of birth control- I think your head would explode.”

Adolin frowned- among many light-eyes, especially when carousing with fellow soldiers- there was a running joke about the best method of birth control to prevent bastard children- and it was disgusting. He hated it.

The highprince again thought how terrible light-eyed men could be, especially how some treated women. But what did he even know about dark-eyed men. Worse, he, at nearly thirty-years old had minimal understanding of any of this. Did being willfully ignorant absolve him of any of the blame? And he knew, resoundingly, the answer was no.

“Go on,” he said timidly.

“Now that there are Radiants. Things are different, safer for the mother, but it’s too simplistic to call it easier.” Kaladin set his cup down. The harder parts were coming. “You recall that when someone becomes Radiant their body can transform considerably?”

Adolin nodded, recalling the King of the Reishi Islands- formerly a woman, who became a man when he obtained his Dustbringer powers.

“And remember when I had my scars? I already spoke the third ideal, and yet I couldn’t remove them.” Adolin looked at his good friend thoughtfully, noted his forehead, finally free of those haunting scars.

“Well, these powers and even an Edgedancer’s powers do not heal scars or a wounds we perceive as a part of us. It helps us transform into who we ought to be. It reveals our identity, our Soul.”

Realization began to seep into Adolin, and he continued to listen to his friend, intently.

“If there’s a miscarriage or a person is not ready to become a mother – not yet ready to accept the pregnancy. No amount of Stormlight or even Lifelight can heal it. In fact, it just disappears.”

Usually, Adolin disliked being contemplative. Easier to live in the moment. And now thinking about this topic, left him only feeling more distressed. He swallowed hard then asked the next difficult question. “So if the baby is healthy, does using Stormlight kill it?”

“Are you asking if by disappearing, does it mean that we kill it? That it’s dead?”

Adolin nervously nodded, then downed the rest of his water.

“What do you consider dead? The lack of a physical body? Or do you mean the soul? And what about tangible objects- is the cup of water your holding alive now or dead?”

“Inanimate objects have souls in the cognitive realm until we forget about them, right?”

“True. And human and singer souls appears as lights right? But what about animals, cremlings, worms? Where are their souls?”

“There’s an equivalent for them in the Cognitive realm?”

“We think so, but it can be surprisingly difficult to prove.”

“We’ve tried to prove it?”

Kaladin, knit his brow in frustration. Had his friend been living under the rock? Jasnah had led a series of experiments about this very question. And even wrote a book on nature and philosophy about it. The reason Kaladin learned to read was so he could read the book for himself. But he also understood why his friend was ignorant- Adolin, as heartbroken as he was, had little interest in anything outside of duty and obligation these past two years. Kaladin pondered to himself, whether clinging on to that love love was worth the pain his friend had experienced and continued to feel now. But that was not his decision. Not his place to judge.

He sighed, then continued his explanation. “Do you know what a microscope is?”

“You mean the thing that’s a really strong magnifier?”

“Yes. Did you know that there are probably thousands of tiny creatures- little animals that live among us. That even live inside of us?”

Adolin’s eyes widened slightly. He lifted the back of his hand to his face, staring at his own skin briefly.

“Really?”

“Basically, they are too small for us to see- but with certain tools we can see them. In the Cognitive Realm, we have a similar problem- we can’t see each living thing’s equivalent. Size isn’t even an issue. It’s not proportionate. That’s also what Jasnah proved. We simply don’t have the right tools to see or sense everything in this place, let alone in the Cognitive realm.”

Adolin bowed his head down, arms crossed. Kaladin noting how he overwhelmed he appeared, considered switching the subject. But then the light-eyed man pushed for more.

“But what happens, Kal?” Adolin entreated, eyebrows knit with worry. “What happens if we can see their soul, and then...” His eyes began to water. “We make them disappear in this world?”

Kaladin moved his chair over to his friend and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Like I was saying, not all of them have souls that we can see. We aren’t even able to determine an exact time that it appears after conception. But for the ones we can see, they do disappear.”

“So, are we just killing unborn children then?” Adolin shrugged off his friend’s hand. As a surgeon, he may have assisted in these abortions. “How can we let this happen?”

Kaladin, sat back in his chair, and groaned, feeling more irritated than empathetic. “Adolin, I don’t think you understand. This is exactly how Jasnah explained it in her book. It’s cruel to call it killing children, especially when this is happening to a woman’s body. You’d never had to consider this, but are you sure none of your other partners have had to face this decision? Alone?” That rebuke was enough to silence the highprince.

The former bridgeman, sometimes surgeon, and Roshar’s first mental health expert further explained. “Firstly, we know souls are never destroyed, and they all return from the same infinite space where they are created. Secondly, thanks to your aunt and cousin, we have alternatives to offer. Edgedancers can heal a child who is removed and grow them, especially using Towerlight which contains both Stormlight and Lifelight. That is the decision of the mother. Given the years of warfare and killing, children are always adopted or cared for by the government. Otherwise our population could not recover. When we shame women and those who help them for this decision, it only makes it more difficult to provide safer alternatives like this.”

Adolin placed his cup down, then sank back in his chair. He’d been such a fool. An illiterate, basic fool. He didn’t deserve Shallan. Kaladin, noting his friend’s worsening disposition, offered a bit of hope.

“Look, in the experiment where Jasnah and her team saw the child’s soul disappear, this was a child who was wanted and desired. It was deformed though. And no manner of Stormlight, Lifelight or Towerlight could heal it. Sometimes we just aren’t meant to exist in this realm yet.”

Adolin brushed his hands through his hair again. It was really another nervous habit. “I’m such a fool, Kal. I should have looked for Shallan and offered my support, rather than come here and question her actions. Trapped in an arranged marriage with an idiot like me before she was twenty, then pregnant. God knows where she was or who was there for her when she had to deal with it. I need to find her.”

“Are you sure, Adolin? I think she made her decision very clear.”

“Absolutely, I need to try again. But more than that I want her to understand that she has nothing to forgive. Thank you, Kal, for being here for me. For helping me understand.”

Adolin hugged his friend, which was still as awkward for Kaladin as it always was. The act was distinctly not unmasculine in Alethi culture. Perhaps in that way Adolin was more progressive than he was. But Kaladin never refused a hug, especially from his bridgemen comrades, and especially not from his biological brothers.

“I have one more question though, Kal. Can you tell me more about birth control?”

Kaladin prepared another groan, but then the door opened, and Hessina walked in with her husband Lirin and Oroden in tow. And then a brilliant idea came to Adolin. He would propose it to her when he found her, but a proposal would be the wrong word. Rather, it was better called an option.

Because he finally understood that all women deserve the ability to choose, to determine the life they wanted to live. As did all men. But throughout the recorded history of Roshar, many more women had been seldom free to do so.

That choice. Her choice. May be to leave him again.

But when you loved someone as much as Adolin Kholin did, sometimes the best thing you can do - the most loving act- is knowing when to let them go.

Chapter Text

Epigraph

Your body is away from me
but there is a window open
from my heart to yours.
From this window, like the moon
I keep sending news secretly.

- The Window by Rumi, 13th-century Islamic poet and scholar

---

There were certain days in which Navani would prefer to jump off the Tower and be done with it. But she knew it was futile. It wasn’t easy for the Sibling’s Bondsmith to die.

A decade ago, she was very close. But it had not been her time yet. They had needed her. To organize the chaos after the loss of the contest. To take responsibility. To remain their Queen.

They had considered replacing that title with something less authoritarian. But the last vestiges of a dynasty are always the most resistant to change. More so, in the last ten years she and her daughter had cultivated and reimagined a very different kind of leader, who was also called queen.

Slavery had been banned. They had negotiated a treaty with the singers and with the spren. Urithiru was open to all. Under Jasnah’s meticulous, occasionally forceful planning, this was as close to a democracy they could usher within a single lifespan without having to cut off the heads of those who had held power.

They finally had a sustainable peace - a luxury that came at a great cost. The memorials they built would never capture the extent of their loss.

Nowadays they only suffered the tedium of everyday life. Which was worse for some, and especially for an inquisitive person like Navani Kholin who craved mental stimulation.

At the moment, the Queen of Urithiru considered a more apt title for herself - the Tower Custodian.

“Your highness,” the dark-eyed woman pleaded. “My family has been on the waitlist for more than a year, can’t you do anything to accommodate us?” Without any subtlety, she rubbed her large belly with both hands – safehand uncovered, as was the fashion these days.

It did not evoke any sympathy from the grey-haired queen. She had already reviewed the request and predicted the arguments that would be presented to her.  The answer was already clear to the experienced adjudicator. No.

“Madam, I can’t evict another family from their home,” the queen replied calmly, holding a set of papers in her hands.  “Unless you’ve found a volunteer, your case will be dismissed.” She sighed under breath. “Again.”

“But it’s not fair, we need the space more those whose only claim is that they arrived here first. Take my cousin Dru—”

“Your cousin Dru has lived in his quarters for over a decade.”

Dru’s cousin, however, had not done her research. It was unwise to use her cousin as an example, given his friendship with the queen. Though the expectant mother’s tenacity was laudable. There had to have been a dozen other appeals to overcome before she could present her complaint to the highest authority.

“His husband has been dead for a decade. One person has no use for that amount space. It’s selfish-”

“Young woman, can you deny the only reason you visited your cousin was to ask him to give you his residence?”

“But it’s logic. Two persons need more space. And this one is due in a few weeks.” She rubbed her belly again. “Ever since Drehy died, Cousin Dru has lived alone. Isn’t it about time he moved on?”

‘Moved on?’ Is she blind or merely an imbecile? A familiar voice spoke, one who was only heard by the queen.

Sibling, don’t be so harsh, Roshar’s most famous widow responded silently. She’s a first-time expectant mother. This space issue must have weighed on her heavily, among a thousand other concerns.

Ah. So, a pregnant imbecile.

Tower spren, like all bonded spren, tend to acquire similar traits and mannerisms to their Radiant. Just like siblings and couples who’ve lived together a long time do. But the Sibling wasn’t necessarily acting callous right now because Navani herself often was. They were both simply quite impatient when the solution was obvious. And the Sibling happened to be in a poor mood lately.

To outsiders, the conversation between the bonded pair was not more than a few seconds. As quick as a passing thought.

“Madam, grief has no timeline. Leave your cousin out of the conversation.”

“But you, yourself, relinquished your chambers years ago. And—"

“That’s enough.” The queen, stood up from her chair in her black dress. Despite having the title of a monarch, she always wore simple clothes. A different kind of pageantry was expected from her. “Our final answer is no,” she added.

It was true she had ceded their rooms many years ago. But it was not immediate. It had taken her a long time to accept that he may never return.

The queen held out an open hand to one of Urithiru’s citizens, her usual gesture at the end of all meetings. Gone were the days of literally bowing to authority. A handshake was the new expectation, a symbol of the partnerships required for the city to flourish.

The teary-eyed woman reluctantly accepted that extended hand.  

“My dear,” the older woman said gently. “The next Tower expansion will be complete in six months. And you will then have the option to choose a much larger accommodation for your family.”

“But there’s been so many delays already. What if it’s not done by the end of the year?”

Navani placed her gloved safehand over their clasped ones, then squeezed gently.

“Shema, may I call you that?” The young woman nodded as a trickle of tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I know waiting can be very difficult.” The Bondsmith heard the Sibling hum in agreement. “But even with the most careful planning, unexpected problems always arise. And if we rush the project, we would risk compromising everyone’s safety.”

The dark-eyed woman dabbed her tears with a handkerchief held in her other hand. “I understand,” she conceded.

“And please take the advice of a mother who has lived through it twice. An extra room won’t be needed in their first year or two. They need your constant attention. It would be easier to share your bedroom.”

“But what about the crying? My husband won’t like it.”

“Well, if your husband isn’t going to help care for his own child, maybe he could ask your cousin if he needs a roommate?”

The young woman frowned.

“But in all seriousness, try befriending your cousin,” the queen said. “Companionship is more valuable than a space within these walls.”

Navani let go of Shema’s hand and patted the expectant mother on the shoulder.

And then the queen opened a portal on the wall next to her, leaving the one-bedroom residence of one of her citizens. Her next destination, the Cloudwalk. She smiled, excited to meet with someone she had not seen in a long time. In contrast to the Sibling, lately, the Bondsmith had been in a great mood.

---

Tower portals only worked for her, as the fabric of Navani’s corporal existence was tied to the Sibling’s very soul. If anyone tried to walk in with her, they would only be greeted by stone.

But despite the convenience, this was nevertheless a small consolation for her involuntary confinement. It was a great pity that the engineer could no longer travel across Roshar on the very airships she designed. An invisible bubble surrounded the Tower, and when her physical body contacted it, she was instantly teleported back, materializing at Urithiru’s heart, its central pillar.

The Tower expansions increased her footprint a little. Urithiru was continuously outgrowing itself, and residential space was perpetually in high demand. They very carefully dug into the mountain slopes that flanked the main structure, thereby creating hundreds of new homes. Homes for private citizens. And without an invitation or good reason, the queen never intruded into that space.

In the end, a prison was still a prison no matter how many rooms were added to it.

There were certainly worse places to be trapped. The pretend widow didn’t need that reminder. She was at least surrounded by friends and family. And in many ways the world could come to her. Urithiru had been transformed into Roshar’s cosmopolitan mecca, a place where all people could intermix, trade goods, exchange ideas. Live together. Love one another.

All people. But not everyone. The one person she wanted to visit her the most was incapable of doing so.

And so, it seemed that the Sibling and Navani were destined to always remain in one place.

Urithiru’s most famous resident was greeted by the bright sun and crisp air as she stepped onto the stone path of the Cloudwalk. From its height, the neighboring mountain tops stretched below, gently hugged by misty white clouds.

They had set a time before peak visiting hours, but dozens of people were already gathered.

YOUR QUEEN APPROACHES, the Sibling suddenly announced.

Navani waved to her citizens as they looked in her direction. Some of the grayer-haired ones returned the gesture with a polite bow. But the upward turn of her lips belied Navani’s annoyance. It was not directed at her people, but at her spren who was acting childish again.

There was no need to draw attention for a private meeting. The crowd stared at her, half-expecting their monarch to deliver a speech or better yet, demonstrate a new gadget. After a few loud pauses, disappointingly, one by one they all turned away and continued about their business.

Are you really going to behave like this the entire day? Navani asked dryly. Our last day together?

And whose fault is that? the Sibling answered back with great irritation. Spren were so often extreme in their emotions. Fitting, as the word average is seldom used to describe magical god-like creatures.

You know who I would name, Navani replied without exasperation. But I’ll gladly confess, if it would brighten your mood. If this was to be their last day, better to be the bigger person and not escalate this into another argument. The Sibling’s subsequent silence was apology enough.

Navani looked over to the entrance of the research station and checked the time on her arm clock again.

Odd, he’s never late, she thought to herself. Perhaps he was inside already?

Except that for the past decade, it took a bit more focus to think only to herself.

No, her spren began. He only entered through the Oathgates a few minutes ago. But he will arrive here soon.

Now this was yet another useful skill. The Sibling’s ability to see, or rather sense, everything happening within itself. And by that extension, Navani could also be made aware, even when she was “disconnected” from the Tower.

Prudently, the queen and her daughter foresaw the potential dangers it could present. Accusations of privacy violations. Public distrust.

As such, strict rules for its use were drafted and approved by an elected committee. Every inch of the Tower would be demarcated as a public or private space. Navani swore to adhere to those rules. And because a Bondsmith’s oath was understood to be sacred, this was enough to quiet most critics.

The queen looked in the direction of the lifts for her apprentice, but was then surprised to instead hear his voice calling from behind her.

“Gram!” the tall, lanky teen shouted as he walked hurriedly over. He was carrying two large suitcases, one in each hand. Their weights were as close to even as possible. But despite the left-right balance, the young man struggled greatly taking those steps. Running would have been disastrous.

Gavinor Kholin was not, physically, the strongest living Kholin, but he was already the tallest at only fifteen years of age. His center of gravity was constantly working against him.

Navani turned around to greet her grandson. “Gav!” she cried out joyfully as she hurried to him. Some might consider the sexagenarian lithely for her age, but she was not that old. And despite her ability to portal, she much preferred to walk. It helped her think. A nod to the pacing habit she had picked up from her husband.

”Let me help you with that,” she said, slowing her stride as she neared him.

“No, I can do it,” the teen insisted as he blinked away the sweat that had dripped into his eyes. After his grandmother caught up to him, they slowly made their way back together.

“Why didn’t you just power up your arm fabrial and lighten the ---” She stopped short, but it was too late to take back the implication. “You’ve already reduced their weight, haven’t you?”

It would not be a stretch to say that Gavinor was, physically, the weakest living Kholin-- his much younger cousin included.

“Actually, Gram, this is all me,” he answered with a forceful laugh. “I could use the training.”

“You’ve used up all your Stormlight again, haven’t you?” his concerned grandmother guessed. “Maybe we should postpone-”

Gav stopped abruptly before the door to the building and carefully placed the suitcases on to the ground. Turning to her, he lightly gripped her shoulders.

“No,” he said firmly. “No more delays. The samples I’ve brought back reconfirm our previous findings. We are more prepared than we could ever be. There’s nothing more to double check. And tomorrow is your best chance to get there.”

He spoke with the same conviction of his Grampa, who in his prime years, was the strongest Kholin. But Gav was still so young – not close to his own “prime.” There was so much unrevealed potential that still needed to be nurtured.  

“The path will be aligned again in another decade,” she considered. “Though by that time there would probably be a more efficient way to get there.”

“Gram? Another decade?” Still holding her shoulders, he looked at her with the same pitiful eyes reserved for a person on their deathbed. “You’d be…”

Navani sighed. “Old as fuck.”

“Gram!” He let go of her, surprised.

“Oh you’ve been spending too much time with your uncles.” She flipped open the cover of her arm fabrial, turned a few dials and flipped a switch. “But yes, I’d be physically falling apart, if not also already mad from listening to yet another citizen squabble.” Far past peak physical condition.

Navani bent down to lightly touch each of the suitcases with her gloved hand, giving them a light upward lashing. She took one of them and motioned her grandson to grab the other.

“And I’ve only been gone for two months,” Gav said as he pushed open the door of the facility with his foot. He needed both hands for the suitcase.

“Which is a very long time for your grandmother! The last time you were away from me…”

“When I returned, you needed to increase your neck angle by 12 degrees to look at me,” he finished for her.

Navani smiled at his answer. Given how much time they spent together, predictably, Gavinor took after her. They shared a love of math and numbers. Imagining possibilities and engineering their realities. A natural scientist.

His grandmother frequently wondered if their closeness somehow took away the choice to follow a different path. And so, she found reasons for him to leave Urithiru and explore opportunities. Visit his uncles. Travel with his aunt’s retinue. Test one of their new airships. But home for Gavinor Kholin would always be in the lab working on an experiment with his Gram.

After they entered, they turned over the suitcases to a group of research assistants who were expecting them. Gav removed and hung up his jacket, then pulled a handkerchief from its pocket to wipe the sweat from his face and neck.

It was time for Navani to change too and take off her crown. She unbuttoned her black dress coat and carefully stowed it away. Experiments had the potential to get a little messy. Underneath that feminine silhouette, she sported a shirt, pants and sturdy work boots.

“Also, you don’t need to worry about my Stormlight usage,” Gav said as he handed a lab coat to his grandmother.  “Tomor can attest that I have everything under control.”

“Then why was your arm fabrial out of energy?”

“I traded it for a direct flight up from the gates. There was a huge crowd around the lifts, and I didn’t want to be late,” he clarified. “There just wasn’t a lot left in my device, and Tomor is still carrying all our infused spheres.”

That explanation seemed plausible, but Navani was in disbelief for another reason.

“But you detest flying!”

“And I hate being late even more! You see, I’m learning to overcome my flaws,” he boasted, while straightening out his lab coat for the second time.

Was harnessing one phobia to overcome another, being resourceful? Or terribly dysfunctional?

But her grandson’s list of anxieties was so very long. The cumulative effect was more often overwhelming if unchecked. Renarin deserved much of the credit for teaching him how to cope and even more important, making Gav feel that he was not alone.

“Flaws are what make us human,” Navani reminded him. “You can only moderate them as best you can.” She then passed to him a pair of lab gloves, to replace the cloth ones he always wore.

“Your Grampa didn’t like flying either,” she added.

He stared at the clear gloves for a moment, then asked, “Do I really remind you of him?”

“Yes, but the only persons you are allowed to compare yourself to are your past and future selves. Who you were and who you want to be.”

She had told Elhokar the same thing when he had struggled as king.

But who wouldn’t feel inadequate when everyone in your household had their name already written in the history books?  

Gav though, was no longer expected to inherit a kingdom. The legacy burdens of her son and her grandson were not quite the same.

“And you’ve come so far, Gav. I’m already so proud of who you are right now.”  

There was a time when he was so small. Too small for his age. Afraid to be touched. Almost mute. She looked at him now with her neck angled about 23 degrees up so she could behold his pure yellow eyes.

How much he had grown.

How much his Grampa had missed.

Bound to become the greatest scientist of his generation. But the reason he succeeded was not because he was ambitious. He was constantly afraid of failing. Of disappointing himself and everyone he cared about. Without his grandmother’s unconditional love, Gavinor Kholin would have never been freed from his own prison.

He placed his gloveless hand on her cheek and wiped away the tear rolling down from it.

Gav did not cry, but instead smiled at his Gram with his own trademark goofy grin.

“And you will be even more proud of me, when you return.”

They then hugged in front of the other scientists. It didn’t bother the onlookers as it might have a decade ago.

A lot had really changed.

After the display of affection, she said to him, “Give me your arm fabrial before you put your gloves on. I’ll have someone recharge it.”

Navani then walked over to an attendant and whispered the following before returning, “Recharge this and make sure the time is set correctly too.”

He had not realized that the clock on his arm fabrial had stopped. However, his grandmother suspected it, and ultimately thought it better to keep it a secret.

It would stir up his anxiety if he found out he had failed to arrive on time. It might even cause him to spiral.

She also doubted his story about how he ran out of Stormlight. Those minutes did not add up. That is, the clock stopped much sooner than how long it would have been to fly up from the Oathgates. 

But their time together was now so limited. Better not spoil it.

--

“So it really was Rushu’s presentation that tied up all the lifts,” Navani confirmed with her spren.

The queen was finally back in her room after another long day. But one that was filled with many pleasant memories. Most of her time was spent with those she loved.

Two words. The Sibling explained. Hover. Board.

“Hover board?” Navani paused to think. “Oh, you mean the personal anti-gravity self-stabilizing flight apparatus.”

She settled in a chair and began to brush out her long grey hair. Cutting it short had been tempting. It would have been convenient and also quite fashionable. But she didn’t think he would like it. Long hair was synonymous with femininity in Alethi tradition.

Unfortunately, PAGSSFA did not catch on. At the last event, only Rushu’s usual groupies attended.

“But it does a lot more than just ‘hover.’ And ‘board’ sounds so flimsy.”

Still feeling sour about your rejected proposal? the Sibling teased.

“Wind carrier would have been a fine name.”

Except in Reshi ‘wind carrier’ is a euphemism for fart.

“We could have altered the name specifically for them, but King Ral-na and Lift have the same type of humor. He would have insisted on keeping it.”

‘Look at me! I’m flying on a fart.’ ‘How may farts would you like to purchase?’ ‘When they break down, who fixes your farts?’ ‘Where can I stow my fart?’ ‘Is my fart secure here?’

Navani broke into a laughing smile, reminiscing with her companion.

“You know it was Wyndle’s fault for explaining it to her. Lift doesn’t even understand Reshi.”

But you cracked the first joke! And that’s when Wyndle broke, and Lift asked what we were talking about. That spren could never keep secrets from his Radiant.

“Did I?” Navani asked. Her memory was still as sharp as ever, but she did not recall saying anything funny.

You suggested an alternate name, don’t you remember?

“The Levitating AiR Craft Navigator – LARCN. Like the flying creatures from Aimia.”

The Sibling burst out laughing so exuberantly, that if they had a humanoid body, they would have been clutching at their abdomen and rolling on the floor.

Navani now recalled her brief confusion when Wyndle and her spren had responded similarly. But her follow-up questions were quickly cut off by Lift’s and her subsequent soliloquy about farts.

When the Sibling finally caught their breath -so to speak- they also caught on to their Radiant’s puzzlement. No distractions from silly Edgedancers this time.

As Connected as they were, it had initially been challenging for Navani to mask her thoughts from her spren. A clear intention to do so was necessary. But it often wasn’t possible to make that known before the thought had already been expressed.

An oath was vital. A promise to listen, then forget.

But nowadays the secrets between them were less and less.

The reason we laughed was because the idea of anyone riding on a larkin is ridiculous! The spren chuckled again, envisioning that image.

“Why? Because they’re small?” Chiri-Chiri, Rysn’s companion, had grown to the size of a small horse at their last visit. “But they are capable of growing quite large.”

Oh no, no, no. Not their size. Larkins are the most intelligent beings on Roshar. Transporting other creatures would be like….like… like a chull riding on a human. Downright absurd!

Navani paused and imagined flying atop the winged creature. Absurd? No. Majestic would still be the way she’d describe it.

“I see what you mean,” she reluctantly conceded. “But it’s not meant as an insult. It’s the opposite. We often choose names as an homage to someone important. Like how Gavinor, was named after his grandfather.”

I had always thought it was because he was dead.

“That’s called a necronym. But Gavinor would have likely been named the same, even if Gavilar had been alive. This naming practice is very common among kings and their male heirs. It upholds their legacy.” 

Seems a bit conceited.

“Perhaps,” Navani answered with a smile and genuine agreement. It was nice to be able to speak so freely with somebody else, even if it wasn’t him. “We humans need occasional reminders to keep our egos in check. Thank you for sharing your view with me.”

The acknowledgement was reminiscent of a previous one that was on a much larger scale. Humans no longer imprisoned spren to work their fabrials. They had been able to find a compromise. The Bondsmith had kept to her word.

Maybe I spoke to soon, The Sibling suggested. A name can revive fond memories of someone we love who is no longer with us. Like Maya.

“Leave it to Adolin to name his daughter after his sword. Thank goodness she wasn’t called something like Warhammer or Teethcracker. Mayalaran really is a beautiful name.”

Is it the same for you with Gavinor. Does he remind you of your first husband?

Navani had already finished brushing her hair and completed the rest of her night routine before heading to bed. But she remained there seated, staring at the mirror and at her own reflection, while considering her answer.

The truth was she had more often likened Gavinor to her son, Elhokar. And though there was a resemblance to Gavilar in the way their grandson could act, a fearless determination, she had attributed that to Dalinar’s character instead.

What a strange life she had led. In love with two men at the same time. Brothers, no less. Marrying both. And losing both. It was the stuff of silly romance novels, if there was an audience for middle-aged love.

Yet the one obsessed with legacy, the one she had stayed with for over thirty years, now occupied so little of her thoughts.

A wave of guilt washed through her.

“Deny it, Navani,” he snapped. “Deny that you loved one brother, but married the other. You pretended to adore a man you detested—all because you knew he would be king.”

But he was the one who had forfeited their relationship, treated her like a tool and discarded her. That’s how she had remembered it. And despite all of that, she still wrote his autobiography, hiding his faults and memorializing his achievements for generations.

A book though, and a life subsequently and unintentionally overshadowed by the brother she loved more. Gavilar Kholin would be better remembered as the older brother of Dalinar - King of Urithiru, leader of the Knights Radiant, and world martyr- who happened to be a king.

Her anger and guilt quickly dissipated into a pity, then sadness. After all these years and from beyond the grave, he could still stir such feelings within her. And he had dared to suggest she never loved him. Only love could be this vexing.

I’m sorry, Navani. Did I stir up bad memories?

Bad memories?

She had tried to erase them from her journals once. But it was impossible to rid them without removing some of the good. She had learned that together with the brother. The time she and Dalinar had that horrible fight, but on the day they made up. She recalled how difficult it was to leave that lumpy bed the next morning. How they had to tumble out of bed together.

How much she always missed him.

“Don’t apologize,” Navani said as she got into her own bed. “I should thank you for reminding me to burn a prayer for Gavilar before I depart tomorrow. It may be the last time anyone personally does that for him.” Jasnah didn’t believe in such things, and neither did Gavinor. Ardents would only do so out of duty.

It was time now to say goodnight, and Navani could sense anxiety rising within the Sibling. Today was their last day together. Tomorrow it would end.

Though the Tower spren was older than her by over a hundred-fold, Navani, a woman closer to the end of her life than the beginning, couldn’t help act maternal around them.

“We’ll be fine. Think of it as an adventure. You’ll forge new bonds and discover so many more interesting and diverse things. You won’t be alone, even if I’m gone.”

It had been over a millennia since their last Bondsmith left them, but that sense of loss still haunted the Sibling, even though memories of past events were always clouded.

I’m going to miss you, Navani, the Sibling said, their voice breaking. If they had eyes there would have been tears too.

“And I will dearly miss you too, my friend.” Kneeling on top of the bed, she touched the wall above it, tracing a garnet vein with her fingertips at first, admiring the beauty of the stone pattern. She then pressed both palms along its path and then her cheek against the wall. A warmth radiated into her. Navani held herself there for a season. This was the closest thing to a hug for them.

“Goodnight,” she finally said.

That phrase always signaled the end of their day and was also Navani’s request for time alone. But it wasn’t possible for her spren to stop listening. The best they could do was refrain from reacting and pretend they were not present. And then, they would forget the words as the oath compelled them to.

But today’s goodnight was different than all goodnights. Goodnight also meant goodbye. Their last day together, Connected. Their bond needed to be undone, so that she could finally leave.

The most difficult goodbyes are always the ones that might be the last. But the Sibling also understood her choice. Because every night for the past decade, they witnessed their current Bondsmith’s loss. The words disappeared, but the grief lingered.

Navani hugged his pillow to her chest as she laid in bed. She looked up, through the ceiling window. His planet wasn’t always in view, but tonight it was. A small orange dot in the sky, barely visible to the naked eye. She had traded their rooms for a place on the rooftop. It was where his body had died, but it comforted her knowing the elevation brought her a little bit closer to him when their planets were aligned.

“Gemheart,” she began. “Our grandson did something amazing today. He had someone fly him up the Tower. Only last month, he walked up the entire height of the tower instead, when the lifts stopped working.”

Years ago, Dalinar had planned to do the same in order to reach Urithiru’s rooftop and bond the Stormfather. But the woman he loved had not only discovered a fabrial lift, she also figured out how to make it operational. That allowed him to avoid climbing up over a hundred flights of steps.

Without intention, Navani Kholin had also secured her own legacy. She would be remembered as one of Roshar’s greatest scientist with an intelligence that was also matched by her great beauty. He had loved everything about her. Her kindness, her stubbornness, her passion and wit. Her realness. It’s no wonder that he thought it surreal that someone like her would love him back.

“Tomorrow is finally the day,” she continued. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to wait so long.”

On their own last day together, he had asked her to swear an oath.

Live on, protect our family, our people, the world. And keep me fondly in your memory.

“It’s time for me to go and protect you.”

She hugged his pillow more tightly. It didn’t smell like him, not because it faded, but because it never did. He had only used it for those days before the contest. The Fused had destroyed their rooms before he had returned. But it was still his pillow.

So instead, his wife remembered him. His scent, his touch, his warmth, as she hugged his pillow close to her chest.

“You’ll forgive me for growing old without you, but you’ve always preferred older women. That’s why you and Fen got along so well,” she said smiling. “I also won’t let you forget what you said before. If you’re not immediately dazzled by my mature beauty, I’ll just have to turn right back around.”

She ended with the same phrase every night, though those words never lost their meaning.

“I miss you.”

And in the voice that she loved so much, he imagined him speaking back to her. I miss you too.

Tonight however was different from all those other nights.

Although it had seemed that the Sibling and Navani were destined to always remain in one place, the engineer was not a novice when it came to overcoming the seemingly impossible. He needed another miracle, and as she had done once before for him, she had found a way. It required a lot more help, a lot more time and quite a bit of sacrifice. But there is no other formula to obtain the best things in life. And as unlikely as it might have seemed to him, she loved him as much as he loved her.

Before she drifted asleep, she finally said these words after a decade of waiting.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Chapter Text

I like missing you so hard because it makes me feel strongly that you are not a dream, you are real, you are living, and I'll meet you again.
-Simone de Beauvoir, 20th century French philosopher and writer

Navani Kholin woke up in her room at the top of the Tower.

Finally, alone.

Well, I’m still alive, she thought as she sat up in bed. That’s a good start.

Your standards have gotten lower with age, Navani imagined a voice say.

But all she heard was the silence as her feet touched the cold ground.

Her home was a single room. Four walls with a glass window outfitted into the ceiling. Simple accommodations for someone who never cared for extravagance. Her ability to portal anywhere in the Tower otherwise granted her access to whatever else she might need: the public bathhouses, the dining halls, dozens of meeting rooms...

Navani looked to the garnet vein along the wall above her headboard. It wasn’t glowing but its red crystals shimmered from the sunlight shining on it.

We’ll talk later, she thought. Independence is what I asked for. I shouldn’t immediately seek them out.

She did her morning stretches, then walked over to her vanity, where she wet a towel in the basin and then washed her face. It would have been easy for her to braid her hair without looking at the mirror, but she remained seated there anyway checking her reflection.

Ten years later, her face sagged in new places and there were lines that appeared without a smile or frown. The grey hair didn’t hide her age either. But it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it could have. A restful sleep always lifted her mood. And there was so much to look forward to today.

Then why are you inspecting yourself? she thought in their voice again. The Sibling was always good at keeping her honest. Maybe she should talk to them now and ask how they are getting along with the new Bond—

Navani paused. She caught a glimpse of a figure reflected in the mirror from the window above.

I guess I’m not as alone as I thought.

--

“I think she saw me!” Syl said in a pronounced whisper as she flew down from the roof. Her current outfit was an oversized poof in her signature light blue. Camouflage, she had called it. She was trying to impersonate a cloud, though the color was wrong, and it was uncommon to see clouds over the top of Urithiru. At least not the round fluffy type. Because of its altitude and the cold, they more often took the form of streaky wisps.

Kaladin chose not to correct Syl, largely because it would ruin her fun, and also because he suspected she knew the truth already. Her carefreeness and whimsicality were qualities he greatly admired in her, perhaps because he himself embodied little of either.

“She’s expecting us anyway,” Kaladin whispered back as he checked the time on his arm clock. “But the appointment isn’t for another fifteen minutes.”

Syl landed on his shoulder, changing into a surgeon’s outfit to mimic her Radiant’s role this morning. Styled of course with a bit more flair. Kal had neither the cap nor apron. He only wore the traditional physician’s cloak.

“Not going to scold me for snooping?” Syl asked as she put on imaginary gloves.

“If you’re asking, do I need to?”

She scrunched her face at first, then nodded. “I see your point, but I spy for everyone’s benefit. It saved you fifteen minutes of worry. And Navani is now aware of our arrival.”

“There are other worries remaining, Syl, but I appreciate the effort,” said Kaladin, as he stood at the edge of the rooftop, looking outward. Syl walked off his shoulder, down his arm and onto the top of a stone railing.

“Was this always here?” she asked, tapping her feet.

“You mean the railing?” Kaladin looked down to her, who nodded her reply. “No, but it was built as a safety precaution a while ago. The rooftop used to get a number of visitors, but the Cloud Walk has always been more popular.”

Syl transformed to her usual self, a young woman who never aged in a simple dress that would fit any culture, time or occasion.

“What happened?” She lowered herself and sat on the stone, hugging her legs over her skirt.

“They had sealed the entrance to prevent jumpers from making it up here,” he answered.

It had been over a decade since Kaladin had almost done it himself. At the Honor Chasm.

One more try, she had asked him.

But at that same time, she had also mistakenly retrieved the deadly Blackbane poison for him, thinking it would make him happy, regaining what he had lost. The irony had almost made him laugh.

It was at least enough to make him pause and listen to what she said – to feel how much she cared for him. Enough to pull him out of his despair. It was hard for him to shut her out. She had found a crack in the wall he had built and found a way in, like her windspren cousins always do. He was alive today because of her. And by extension, Syl saved the lives of so many others, with three simple words.

One more try.

Together now for over a decade, they admired the view of the twilight sky. A red-purplish hue mixed with yellows, reminiscent of watercolors bleeding into each other. The air was cooler up here and the gentle breeze made it even chillier. But Kaladin preferred this weather. The kind when a few more layers kept the warmth inside.

“It’s nice here,” Syl said. “Do you think they’ll ever reopen it?”

“The door will be unsealed today in preparation for the mission, but I’m not sure what they plan on afterwards.”

Syl stood up on the railing and turned to the direction of the queen’s residence. It looked tiny surrounded by the expansive empty space around it.

Isolated? Syl thought. Lonely?

She noted the exterior. A variety of colorful potted plants from all over Roshar adorned the perimeter. Some hung from the rafters. Others side by side on a low wooden tiered platform. Green and yellow leaves intermixed with a rainbow of colored petals and appendages. The warm glows from the curtained windows were visible in between, and the light emanating from the roof topped it off.

Cozy? Intimate?

Syl reconsidered what she had said earlier. Perhaps she should not have peeked through that window. Privacy must be respected, she vaguely recalled someone explaining to her.

But the desire to be alone was nearly inconceivable for the honorspren. Syl needed company. Whether it’s flying around the Tower with a fleet of her cousins or hanging out with her too often mopy Radiant, she could only thrive through her connection with others.

And so a decade ago when they lost the Stormfather, she gathered those connections and united her brethren to recreate the highstorms.

Though Towerlight could have sustained Urithiru, the rest of Roshar needed the highstorms. Odium had even taken away the Everstorm when he had left. And thousands of years of evolution could not be readapted without severe casualties.

Given their defeat after the contest, the Urithiru coalition was fortunate to have been the ones who created the solution. It helped soften the opinions of their enemies, the ones who demanded justice and reparations for the past crimes of the ruling elite.

War and conquest did not achieve the goal of peace. Instead, in contrary to the Alethi way, knowledge and science triumphed,

What were the three ingredients need to recreate a thunderstorm? Moisture, instability, lifting.

Water was plentiful- choosing the best locations required extensive research of records across the globe. That task belonged to Navani and her team of engineers, along with the temperature and force calculations. Hundreds of thousands of windspren would be called on to execute the maneuvers.

But a thunderstorm is not a highstorm. Stormlight could not be generated from the former. For that they needed Honor.

Or someone closely related.

The Ancient Daughter was the eldest of the Stormfather’s children, the only one to survive the Recreance. A few began to call her the Stormmother, which even now could send Syl into a non-stop gigglefest.

She was no one’s mother. Far too young to consider such a preposterous thing. Maybe in another ten thousand years or so. Stormsister or Stormaunt suited her, but neither name caught on. Besides, their highstorm required more than herself, despite how illustrious she was. Hundreds of her siblings and nieces and nephews, fellow honorspren, joined her.

Kaladin did too.

Similarly, Kaladin the Stormblessed Stomrider had not caught on either. Syl had needed him close by because the further she was from him in the Physical Realm, the weaker her mind and powers became. Back then, she’d basically turn into a windspren if she strayed too far.

That was then. Nowadays, they each held enough investiture to travel to opposite ends of Roshar without diminishing their powers. The Stormfather likewise remained Connected to his Bondsmith while independently thundering his way across Roshar.

They could be apart. But they’ve always preferred being near each other.

“Syl, it’s almost time for the appointment,” Kaladin said.

Already? She had wanted to inspect some of the plants in front of Navani’s home more closely. There were a few that looked completely foreign to her, and she had traveled across most of Roshar by now. How long had she been daydreaming?

She was terrible at tracking time. So many thoughts and distractions constantly entered her mind. Everything always went by too quickly.

It was time for another outfit change. A physician’s cloak like Kaladin, but she added on a headlamp, and she also grew a blue curled mustache. She felt it made her look more distinguished.

Kaladin raised his hand to knock on the door, but then the queen opened it first.

“Why is it that surgeons insist on checking on their patients before the crack of dawn?” Navani asked.

“Oh, I know!” Syl shouted excitedly. At the same time, she rushed inside, flying past her host, and set herself on top of the vanity mirror, which gave her the highest point to survey the room. It was her first time inside. She had already completely forgotten that moments ago she’d just admonished herself for encroaching on Navani’s privacy.

An open door was an invitation, was it not?

“To allow them time to operate on other patients the rest of the day,” Syl answered confidently. She’d spent enough time around Lirin to witness it herself.

“And how many more superglued souls will you be separating on today?” the queen jokingly asked.

“None, and I hope to never need to do so again,” Kal stated emphatically, he then clarified. “But we also round early to detect and intervene on post-operative complications as quickly as possible.”

In reality, the queen already understood this. The reason they exclusively operated in the dead of the night was to avoid complications, i.e. disruptions, happening during Urithiru’s busiest hours. There would be more time in the day to fix it or formulate a contingency plan, like it was when the lifts were out of order a few months ago. Windrunners and Skybreakers were well occupied that day.

It had taken them nearly eight years to do it. Separate the Sibling and Navani’s souls without killing or maiming either. A team of Dustbringers methodically divided them under Kaladin’s direct supervision. He was the only one who capable of seeing the distinction between the two. Operating with someone else’s hands was as difficult as it sounds. The process was slow, exhausting and painstaking. Occasionally the boundaries were too blurred, and he had to make a guess. They would then only cut back a miniscule amount, so they could check on the effects the following morning. It became the longest operation in the recorded history of the cosmere.

It was usually apparent if something malfunctioned within Urithiru, outages and malfunctioning systems were always quickly reported. But it was much more difficult to diagnose complications with the human. For that, tests were devised. Yet again by her hyper-intelligent daughter and administered by her physician.

“Kal, you know that regardless of the results, they won’t stop me from leaving today,” Navani said, while offering the chair across a small table.

He nodded as he took his seat. “You should at least know what they are and be better prepared.”

Yet, there was no way for them to reverse any damage. Once a piece of the soul was separated, it was gone. They couldn’t re-adhere or heal it. At best, Navani could relearn information or a skill that was lost.

“I’m sure the knowledge that Jayla Ruthar is my fourth cousin once removed will come quite handy on Braize.”

“I’m not opposed to questioning the questions, but I’ve learned to be very selective when it comes to challenging Jasnah. It’s saved me the trouble of having to listen to a lecture and then apologize thereafter for being wrong.”

“A lesson that a handful of unfortunate souls fail to learn, including the late former husband of my fourth cousin.”

At face value, that fact seemed unimportant, but it should have been unforgettable. Because as a child Navani was required to memorize every twiglet on her family tree. It was treated with the same importance as learning how to count numbers. If she could forget that, what else could she forget?

Fortunately, that was the only deficiency they were able to uncover, which was easily taught again. Moreso disturbingly, her mother’s near perfect accuracy was highly suspect to Jasnah. Memories, recollections of past events, are always flawed. Answers invariably change with the passage of time.

Did they cover enough topics across different stages of her life? Was there too much focus on memory, and not enough on logic and executive functions? How do you check that a person was still that same person? What were the right questions?

“Well, what has my daughter come up with this time?”

Kaladin reached into his coat pocket and took out a metal object, then set it on the table.

“What is this?” Navani asked as she picked it up.

“That’s the question I was told to ask you.”

Instinct told her it should be a fabrial, the likely subject of her final test. It had the look of a piece of jewelry as many earlier fabrials prototypes did. Fashioned from metal into an ornate lattice that could be worn on the wrist like a bracelet.

She slipped it over her gloved hand. It fit perfectly, accommodating for the added circumference. On her other wrist she already wore her usual fabrial.

Only one gemstone was set into it. One that was very familiar to the widow.

She had worn the darn thing for decades. Seen its details countless times. So even though it had been cut in half, she could still identify it by its telltale inclusions. To anyone else, those dark traces in the light purple stone were meaningless.

Navani looked up and caught Kaladin – and Syl- staring at the fabrial, as they waited for her to speak. The honorspren had returned to her most frequent form, the perpetually inquisitive young woman. She floated down from her vantage point for a closer look. Next to her, Kaladin appeared pensive, a step up from his habitual brooding.

“Am I correct to assume that neither of you know what this is?” the queen remarked.

“Yes, we’ve been asked to record, but not verify, your response,” Kal said.

“Then let’s deduce it together, shall we? Maybe I can ask some questions?” Navani said with a smile. In a teacherly voice she next asked, “Who can state the three major components of all fabrials?”

This time Syl raised her hand and waited to be called on, as she’d seen students do in class.

“Sylphrena?”

“Gemstones, metals and a willing spren,” Syl answered smiling.

“Exactly, right. And if we know the types of each component in this device, we should be able to discover its purpose.” Navani removed the fabrial bracelet and set it back on the table closer to them. “Kaladin, could you identify the gemstone and tell us its properties?”

Though he wasn’t a scholar, Kaladin at least knew his parings from his warnings. He took the device in his hands to inspect it himself.

“It’s an amethyst that appears split. Which means it is probably a reversal fabrial.”

“Yes! When an amethyst containing a spren is split, the gemstone pairs mirror the other but in the inverse. When one is lifted, the other is lowered,” she said while motioning with her hands. “A very large reverser was used to fly our first airship before we discovered more advanced techniques.”

At least a dozen chulls and hundreds of workers had been required to move the Fourth Bridge. They had made use of Urithiru’s altitude, which allowed them to lower the fabrial lattice to raise the vessel. Raysium, the God Metal they had once feared, was the breakthrough that allowed airships to become widely accessible. By transferring a spren half into a different sized gemstone, force could be multiplied greatly. Modern-day fabrial control panels could sit atop a large desk.

Kaladin brought the device closer to his face to look within the gemstone but said nothing more, before putting it back down.

“Oh, it appears that even the Son of Tanavast can’t see this spren in a dun gemstone. But we need this clue to unlock our mystery.”

“Will you infuse it?” Syl asked.

“No, we should only activate a fabiral when we need the spren for the purpose it has agreed on. Let’s check inside another way.”

“We could use a diamond sphere to shine light through it,” Kaladin suggested.

“Good idea, but nearby Stormlight would disturb the spren. It would be like letting the midday sun into a dark room. We need a more gentle transition.” Navani stood up and made her way over to her cabinets.

Syl on the other hand shrank herself a bit more and approached the fabrial on the table. She then made her nose disappear so that her face was flat as flat as possible, and she pressed her eyes directly on the surface of the gemstone. After completing her scan, she lifted her head, which snapped her nose back into place. She then turned to put her ear against the structure.

“Anything?” Kaladin asked.

“No snoring. So, it’s not a snorespren.”

One down, ten thousand other possibilities to go, Kaladin thought.

“I did see a dark shadow” Syl add. “But they might have been part of the amethyst.”

Dark shadow? Perhaps a gravityspren? How would those two halves work, opposite from another?

Before Kaladin could work out a possible answer, the queen returned holding a lit candle, carefully guarded with a cupped hand over its flame. He contemplated how rare it was to see a real fire now that Stormlight fueled everything. Light, heat, cooking. It was convenient, free, and much safer. But food always tasted better when cooked over a real campfire.

Navani set the candle on the table and took back the fabrial. “Unlike Stormlight, this flame has a warm tone that is similar to dawn, and the gentle warmth it emanates is comforting.” She aligned the gemstone part of the fabrial with it and pulled a magnifying glass from her pocket. “We are less likely to agitate and wake up our mystery spren.” She then slowly rotated the device in her hand, occasionally, shifting the position and angle of the magnifier.

Suddenly, a ring of blue smoke burst above her head. “How?!” she said with wide eyes. “How did she do it?”

Syl took the opportunity to observe as well. Floating above Navani’s hand, she looked through the glass.

“No way!” the honorpsren echoed. A ring made of hew own blue hair formed above her head, a substitute, as she couldn’t manifest lesser spren herself.

“This is a good thing, I hope. And not a bad thing,” Kal remarked.

“It should be an impossible thing.” Navani handed over both objects to him and pushed the candle to him. “Here, see for yourself.”

Inside the gemstone was now something very familiar to the Windrunner. A telltale dark blue, like a splash of ink, which had looked like a black shadow to Syl without the proper lighting. A spren that appeared around objects bound with a Full Lashing. Except that one side of its form was missing. A straight edge instead of amorphous globoid appendages. The characteristic appearance of a spren cut perfectly in half.

Impossible. To split a bindspren? Unity drew them into the Physical Realm. Without that anchor…it would be the same as taking the air away from a windspren. How could anyone convince one to be divided?

Because Jasnah Kholin wasn’t anyone. She was the most brilliant Rosharan in their known history. She would have succeeded at anything including scientific endeavors, but she had always preferred the study of history, of philosophy, of records and documents.

Words, not numbers.

And words achieved want numbers could not. Those words communicated to this spren a purpose so great, so worthy. It agreed to be divided.

Jasnah was always so good at getting others to do what she wanted, humans and apparently now spren alike.

Just like her mother, she imagined in his voice.

Her heart ached, and her eyes teared, at the unexpected emotion. It had been a long time since she last let herself feel this grief.

Silly old woman. Now? On the day of departure?

Was it because the candle flame reminded her of him too? He’d told her he had grown accustomed to fabrials, including the heatrial she had given him. But she knew the truth. He always preferred a real fire.

“We don’t need to continue,” Kaladin said, noting her expression. “You’re right. These results won’t affect your decision to leave today.”

“No, I’m fine. We’re not even at the second half of the testing, which is more important,” she said. After clearing her throat, she removed two pencils from her pocket, holding them between her fingertips.

“A common misperception about reversers is that they are thought of as a tool that creates distance.” From the same starting point, she lifted one pencil, while lowering the other. “Opposing movements which keep things away from each other.” Syl watched, sitting in her own invisible chair and nodded in agreement.

“But in fact conjoiners, which are the opposite of reversers and utilize rubies, might be used to keep objects of a similar mass perpetually away from each other.” Navani realigned the pencils on the same plane and moved them in unison. “Moving the pair in the same direction at the same pace would never allow them to catch up to the other.” Syl copied her, like a spanreed would, the most well-known conjoiner, using her hands.

“But a reverser moving in the direction of its counterpart draws the other one to it.” Navani reset the pencils’ positions, placing them in front of her at arm’s length. “If one goes left, the other goes right.“ She moved the pencils at the same pace towards each other until they touched. “Putting this all together, even without discussing the metal components, the general purpose of this fabrial should be evident.” She set her pencils down on the table, ending her lesson. “Who would like to reveal the answer?”

Syl raised her joined hands up in the air excitedly. Honorspren weren’t typically known for their intelligence like inkspren were. But that was because their inattentiveness and impulsivity could make them difficult students. They were smart too. They simply learned differently.

“Sylpherena?”

“The fabrial’s purpose is to move in the direction of its pair to reunite with it!” After Navani nodded her approval, Syl, smiling widely, pumped her joined hands in the air a few times, as if she were a victor in a tournament.

“A reunion fabrial?” Kaladin said curiously. But it would be impossible to use it on Braize to reunite with Dalinar. The other pair would have to be given to him first.

“That’s a very good name, but its naming belongs to Jasnah,” Navani said.

“Would they work across planets?” Kaladin asked.

“No, for that we’ll have to stick to the original plan. The distance is too vast, and we’d be meeting in the middle of space,” Navani explained. “But there’s more to this fabrial than its purpose. I am ready to tell you what this really is.”

“So, what is it?” Kaladin asked again, even more curious.

The queen held out her hand, gesturing for him to hand the device back.

“It is a gift,” she said as she secured the fabrial over her wrist once more. “It is my daughter’s way of telling me that she would like to meet with me again after my journey.” A single gloryspren circled Navani accompanied by a fluttering of blue leaves. As the saying goes, children are a parent’s pride and joy. “It is an ‘I love you’ without the words.”

“That’s so beautiful,” Syl affirmed with tears flowing along her cheeks.

“I didn’t expect Jasnah to be so.. sentimental,” Kaladin added.

Navani chuckled. “Yes, Jasnah sometimes has the empathy of a corpse, doesn’t she? And I can’t really fault her Alethi upbringing for that.” Such was Navani’s ‘little machine.’ “But it makes displays like this even more meaningful.”

“It does,” Kaladin said. Syl nodded along, while blowing her nose with an imaginary handkerchief. “I’ll report it back to Jasnah. Shall we now proceed with the next tests?”

“Yes, let’s keep to the schedule.”

“Let’s start with the ability to heal. Out of all your Radiant powers, it’s the most useful one. Let’s hope you’ve retained it.”

“Agreed,” Navani said, then got up from chair. “But give me a moment, I need to grab my dining knife.”

---

A little over a decade ago, a hearth was used to keep the cold away. And when night came, the glow of a fire could also fight off the darkness.

In modern day Roshar, a heatrial kept dwellings at the perfect temperature. No need to keep piling on logs. And human-made spheres filled with Stormlight, a renewable energy source that never set unintentional fires, was the preferred method of illumination. All very safe, practical, and economical.

With the return of Surgebinding, regenerating lost limbs, casting materials out of thin air, flying through the skies in defiance of the laws of physics were everyday routine tasks.

One wondered, now that science – and magic- could solve so many problems and perform miracles, what use was there for religion?

Why pray to change the weather, when you could actually do something about it?

Yet,,,Navani Kholin, a woman of science, kept her faith.

First and foremost, there was never a shortage of unsolved problems. And though she wasn’t relying on her prayers to answer them, it couldn’t hurt, right?

So, occasionally, she prayed for luck. She prayed for her family and friends. For those who were still alive. And even more so for those who were dead.

Because there was no other way to communicate with those who had traveled to the Beyond. It was among one of the mysteries that the pragmatic engineer resigned to never unlock in her lifetime.

Navani entered the Vorin temple located near the center of the Ten Rings, co-located with other houses of worship. The main temple wasn’t as grand as its predecessors had been. Gone were the marble statues and oil paintings created for the Heralds. With the knowledge of the abandonment of the Oathpact, orthodox Vorinism died out. Those emptied spaces were now replaced with sitting areas where devotees and ardents could pray together and commune with one another. It was no longer considered heresy to debate about the interpretation of scripture nor challenge gender conventions. Reading was encouraged. The religion evolved to avoid extinction.

But the building still retained its usual circular and domed structure. It was exactly ten feet tall at its highest point, and ten prayer stations were situated on the inside along its periphery. Strict adherence to the aesthetics of symmetry had not detracted followers.

It was still early in the day and only a handful of other worshippers were present. The queen of Urithiru walked towards an unoccupied alcove with a lighted brazier, passing by the writing pedestal. She had already prepared the glyphward beforehand.

Silently, she re-read the words before refolding the piece of paper.

Gratitude. Forgiveness.

Despite the troubles in their marriage, she thanked him for their children. And by extension their grandson.

The forgiveness was meant for them both.

As a widow, even after remarriage, tradition required that she honor her dead husband with annual prayer offerings. And she had, but by proxy, through hired ardents. The same ones she also paid to pray for other deceased relatives and ancestors. It wasn’t done out of spite, but more so out of convenience. The busy world leader, engineer and grandmother had plenty of other obligations.

She had also already- mostly- forgiven him. The glyphward reaffirmed it again. Time had softened her anger and resentment.

The paper burnt quickly in the fire. She lingered for a moment to catch the distinct scent of its smoke. It evoked memories of her childhood, of the times they had struggled and her family looked to the Almighty to save them.

“Your majesty?”

She recognized the voice, though they hadn’t conversed in some time. Its pitch had lowered with age, but it retained a characteristic roughness that was present even when he spoke softly.

“I didn’t expect to meet you here today, Kadash.”

“Temples tend to attract the faithful,” the bald man said wryly. “Especially those who have sworn their life to service.“ Most ardents had stopped the practice of shaving their heads, which might have also covered up the large scar that ran across his. He had also kept the beard, which was now white and matched the wrinkles on his face. “I hope this isn’t an unpleasant surprise.”

“Of course not. How are you, old friend?”

“My penmanship has been better.” He held up his hands for her. The last three fingers of each were fixed and bent over like claws due to contractures, an uncommon but well-known hereditary disease. Surgebinding wouldn’t be an option to heal them.

“Have you spoken to the surgeons?”

“I was advised that an operation could help temporarily. But eventually, the nodules would return.” Gripping a pen or utensil was still possible. However, a sword or weapon was out of the question. Kadash took it as a sign from the Almighty that his fighting days were finally over - as the former warrior had preferred. “Regardless, I never had the best writing even with all my digits. And the scribes have always been proficient at rephrasing my ramblings into something more coherent.”

“Then, you are well?” she asked. “Do you have all that you need?”

Kadash stared at her for what seemed a few moments too long. His look, inscrutable. Strangely, she had never noticed that his eyes were violet like hers until now, despite knowing him for over three decades. Perhaps, they were distantly related.

“There’s a rumor that you are planning to abdicate as queen. Is it true?”

Few were aware of her plans today. The same few who also knew the truth about her unusual bond with the Sibling and her entrapment within the Tower. Within this short list, it was easy for Navani to deduce who might have leaked this information.

“Abdication is a strong word,” she challenged. “Eventually, there would have been a time in which I would need to pass on my position. I’d prefer to do it now, freely and willingly.”

She had hoped to leave quietly today. In the previous weeks, she had already said her goodbyes to those closest to her as to avoid a conspicuous gathering. Explaining to anyone else today the real reason for her departure wasn’t on her schedule.

But it seemed unlikely that Rushu would have let that slip too. The damage it could create- the knowledge that Dalinar was still alive and serving an evil god would undo their decade’s long work of earning the trust of those who had every right to hate them. Singers, slaves, and the scores of other people that the Alethi had brutally conquered. Dalinar, the martyr was the narrative that worked best.

Another awkward silence followed between the queen and the ardent.

With Dalinar, despite being his slave, as all ardents were, Kadash never seemed short for words or an opinion, particularly on the topic of duty and religion. He had made it clear that his loyalties would always first belong to God and the Church. Unsurprisingly, the primary reason he had attended their wedding, which he had refused to officiate, was so he could report it to the ardentia.

Navani, usually adept at reading people’s expressions could not rely on that skill.at the moment. Kadash’s face was still a mask. She continued the conversation based on a logical assumption.

“If you are concerned about the future of the church, you needn’t worry. All religions will continue to have the same protections as promised by our laws,” she paused for a response that didn’t materialize. “And my daughter isn’t replacing me. Besides, Jasnah has never been a proselytizing atheist.” Thank the Almighty for that, otherwise they’d be having this conversation in a reeducation camp.

“My dear,” he finally said. “I have no doubt that you have carefully planned your exit and have ensured that rest of us won’t fall apart without your guidance and patronage.” He retrieved the glyphward from his robe sleeve and handed it to her. “But we should be the ones asking, are you well? Do you have all that you need?”

While Navani unfolded the prayer to read it, she missed the tiny crystalline flakes that floated around the man before her. Neither his face nor voice had hinted it.

Though technically, as an ardent he wasn’t as a man anymore. They were all genderless. And although they could marry, it was historically only allowed between ardents.

But as a man, he had fallen for her. It was difficult to resist the most beautiful woman in the world? Her face. Her body. The way she conducted herself with such elegance. Her intelligence. The way she spoke so eloquently. So gracefully... He had only ever admired her from afar. As a light-eyes elite. His superior’s sister-in-law. The wife of their king. And he thought she was perfect as the queen,. Dutiful, compassionate and pious.

The fact that he never had a chance with her didn’t bother him. For the devout, love did not require reciprocation.

When Dalinar had wanted to marry her, he had told him that he didn’t personally care about that outdated prohibition. But he also didn’t hesitate, when asked, to go to each ardent to ensure that no one would grant them their request.

It wasn’t because he thought he himself deserved her. No one did. Certainly not her first husband, if those rumors were true. And definitively not Dalinar. Martyr or not, the stain of Rathalas couldn’t ever be washed away….. the screams of women and children burning in the flames.

“Safety and Journey,” she read aloud. The glyphward looked like it was written in his own hand despite his ailment. For many late learners to calligraphy, though they could obtain technical precision, there was often a characteristic lack of style in the brushstrokes. A stiffness to the lines that was hard to overcome Still, the formation of the words was thoughtful. He had drawn it so that the glyph for “safety” surrounded the character for “journey”. Protected like armor.

“Whatever your plans are, I wish you a safe journey to your next destination.” He smiled broadly at her. If this might be their final meeting, he would allow himself some leniency.

She smiled back. “Thank you,” she said, as she gently cupped his hand between hers and shook it.

Even now she was still so perfect. Beautiful in all the ways he admired. They had few reasons to cross paths. But each time they had, it felt like a test for him from the Almighty.

Navani returned to the brazier to burn the prayer. Her journey today has been meticulously planned by herself and those she would also entrusted with her life in any other circumstance. Calculations were checked and rechecked. Small-scale simulations had been run. But the distance she would travel today was in a league of its own. As the paper burnt, sending a flume of smoke up into the air, she thought again, Couldn’t hurt, right?

After the queen exited the temple, Kadash lingered alone, sitting at one of the reading tables, He allowed himself to dream a little. He thought about how in another lifetime, she could have joined the ardentia, and they could have spent some time together. It would have been the perfect calling for the religious scientist. And many other widows routinely took that path.

But it would be silly to think that even if she had, there relationship would be any different. He understood her heart belonged to one person alone.

A different spren emerged – long white strands of cloth torn partway in the middle. They fluttered briefly then disappeared. Pityspren. But not for himself.

Because she could never be reunited with him. In death, someone like her, who nurtured and forged peace, belonged in the Tranquiline Halls, the reward for a lifetime of good deeds. But men…men like himself, who had destroyed and waged war, men like the Blackthorn, were destined for one place. And no amount of penitence. No number of prayers could save any of them.

---

“Mother, please stop fidgeting,” Jasnah said with exasperation. The younger woman redid the fastener once again, tightening it before locking it into place. Her mother responded with a grunt.

“Does it have to be this tight?” she complained. Maybe it was her nerves, but the suit felt more uncomfortable than usual.

“You’ve probably gained some weight since the last time you wore it.”

Navani frowned, wishing her daughter wasn’t always so blunt. At least she treated everyone similarly. Criticisms weren’t dulled for strangers out of politeness. The older woman let out a sigh, then silently tolerated the rest of the fitting.

“It’s better that you’re heavier anyway. The extra fat will cushion you when you hit the ground.”

Mmm…better?

The last buckle was set, and all that was left, was for her daughter to help her with her gloves and helm.

“Now let’s go over the procedure checklist,” Jasnah said instead.

“But I’ve done that with Tomor already,” Navani said, and then immediately regretted her tone of voice. She sounded like a schoolgirl annoyed by her mother for making a fuss over her. Ironically, Navani never recalled treating Jasnah like that. Because her daughter had skipped her childhood years and went straight into adulthood.

“You likely rushed him in your haste,” Jasnah asserted. “When an error might prove fatal, a second check isn’t only prudent, it is necessary.” She retrieved a notebook from her pocket and opened it to a bookmarked page. “As I recall, all your prototypes have mandated a double verification process before they are deployed in the field.”

Navani sat down on a nearby bench, the best she could in the ungainly suit. The entrance to the rooftop had been reopened earlier for the launch today. And her most trusted scientists quietly waited for the signal to proceed at their stations.

“You are mostly correct, Brightness,” she answered. “But this suit does not qualify as a prototype as you’ve already tested it dozens of times before. And we have cut out the double verification when the urgency of the mission has called for it.”

Rushu, Tomor and Velat were no strangers to witnessing disagreements between the pair. It didn’t make them uncomfortable as it rarely escalated beyond raised voices. The wise thing to do was to simply stay out of It.

“Before I made my interplanetary jump, you had me run through the checklist twice.” She sat down next to Navani, who had crossed her arms in frustration, a difficult thing to do in the suit. “Mother, twenty more minutes is negligible. We are still well within the four-hour window.”

“He’s waited a decade, Jasnah.”

“And Uncle Dalinar would wait another decade, if it would help keep you safe.” Jasnah held out her hand and waited for her mother to accept it. “Please allow me to keep your safe in his place.”

This was Navani’s mission. Her team. Her engineered creations. Her risk. Her decision. She had every right to override her daughter’s recommendation and proceed with the launch. But she knew Jasnah was right. She was half thankful that Jasnah hadn’t scolded her for letting her emotions cloud her judgement.

“Alright, let’s do it.” She took Jasnah’s hand, which was adorned with the other half of the reverser fabrial that was gifted to Navani earlier this morning. “I’m sorry for being stubborn and wasting time. It’s been a long day. Longer even because I added a stop at the temple this morning. Patience has never been my strength.”

“I think Dalinar would disagree with that.” She squeezed her mother’s hand tightly. “Don’t worry. You’ll be reunited soon.”

--

About twenty minutes later, an excited Navani stood up, as her daughter walked over to retrieve the helm of her suit. This was finally it. No more delays. She’ll be leaving Urithiru for the first time in a decade. And her first stop is another planet.

Well, technically, they had already tested her ability to leave earlier this morning, through an Oathgate. But barring that technicality. Good-bye Roshar! And hello…

Hello…

Hello… Renarin?

“Jasnah…” Navani said with an exasperated growl.

Her mostly-dark haired stepson stepped up from the rooftop entrance. She had already met with him a few days ago and had already said their goodbyes.

Demurely, he walked up to the group and nodded a greeting to them collectively. Though Renarin no longer fidgeted -as much- when he was nervous, sometimes a few silent beats replaced those motions instead.

“Mother Navani.” ------- “It’s not—"

“Cousin, you’ve arrived on time.” Jasnah set the transport helmet and gloves back down on the desk. “Please proceed.”

“I take it you’re here to re-verify the vision, and not check if I had chicken for breakfast.”

“I’m sorry, Mother Navani, but we thought that if anything has changed it would be important for you to know, so you can make an informed decision.”

“At least I get to see you again,” Navani said with a smile. Soon enough, she’ll be able to tell Dalinar about the remarkable man his son had become. About the family that misses him. She would carry all their love to him. The single assurance she needed was that they would be reunited. The rest wasn’t important. Her decision was already final.

She held out her hands towards her stepson. Touching a person helped Renarin focus on that person’s future specifically. And even though touch was still one of his phobias, among family it was occasionally welcomed.

Before holding his stepmother’s hands, Renarin took out a set of spectacles from his pocket and put them on. Though he didn’t need them anymore in the Physical Realm, it somehow helped sharpen the details of what he saw.

Dark glass spread beneath him from the heel of his boot. No one else could see that nor his actions within the vision. His physical body remained stationary, while he walked along the pathway and towards the web of stained glass images. He searched for the most relevant panel. And then, he described the scene as best as he could to the bystanders- a possible future outcome.

“I see Mother Navani again in this vision with father,” Renarin said. “He’s wearing the white Shardplate, but the black arrow no longer pierces him. You hold on to each other and are walking away from the sun setting in the background. This is the only depiction of both of you in the vision.”

“Glys, do you have anything else to add?” Jasnah asked.

As usual, Renarin’s spren chose to remain hidden to others, and so Renarin spoke for him.

“Glys isn’t sure if the sun is setting or rising. It is at the horizon. So this might be dawn, and not dusk.”

“But we are moving away from it and leaving, yes?” Navani emphasized. “And the rest is the same?”

Renarin nodded.

“Then I’m going.” Navani hugged her stepson, feeling his body tense slightly, before he reciprocated and wrapped his arms around her. She had done the same thing a few days ago, thinking it might be their last encounter. Not wanting to hold back. But now. Now, this was it.

“I’ll continue to look for both of you in my visions,” he said in her ear.

“Thank you,” she answered as they let go of another. “I can’t wait to tell him all about what you’ve accomplished. He’ll be even more proud of you.”

Renarin removed his spectacles which were distorting his vision in this world. “I wish I could do more.”

“You’ve all tried already.” She shook her head. “And it wasn’t possible. It’s my turn now. I’m the only one who can do this.” She had recovered parts of her near-death experience and encounter with Odium. Enough to know that she had the ability to challenge him. Dalinar was sworn to her too.

Nearby, Rushu, the new Bondsmith, had been shedding tears intermittently throughout these preparations. They were sending her mentor and friend on a one-way trip. Her return relied on too many uncertain outcomes. Possible, but improbable by her calculations.

“The Sibling says you look good in the suit,” the former ardent said. Rushu had already formally separated from the ardentia so she could commit herself completely to science. She was still a member of the church, and even kept the same hairstyle. But priesthood duties had become increasingly more of a distraction from the work she truly believed in.

As one of the world’s leading artifabrians, Rushu was best suited to bond with the Sibling and work the mechanisms within the Tower, which she had laboriously studied for over a decade. No longer having that religious association would help dampen opposition to her selection. The Hierorcracy still cast its shadow despite the Vorinism’s waning influence.

Besides, she wasn’t going to replace Navani completely. Elections would decide Urithiru’s next leader. The business of juggling world politics would thankfully belong to someone else. Rushu would maintain the Tower’s operations- not the most desirable job nor sought after by those hungry for power.

“It’s not as stylish as Shardplate, but it’s nice to be wearing something other than black for a change.” Though Navani was no longer Connected to the Sibling, she could sense their approval. “And Rushu, if you keep crying, you’re not going to have enough tears left for my actual funeral.”

“I’m sorry, Navani. It’s just that…”

“I know. I know. But it’s my choice and sometimes the right thing to do, isn’t always the most logical.”

“Your helmet and gloves,” Jasnah said as she brought them over again. “When I return to Ashyn, I will leave the reunion fabrial on Roshar with Renarin. Activate yours when you return, and we will come find you.”

“Thank you for the gift. And doing those test runs in my place. This wouldn’t be possible without you.” They hugged. It was no longer as awkward as it once was. “And thank you for letting me try.”

One more try.

After Navani fastened her gloves, Jasnah helped secure the final piece of armor, the helmet. Then, the former queen of Urithiru stepped on to a platform surrounded by ten fuel cells, each the size of a large greatshell. They glowed brightly with Stormlight in the daylight. She gestured a salute, the signal to start the initiation sequence.

Tomor pulled a lever, which opened a channel, allowing the light to flood into the central hub. What appeared like glowing insects with hundreds of legs moved within a network of tubes. In one of the chambers were dozens of maps of the destination, crafted by Velat from accounts of the expedition from eight years ago. The location she would reappear couldn’t be precise. Mid-air above an empty plain worked best to avoid materializing inside a solid structure like a mountain. The transport suit was equipped to maneuver the fall from the air.

They had only been able to test one other interplanetary jump - that’s all the power they could accumulate within the time constraints. Braize was now at its closest orbit to Roshar. And the clearest path to the landing zone fell in this four-hour window. This was Navani’s best chance.

It was over in a flash. The lights went out of the fuel cells, and the spren disappeared along with the person they transported over a hundred million miles away.

Jasnah turned away from the empty platform and looked to her cousin.

“Do you still see them?” she asked. “In the vision?”

Renarin nodded.

“Contact me immediately if you notice any changes. Or if any other Radiant sees them in theirs. I’ll have my spanradio on me at all times.”

“I will. But if I may ask, cousin,” Renarin started. “Why did you take the blame earlier? You weren’t the one who asked me to come today.”

Jasnah knew who it was. She had spoken to him earlier.

“Because I owe him.”

They were both apprehensive about the mission. Despite the extensive planning, so many things could go wrong. And Navani would be out there alone. Jasnah was worried, but she also knew nothing would stop her mother. If Renarin’s vision had been different, Navani would have argued it only showed a single possibility. And Jasnah would have to agree, as she knew firsthand her cousin’s vision could be wrong.

Kaladain was also worried. The environmental conditions on Braize were harsh. Freezing cold without the sun. Blazing hot in the daylight. There were no trees to use for shelter. No vegetation. No water. Only rock and more rock. He had experienced it during the expedition eight years ago when they had tried to rescue him.

But his concerns went beyond worry. There was fear. Because Kaladin knew firsthand what being enslaved could do to someone. Two years serving Odium, Dalinar had changed in ways beyond his physical appearance. They had discussed it exhaustingly, preparing her for the worst scenarios.

Could she mend those broken pieces?

One more try.

Despair. Guilt. A sadness so deep it was better to drown than to continue drowning. Kaladin would never forget those feelings that day at the Honor Chasm. Syl had gotten through to him just in time.

One more try.

After a decade of torment, what could Navani do, if her husband had already fallen from the edge? If he not only couldn’t be saved, but he no longer wanted to be?

Then let it be - one last try.

Among the three of them, ironically Renarin, who was constantly worried, fearful and anxious about so many other things, was the most optimistic. Not because he was confident that the outcome in his vision was a guarantee. But because he believed in his father and his stepmother. Just like they had believed in him. So, despite the vision showing his father bleeding from where the arrow had been removed. Despite the vision showing his stepmother wearing black. He knew another outcome was possible.

And so, why not an even better one?

Chapter Text

New Terms (Part 1)

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"  Chinese proverb.

It was worse than she had anticipated and as bad as Jasnah had described it. Snapped back into physical existence millions of miles away. All of her senses reactivating at the same time.

Keep your eyes closed. Don’t move. Don’t struggle.

She had practiced within the boundaries within the Tower, within her limitations.  And like she had been told, her experience now verified that the magnitude of its effects would be proportionate to the distance traveled.

Every nerve. Every cell. Screaming at her body to wake up.

It could also be argued that it was more so a function of time. How long it took for the transportspren to carry her soul across the Cognitive Realm and how long her body was off…

Stop. Stop. Stop…Ow…

Thinking hurt too.

Without the suit, as she materialized in mid-air, it would have felt like being slammed into a wall. And if she landed on the ground too soon, even in the suit, she would have suffered debilitating pain on contact with her hypersensitive nerves. A fall with an impact to her head would have caused a major concussion.

And so, the suit would automatically deploy its parachute shortly to float her down to the surface giving her time in the air to recover and protect her from possible disaster.

Technically, it wasn’t like a wall though. It was not a unidirectional blow. Force was uniformly distributed outwards from the center, much like an explosion. Except she was at the center and…

Shut up, Navani…Shut the fuck up.

It seemed an eternity before she heard the paracahute open. But she was not counting time in this state.

That was… until the nausea hit her after the sudden jolt and change in velocity.

She could see it…the riverroot anti-emetic Kaladin had given her, idly left inside one of her drawers. But well…she forgot.

It was of course on the checklist. But she hadn’t wanted to waste time to retrieve it the first time they ran through it. And on the second check, she couldn’t stomach admitting her mistake (lie) to her daughter. She rarely was afflicted with nausea anyways, and was certain she’d be fine. This was the kind of arrogance that killed reckless soldiers who rushed into the battlefield.

How pathetic would it be now to choke on her own vomit after all that she and others had done to get her here?

So she counted in threes, inhaling deeply through her nose, holding, then exhaling. And it might have actually been the pain of those motions that took away the nausea.

Well-deserved, foolish old woman. Thank Almighty Jasnah hadn’t inherited any of her obnoxious pride.

When she felt well enough to open her eyes, she checked her surroundings. And was thankful that the helmet shielded her from the bright daylight, which would have otherwise been glaringly painful.

Red barren rock below.

Red barren rock ahead.

Red barren rock to the left and right.

Nice, even, solid, red barren rock.

Not as welcoming as a grassy field or the practice landing mattress in the Tower, but preferrable to the outcropping of craggy cliffs that weren’t too far away, her eventual destination. Still red barren rock, but the pointed jagged stabby type.

The nearly lifeless planet was monochromatic as expected. No vegetation or bodies of water. It was also lacking in air. The atmosphere on Braize was so thin, such that the wind barely made a sound.

Quiet..

Exceedingly quiet.

Urithiru, the busiest city on Roshar, never went mute. Someone or something was always awake, up and running. And so, it was so strange for her to hear absolute silence. She finally felt disconnected from everything. No one calling on her to settle a dispute. No one asking her to sign off on a proposal. No one to mentor, mother or grandmother.

A retirement of her choosing in exile. But if her plan worked, at least not alone and not permanent.

Time to move.

She cautiously lifted her arms up to reach up for the handles. It felt achy, but not painful. There wouldn’t be a lot of maneuverability, given the lack of wind, but it helped center her for the landing.

She looked down to her feet and practiced moving the lower half of her body. The impact now shouldn’t be too bad given the lesser gravity, and she was prepared to tumble and redistribute the force by rolling if necessary. Her “extra cushioning” was a bonus too.

As she readjusted her position in the harness, she saw something else down below.

The red barren rock she had been admiring earlier was no longer even nor solid. What once looked like solid looking ground was actually terribly cracked, reminiscent of the Shattered Plains. And on Roshar those cracks were wide and deep. And very lethal.

Not very nice.

These shouldn’t be here.

The chances she’d be unlucky fall into one were low, but…

The ground shifted. A low-pitched rumbling noise emanated from that direction. More cracks appeared below.

What in Damnation?

She looked over to the west where the ground appeared more uniform. Navani pulled down hard on one handle, but without a strong wind it did nothing to change the trajectory.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.

Closer up, the newer cracks didn’t seem as large. Worse case, her foot might get trapped in one of them. And she’d have to use some of her Stormlight reserve to heal.

But before she could think of another reaction, the cracks multiplied again and again. A large crater formed. It looked like someone was taking a hammer to it.

It was audible. She could even see the shockwaves spread from the center. But on Braize, the same physics worked under different conditions. An explosive force on Roshar transformed into a loud knock on a door. A thud instead of a bang.

Thud!

The ground began to crumble.

She tried to kick and shift her momentum. But that failed too.

Thud!

If she fell through, it would take a huge amount of her Stormlight to recover. Plus whatever else she needed to do to make her way back up. This was a very poor way to start off her journey.

Land first, figure it out later.

Thud!

The ground was closing in. She bent her knees and put her feet together and focused her eyes on the goal.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

A thick cloud of dust kicked up of from the surface, obscuring her vision entirely.

Fucking hell.

In a panic, she kicked and pedaled blindly.

Abruptly, one foot fell in front of the other with an assured thud of her own. She had expected to fall and break something, but instead each foot sank a few inches into the newly formed sand around her. Nothing injured.

What the…

And then she was pulled below.

Chapter Text

Navani removed her helmet, wiping the sweat from her brow, then stowed the rag back into her sack. Her belongings were still with her, but that was unlikely to last.

It had been too dark to see her captors, and everything had happened so quickly. One moment she was sinking, thinking she would be buried alive. But instead, she found herself in a sealed chamber, presumably her new prison cell and hopefully not her future tomb. She should at least have the chance to speak to someone, if only to be interrogated. For what other reason was there to keep her alive?

The room was actually a moving vessel. A gentle but distinct rocking motion was notable. But it was difficult to ascertain its speed and direction. It would have taken her a few days to get to her intended destination on foot on the surface. So with any more luck, this method would be faster.

Relax. She had recalled hearing while being dragged through the sand.

Was it him? She pondered.

Between her panicked cries and the sound of her own heart pounding, she wasn’t sure.

It was certainly not how she’d imagine their reunion.

With a spherelight in one hand, she walked the perimeter, but wasn’t able to locate an entrance. The walls were made from black stone, not the red rock onfthe surface. Its color, completely uniform. No strata. No gradient. They were also perfectly smooth. Nary a dip, crack or dimple. As if they were cut with the exacting precision of a Shardblade.

She called out for anyone to hear her out, but her echo was the only response.

So, left with few options to occupy her time, Navani settled on the ground to rest, but not before making one last attempt.

“If you’ve decided to let me live, may I request a ventilation upgrade?” she asked aloud. “A few air holes would be nice. I’d also rather not resort to using my helmet for a chamber pot.”

Using her sack for a pillow, Navani folder her arms across her chest, then closed her eyes, but instead of becoming darker, there was light.

She found herself in a large yellow-gold field under a red-orange sky. She knew this not from her own blurred memory, but more so as Dalinar had once described it to her. A meeting with Odium, exactly what she wanted. Perfect.

She got up from the cold ground to look for the golden god, but as she turned around, suddenly he appeared right over her, looming above her. Taravangian had been shorter than Navani and so this was an intentional alteration. A cheap move to make her feel smaller. Immersed in politics and war for forty years, it would take more than a taller old man dressed as a god to make her feel threatened.

“My dear, I had hoped that this prediction would have been false,” he said dryly. “For your sake.“

Odium looked nearly identical to the former King of Kharbranth except for his attire and the light that glowed around and from within him. Bathed in a shining gold.

Gaudy, grandiose and nauseating. Before she could respond and ask when he began wearing lifts, his light intensified and flared hot white.

She shut her eyes to keep out the painful brightness, but it still pulsed fiercely through her closed lids. She knelt to the ground with head bowed. The submissive pose he wanted. Navani wasn’t a fool. She knew better than to mock him here in His world.

But Taravangian never had seemed one who was predisposed to feeding his ego. But perhaps this was an expected change after his godly transformation. An insatiable desire to be both worshipped and feared.

“It’s good to see you again, Taravangian,” she eventually said. Though she was no longer actually looking at him, she could still talk to him. But despite its brightness, the light, provided no warmth. The temperature around her was freezing, and she found herself shivering. Whether she wanted to or not, she would appear as if she were cowering before him.

“That mortal name is no longer mine,” he hissed. ”I am Odium. God of emotions. God of Passion. God of all Rosharans,” he blared. Then he did something that Taravangian would have never done. He put his hand on her head. “Your God.“

The Alethi and Kharbranthians, like other Vorin states, shared similar norms and the same strict rules on permissible physical interactions. Hand holding was considered intimate. Touching another’s head, a woman’s hair, the representation of her femininity was not only audacious and demeaning, it was a violation. And absolutely intentional.

Navani reflexively cringed more than she wanted to. But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted with his provocations. She would tolerate this. For those she loved, she could endure far worse.

Head still bowed, she spoked softly. “I only say that name out of my deepest respect for the human who ascended to godhood.” She could feel the heat of his fingertips. As if all the warmth in this realm only belonged to him.” I can only hope that our former friendship would be enough to allow me to present an appeal.”

“Do not think I would be so pathetic as to be plied by nostalgia! I am a god!” He released her as if to emphasize his disgust at their association. “I owe you nothing!”

“Yes. Of course,” she barely managed without stammering. Though his touch was gone, his voice was thundering and angry, the opposite of Tarvangian’s frail whispering. But that was probably a lie too. “And that is why I have an offering. A gi-”

“The penalty for trespassing here is death. Your husband delivered that message,” he said with derision. “What makes you think you can bargain?”

“You have not killed me yet, and you can still do so after this,” she replied. ”But you need me alive, if you want to win.”

Through her closed eyes, she could see that his light had softened.

Good, she thought. She had his attention, but she didn’t dare move until he permitted it.

“You may rise,” he said after a long pause.

As she did, Navani noticed that the surroundings had changed. Golden grass replaced by marble laced with gold veins had a cobweb pattern. The same design above, below and all around. It appeared both enclosed and unending at the same time. A throne on a raised dais lay empty ahead. Its owner paced around her slowly, examining her, with arms folded behind him.

“You are too weak,” Odium decided. “Too far from your spren to serve my purpose.”

“Another Bondsmith is of no use to you. What you need is my technology. Though you are immortal, in a battle of attrition, the side with less resources will lose.”

He stopped in front of her and looked her up and down another time. Then lifted her chin with his fingers to inspect her face. Slaves likely suffered through similar examinations, Navani thought. However, aside from ardents, on a matter of a technicality, Taravangian had never owned slaves. Kharbranth forbade them. Human ones at least.

He let go. “Still pretty,” he said, then wiped his fingers on his robe as he walked away. “But you’re old.”

The throne came to him as he turned back around and sat down. “I will hear your proposal, but know I will discover whatever it is you are scheming. Tell me what your understanding is of my resources and what you think you can offer me.”

Navani cleared her throat and began the speech she had crafted with her daughter and rehearsed dozens and dozens of times. This was it. She’ll either be dead in a few moments or achieve what she’s sought after for the past decade.

“Surgebinding is the most powerful magic in the cosmere. That is why you allowed yourself to be bound to our system, so you could harness its capabilities. You operate outside of this system through your agents. Even those with their own Nahel bond rely on your Connection here to fully access those powers and conduct their missions.”

Her daughter-in-law was an expert in the mechanics of off-world Surgebinding, but only Odium could confirm these theories. The god smiled at her. Was he impressed? Or amused at her blunder?

“But life is the key ingredient in everything. Without life, there are no spren. Even deathsprean cannot exist without life. There would be no Cognitive nor Spiritual Realm. No Surgebinding.

Life is energy. Life is power. Life is the winning strategy. That is what you lack. And that is why you will lose.”

His smile left him, and his eyes narrowed. Was this anger? Judgment? Focus? Whatever it was, he was still listening.

She continued.

“There are three habitable planets in this system, yet only two currently support life. But Braize does not need to remain a wasteland. I know the formula to unlock its potential. On Roshar, I’ve been conducting experiments in the south pole on an island thought to be barren whose conditions are far worse than this planet. We were able to grow and harvest crops there. Verify it with your agents, if y---”

“You expect me to remove the barrier in Shadesmar?” Odium said coolly. “To allow spren to return here?”

Navani shook her head. “No. I only provide the means to attract them to this place. That other decision is yours alone.”

“And you will have me win the final war? Conquer it all?”

“Thaidakkar means to win at any cost, including destroying everyone and everything in this system. Our safety is guaranteed if you win. You need Roshar to survive.”
“And what is it that you want in exchange?”

“I would like my Connection with Dalinar restored. It will take one hundred days to build the machines. Let me enjoy his company without intrusion while I work.” Her voice which had been so steady finally broke. “I miss him.”

“A sentimental request,” he scoffed. “How human.”

She bowed her head again to appease him. “I can’t help being sentimental. Like you’ve said, I’m old. My time here is short.”

“There are ways to change that.”

“I’m fine the way I am.”

“Yet, he is not the person you last knew. Do not complain to me if you are disappointed.”

“I know he is not. And neither am I. One hundred days. Now, do we have a deal?””

Odium gave his answer. “You will bring me your knowledge, your inventions, and I will not interfere with your Connection.”

--

Suddenly, she was pulled into another vision. Sitting in their room in Urithiru, by a coal brazier, was her husband Dalinar Kholin, as she last remembered him ten years ago. Storming tall, greying hair, face held in a perpetual scowl. She pushed herself from her own seat. Running to him with tears flowing down her face. He embraced her, holding her tightly as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing, overcome with relief and exhaustion.

He kissed her forehead, stroking her black hair, streaked with her own grey as it was years ago, soothing her, allowing her to unburden her grief.

Navani looked up. She understood this was not real, in a sense. He was not physically there- but it was still him. He kissed her as if it were their last kiss, then pulled back cupping her face to wipe the rest of her tears away.

She finally spoke in between sobs, “Dalinar, I’ve missed you so much. It’s been so long.”

He looked back at her lovingly, but his expression was then pierced by concern.

Taking a deep breath, he repeated a familiar speech of his own. “Gemheart, we’ve been meeting in this very room, in this vision, every day for the past eight years.” A chill crawled up Navani’s spine. “But you can’t remember any of it.”

Chapter Text

Despite knowing the journey and where it leads, I embrace it and I welcome every moment of it.

-Ted Chiang, Arrival

 --

“Our Connection was never fully severed. It was weakened because of the distance between Roshar and Braize,” Dalinar explained. “Our first meetings lasted seconds and were clouded, resembling a dream. Then eight years ago, it became minutes with absolute clarity, but with your inability to recall.”

“Eight years ago?” Navani repeated.

Before Dalinar could respond, a possibility occurred to her. “The Old Magic?” But what exactly did she ask for? And why couldn’t she recall the meeting? I couldn’t have left the Tower, so did they come to her?

Dalinar continued. “That’s what you’ve suspected, but you’re unable to confirm it, since you can’t remember when you return.”

The pit in her stomach grew exponentially. “So every day for the past eight years, I’ve been telling you how much I’ve missed you?”

“Yes,” he answered gently, holding her ungloved hand. “I’ve missed you too.”

“And.. and I’ve said all of this…every single word, before, haven’t I?”

He nodded.

A boon and a curse. A decade of memories lost. A wife who couldn’t remember. Was the curse on him or her?

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He kissed her hand, then placed it on her lap, still holding on to it. “But please don’t be.”

Navani squeezed his hand back. She could feel the familiar calluses against her palm. The cool night air was a stark contrast from the warmth radiating from him. It felt so real.

She was about to throw herself back into his arms again, when a thought stopped her.

Fuck. She must have done this exact same thing before.

All of it.

Multiple, multiple times.

Monotony has the tendency to kill relationships. Predictability seemed far worse.

As her mind continued to process the new information, she noted the fabrial on his wrist. The same one she had gifted him. But it should not have been in this vision. At least not in this specific memory. She knew this event without any doubt.  The night he –more or less- proposed. The coal brazier from their first days in Urithiru burned nearby, and her dress, which she had purposely picked out, gave the rest away.

“You can bring objects into this vision?” she asked as she examined the fabrial gemstones.

“With some effort. If they have been a part of my memories.” A smile crept on his lips and she noted his eyes brighten with anticipation.

“Then, could you please bring me my journal? I must have written all this down.”

The smile widened to a grin. “You always figure that part out.” Dalinar was a soldier. Routines and predictability were probably good things. Comforting and reassuring. It was a good that their situations were not in the reverse. “But it’s actually our journal,” he corrected her. “Your time here is too short. After you leave, I write in this.” He picked up the book from the sofa table and handed it to her. “For the both of us.”

It never bothered Dalinar that she always assumed it was her diary. Last she knew him, he was barely literate, and she couldn’t have guessed how much his fondness for writing had grown.

She opened the bookmarked page, the latest entry, and began to cry. He handed her the handkerchief he had already prepared.

The writing was in shorthand for efficiency, but she could still appreciate the artistry and precision in his abbreviated script.  An entire decade. She had missed all of this. Teaching him, writing with him, watching him progress over time. And worse, she didn’t exactly miss it- she just couldn’t remember any of it.

“How long do we have?”

“Thirty-five minutes.” Dalinar glanced at his arm fabrial. “It’s been seventeen minutes.”

“How did we ever get anything done in only thirty-five?”

“You found ways for us.”

He put his arms around her as she flipped quickly through the book and scanned through bleary eyes. By each entry, there was a listed activity. A schedule to follow.

1. Home updates 2. Literature 3. Calligraphy 4. Meditation 5. Sex

The current entry called for “Meditation.”

She noted how a few of the previous entries had the intended one crossed off and replaced with #5.

Her cheeks flushed. She knew those edits were her doing. Sex-starved for a decade. Even now, as he held her so closely, she had to bite down her desire.

But she was only human.

Turning to him, she passed her slender fingers across his face, feeling his scars, bumps and wrinkles. Those imperfections that made him unique, as if her eyes alone were not enough to capture it. Other memories may be lost to her, but she would know this face forever.

“Thirty-five minutes was when I was on Roshar. And now that we are both on Braize, it should be a lot longer, right?”

“Probably, but even though Odium won’t intrude, this can’t last indefinitely. I have tasks to complete. And so do you, if I’ve understood what you agreed to correctly. Which leads me to my own questions. How do you intend to--”

“I’ve been told Odium shits gold bricks” she said aloud. “If so, do his farts come out like gold dust?” Dalinar looked at her with a furrowed brow. “What? I’m merely putting your theory to the test. If he’s not listening, I should be safe from his wrath.”

“You’re not going to explain it to me. Are you?”

She shook her head.

“I understand you need to be cautious because of what happened last time. But it’s different with you. I can’t….I won’t..” He clenched his jaw, the agony of those memories resurfacing.

“Please don’t. I refuse to add to your burdens.”

His large and powerful hands clutched hers tenderly.

“You’ll always be safe with me.”  

“I know that,” she said softly. “The same way I now know that was your voice earlier when I landed. I must have informed you about my arrival before today. And if I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have said anything, right?”

“You only told me at the very end of our last session, which prevented me from launching my protest.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded affirmatively as he spoke, with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Far too dangerous.”

“I would have never agreed to let you come here.”

“Never ever.”

“You even warned me there was a chance that you could die during transport.”

“A tiny possibility.”

“That I’d never see you again.”

“Wouldn’t that have been a shame?”

“So you told me so that I would at least know what happened.”

“Not knowing is so awful, isn’t it?”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Yet, here I am.”

Dalinar let out a playful groan, then scooped his mischievous wife up in his arms. “Not going to tell me until the last minute again, are you?” He started tickling her. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another.” She laughed and squirmed, causing them both to fall onto the sofa.

Their faces were inches away from the other, so of course, they kissed. Navani felt his weight on top of her, as her breasts pressed up against him through the thin gown. Crystal flakes of snow fell around them.

One kiss was not enough.

He reached down to pull up her skirt and began stroking her thigh and rear.

Perhaps, all those extra #5s weren’t all my doing, Navani thought.

His other hand went for the top of the dress, pulling it over her shoulder. She could feel the seams tug. But even if it did rip, it wouldn’t need to be repaired anyway. This wasn’t a real dress.

Without looking, she started to reach for his belt. Then, his hand abruptly stopped her.

Or maybe, not?

“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly. “There might not be enough time.” He pushed himself off her and looked at his armclock again. “It’s been twenty-three minutes.”

“That’s at least twelve more minutes,” she said with equal breathlessness. “It can be quick.” She sat up and felt the chill of the cold air again. Colder now because of how her clothes were gathered all around her, exposing her skin. Pull off? Pull up? she debated. But then he averted his eyes and stood up.

“We don’t really know the impact of these changes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “He needs to undo your memory loss so that you will follow through with your end of the deal. That might be all we get, and not more time. It’s best not to take chances.”

Navani pushed away her disappointment and adjusted her dress… Properly.

“I shall follow your lead, gemheart.” She held out her hand. “As this is your world.”

He helped her up from the sofa and pulled her tightly to him. “I’d prefer that you think of where we are right here, right now, as our world,” he said. “When this vision ends, we’ll return to our separate prisons in his world. I won’t be able to…” He raised his hand and touched the cheek he was so fond of. “I can’t meet with you in person. You really shouldn’t have come here.”

“Even if you had convinced me not to come, I wouldn’t have remembered it anyway. It’s pointless to dwell on it,” she argued. “Besides, today’s schedule called for meditation, not lamentation.”

He sighed greatly before letting her go. ”All right, I’ll need to make a few adjustments first.”

Within a few seconds, two plush cushions appeared on the rug, and the sofa behind her disappeared. A trail of smoke rose from a large metal incense holder in the center, its fragrance sharp and floral, less pungent than that of burning prayer paper.

If Navani knew how to whistle, she would have done it to show how impressed she was.

“That was quick.”

“I’ve had practice.”

These objects are all part of a different memory. Navani considered. If he could recall them, then he should be able to recall another memory altogether, instead of playing out this one out over and over again.

The engineer pondered the potential of this skill. Thinking, and overthinking, was second nature to her. But the constant hunger to fix things made her restless.

“Shouldn’t the cushions be spaced further apart?” she asked.

Navani was not a practitioner of meditation. But she was familiar with its principles. To clear the mind of negative thoughts. To connect to one’s inner self.

To relax.

Conventionally, one would focus on their breathing in a sitting pose and upright posture. It was important to stay still and feel the space around you. To empty out external distractions.

Dailnar sat down and patted the seat in front of him, motioning for her to sit.

“We had to modify it.”

Meditation was a mental health booster according to Kaladin. Relatively simple to teach, and harmless to try. But Navani…well.. she thought it seemed rather boring.

“Why?”

“Because you’re terrible at it,” he said half-laughing.

“I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to relearn it each time.” She plopped on the ground, crossing her legs, back straight, chest out, doing her best to mimic what she had read about.

“True. But I think this might be better. You’ll see.” He scooted himself towards her, his legs open and positioned along her side. He then wrapped his arms around her waist.

Navani hummed in agreement and settled her back against him.

“You can never stay still,” he said softly in her ear.

“So I asked you to hold me down?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Your wife is very clever.”

“She has a knack for problem-solving,” he said kissing the side of her head. “Even if the problem is herself.”

A retort had started to form in her mind, but then failed to manifest. He hugged her more tightly against him. No more talking. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest.

“Relax,” he began. “Keep your eyes closed.”

She nodded.

“Try not to move.”

It was only a slight nod…

“Release the tension in your body and focus on my voice.”

Ok, Navani. You got this. It’s simple. Relaxing. You can do that, right? she thought to herself.

But isn’t he the one who needed to meditate? Shouldn’t she be leading the session for him?

That’s because you suck at this. You’re the wrong wife. Too fussy. Too needy. Sometimes insufferable, often manipulative.

 “Stop thinking,” he said on cue. “Free your mind of worry. Focus on the present. On the now. And breathe.”

His voice was calming, resonate. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to enjoy the moment. Their closeness. His warmth.

“Breathe in…and out…
In… and… out…
Each time you exhale, push out those thoughts. They don’t belong here.”

A voice with a deep timbre. She always loved it. Soothing. Healing. It had to do with the specific frequency. The same way some vibrations can carry into another object, like how Light can be transferred into another gemstone.

He hugged her again, a bit harder than the last. It broke her out of her internal monologue. Another reset. She could sense his muscles tense and relax, and her own muscles copied. 

“In... and... out… In... and... out…
Your mind is at peace. Your mind is free.”

Calmspren appeared, see-through except for a gossamer-like glimmer. The sound of trickling water was their telltale sign.

“Imagine lying across warm sand. On top a sea of yellow-white grains.
The sky is blue but there is no wind. All is still.

Let you head feel heavy. Let it weigh down.
Let it drop slowly into the surface.
Deeper and deeper. Into the sand that welcomes you.

Let the rest of your body follow. Your shoulders, your back. Your arms and legs.
Deeper and deeper. Into the sand that welcomes you.

Let your burdens sink below you.
Underneath the sand.
I am here with you. You are safe. You can let go.”

Navani felt somehow lighter, despite that sinking imagery.

How strange, she thought. But effective. And it only took a few minutes to—

DING!

Her eyes snapped open, and she would have jumped, except Dalinar’s arms were still around her.

“What was that?” she asked, her heart racing.

“That was the one-minute warning.” He released her and got up from the ground swiftly.

“One minute? What for? And why was it so loud?”

Navani turned around, expecting Dalinar to help her up, but instead he stood across the room, tense.

So much for meditation.

She was familiar with that dark look on his face.

In the decades they have known each other, Navani has witnessed her husband at his lowest. His struggle with alcoholism. His guilt over Rathalas and the murder of his first wife.

She had once hoped she could take away that pain. But when a god offered to do it for him, he refused.

He had bore that same expression a little while ago. Eight years ago, Kaladin led a team to Braize to rescue him. A mission that failed miserably. Under Odium’s orders, Dalinar, nearly killed all of them.

What else haunted him now?

Like his wife, Dalinar had his secrets too.

In the past, in that last minute, it had been easy to avoid the truth. Distract or stall. And then she would forget. Looking at his arm clock again, it was thirty-six minutes and counting. For eight years, he had spared her from knowing, but he couldn’t hide any longer.

“To reset the vision.”

“Why would you need to do that?” She walked toward him to console him. But she felt a push, and suddenly found herself sitting at her writing desk again. At the beginning.

“When you leave, the vision continues for me,” he started. This would be the only time he’d have to explain it, but Dalinar found little comfort in that. He couldn’t forget, though he desperately wanted to. “And also, for the woman whose body you inhabit.”

Dailnar and Navani had entered other visions before, borrowing the identity of another person for a time. If they did something unusual, something off script, the the characters around them would react often with considerable confusion. Like two men holding hands. The characters were like machines who couldn’t process information outside of their programming. As real as they looked, they weren’t truly real. There was no mind. No soul.

Was there?

“But that woman, has no recollection of what has transpired over the last thirty-five minutes. She should have been at her writing desk, but instead it’s whatever you are doing.” The blood drained from his face. “Whatever I am doing to you.”

His obsession with keeping time. His reluctance to have sex. That obnoxious alarm. Navani understood now.

“Dalinar Kholin, stop it. It was a mistake.” She stood up again, but within a few steps, she felt the push and was back at the writing desk. He was intent on keeping her away. 

"Think about it. You know as well as I do that I didn’t come to your room than night to work on my writing.”

Navani tried again. Got up, took a step… and back at her desk. She cursed under her breath.

She stood up once more but now kept her feet still.

“Hold on,” she said gesturing with her hands. “Look at what I…what she—chose to wear.”  An ungloved safehand. Visible cleavage. A fabric thin enough to see the outline of her body. She wasn’t even wearing a bodice. “This is not the attire of someone who is stopping by for a chit chat and a handshake.” A dress definitively too improper to go out in public.  “She came looking for sex. And she reacted that way simply because she was disoriented that’s all.”

“It was wrong.”

“No, it was poorly timed. And an accident. Besides, that person wasn’t even real.”

“It felt real!” he yelled. “She…she sounded real.” He slumped into the armchair across for her. “Exactly like you.”

It was futile. These was no getting through to him. He’s had years to cement his self-condemnation.

Navani leaned back in her own seat, feeling equally exhausted. This was not how she imagined their reunion.

“Am I confined to my desk for the remainder of the time?” she asked.

“That would be for the best…I’ll stay over here.”

Ten feet apart…

Did he really think anything closer, and they wouldn’t be able to restrain themselves?

She relented, even though most of it seemed ridiculous to her, his overreaction. Kaladin probably had a diagnosis… an explanation for it. This was yet another subject outside her expertise.

Dalinar eyed her carefully as she stood up yet another time.

“I’m only walking over to retrieve the journal from the table.”

“I could send it over--”

“No, please don’t,” she said a bit sternly. “I have legs. I can use them.”

Or am I borrowing them?

Her husband’s eyes tracked her movements like a duelist would their opponent, preparing to block the next strike. She should give up trying. There was no way for her to win.

“I’ll catch up on this,” she said somewhat reluctantly, patting the thick journal. “What will you be doing?”

“I’ve been thinking about re-writing portions of Oathbringer.” In his hands, he held the book in its original draft form. A large book with papers in his own handwriting. Not the published version that he never got to see. “I’ll be reading it over first. But then, I could use your help again.”

“Of course. At our next meeting.”

“I’d like that.”

“Remember to bring your hammer.”

“Why is that?”

“Well after you nail down the time here, you’ll be nailing me, and we’ll also be nailing each line in the book.”

He cracked a smile at her terrible joke.

At her desk again, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Ten years younger. A face that was no longer hers. She recalled feeling old back then.

Trust me, she told the woman in the reflection. It gets worse.

“Dalinar, you can’t see my current form, can you? Just like I can’t see yours.”

“Yes, and it’s probably a good thing.” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean on your behalf,” he sputtered. “Seeing how different I am.”

“Speaking on my own behalf” she said firmly. “Unlike you, my tastes have been known to be unconventional.” She flashed her violet eyes at him. “And I haven’t had sex in a decade… at least not that I can remember… so I wouldn’t be very picky.”

“Has it really been that long for you? Has there been no one else?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“Well…no.”

“You know what’s ironic though. In this memory, later tonight, we would have sex for the first time, on our wedding night. And here we are trying to avoid touching each other.”

“I promise it will be different tomorrow.”

“You don’t need to promise. I know it will be,” she said confidently, her lush lips curving upwards into a smile. “Because it’s on the schedule.”

They needed the distance. Any closer, he would have seized her, started kissing her again, and then they’d lose track of time.

Dalinar gripped his book, instead of his wife. Navani saw those white knuckles and wondered how in Damnation they were supposed to last however many more minutes were left.

She opened the journal again to the bookmarked section, reading the last few entries more thoroughly this time. Then, after letting out a great sigh, she started at the beginning.

A minute or so in, she stole a glance at her husband, thumbing his own book. Only ten feet away, dressed in uniform like the constant soldier he was. But without shoes or socks. The top buttons of his shirt undone as well. He always ran hot. It was a gift in bed.

All his clothing had been tailored as was customary for a highprince. The fit of his clothes was always perfect. Perfectly snug to outline his muscular build. No better way to intimidate another Alethi man. Make it clear who was stronger. No better way to seduce your horny wi..

Damnation…what did she just read? The words were clear. But nothing computed. She looked at him again and imagined a sign hanging above her husband, reading, Don’t touch!

While that may work for someone like Dalinar, who successfully fought off his lust for his sister-in-law for a few decades, a warning like that had a tendency to backfire on a person such as his current wife. Curious, impetuous, exceedingly determined. Especially when she already deemed the object of attention, fascinating.

Navani wasn’t a duelist, but she was very clever, and very good at getting what she wanted.

“Dalinar, I have a different proposal.”

“What do you mean, love?” he asked, closing the book he was also barely reading.

“For another activity, and I promise we can remain exactly where we are.“

“A literature discussion?” He looked at her, questioning. So innocent. Navani was beginning to agree that the set distance was in fact necessary.

“No, but perhaps afterwards.”

“We need to think about this strategically, or in my case, more logically,” she said.

Dalinar set the book aside and leaned forward to attention.

“Go on.”

“First, identify and outline the problems, factor in the variables, then consider their solutions.
No 1: The vessel I inhabit cannot recall this encounter. We can’t be doing anything when I leave that would cause her distress.
No 2: We both want sex. Not only our current selves, but the persons in this memory as well. And this compounded desire makes it more difficult to exercise restraint, yes?”

A slightly blushing Dalinar nodded in agreement.

“No 3: We cannot predict when I will leave at this time. Does that all sound about right?”

“Yes.”

“Your current solution for No. 1 is to keep us physically apart for the remaining time to avoid the temptation of No. 2.  But because of No. 3 we may be torturing ourselves for a few hours and even more liable to slip.”

“I could summon a wall.”

From one extreme to the next, she thought.

“Gemheart, I’m not done with my proposal yet...”

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying we might be liable to slip. Your strategy is avoidance, but what I am proposing is mitigation.” She blushed a bit then too. It felt lewd to verbalize it. Though they had enjoyed the activity together… in an unconstrained, spontaneous setting. “Take care of ourselves.” She felt the fire in her cheeks. “Reduce the tension.”

She was prepared to further argue her case, but it seemed he was on edge as much as she was.

“Let’s face our chairs the other way, just in case,” he promptly suggested.

Following his lead, after rearranging her chair and sitting back down, she noted the advantageous position of the wall mirror in front of her.

She’ll be fine, she thought, of the woman who could reappear in the next few minutes. At worst, confused, but more likely, quite amused. And Navani should know… because that woman was her.

“Let me know when you are ready,” she said over the sound of clothes rustling. “This time, I’ll talk to you. If I suddenly stop, then you will know she’s returned.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Ingenious, you’ll see, she thought.

Under her dress, Navani placed her safehand fingers over the center. She turned her head just enough to get a good view of the mirror.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yes, love.”

A smile again appeared over her curved lips.

“Close your eyes and imagine that I’m there with you,” she said. In the mirror reflection, the top of his head and part of his shoulder and arm- the dominant one- were visible.  

“Those are my hands touching you,” she said softly. “My fingers encircled around you. And it excites me so much to be doing this.” Her husband quietly moaned.

“I’m moving up and down. You’re getting hard, and I feel it in my body too.” His pace picked up as she continued narrating.

“I part my lips…ready to take you in my mouth.” He softly groaned, almost a growl, his hands rhythmic motions, audible. Navani focused on the movements in his reflection, those sounds, while pleasuring herself. She could feel herself getting wet.

“My tongue..,.flicks at it…first.” Her breath halting between words. “Testing…tasting…” She let out a satisfied hum. “Back and forth under the..under the exposed tip.”

“Fuck..,” he whispered as he tilted his head back.

“My mouth is on you… saliva drips …I slurp it… my head goes up and down… Up.. and down... Tongue pressed up against you,” she said in a strained voice. He moaned again, strained too, his pace more frantic.

“I switch to my hands… …sliding up and down your cock,” she said breathlessly.

“My mouth is open, tongue out. Ready…ready to receive you.” She could hear his breath hitching, his speed increasing even more. Passionspren, like miniature storm clouds, floated around them.

“Will you come for me…?” Navani said as she gripped the corner of her chair. “Please… husband?” And arched her back. “Come.. for me,” she said as she continued rubbing herself, timing her hip movements to the crescendo. “Come for me..,” she pleaded, her voice urgent. “Please…”

Dalinar growled loudly as he came, followed by a series of shuddering breaths. Then a final breathy release. Navani followed soon after, pushed over the edge by those gratifying noises. She smiled euphorically, physically satisfied, and also pleased that her plan worked even better than she thought it would.

There was a moment of silence while they both recovered.

“Gemheart?” he asked first.

“I’m still here,” she replied.

Dalinar stood up from his chair, fully dressed, holding a new clean towel in his hand. Navani accepted it as they walked towards each other to embrace.

“See? Isn’t this better?” she said, pressing her face to his chest. It felt so good to be in his arms again. To feel his warmth again.

“Infinitely,” Dalinar said, then kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

She lifted her head up, meeting his eyes, seeing those words reflected in them. “And I love loving you.”

They kissed softly. Gently. So tender, that if the woman should return, she’d melt into it without fear or hesitation.

“Now let’s sit together and do whatever else we want,” she said with a bright smile.

He stared at her, captivated by that smile.

Underneath his own, a thought crossed him.

If only this were real.

--

“In this passage, I write about the loss of our mother as a factor in our desire for control and conquest. But I don’t want it to seem like an excuse for our actions.”

“I see what you mean, but the readers haven’t perceived it as such,” she reassured him. “Jasnah’s undertext further explains that there is a correlation between maternal –”

Dalinar’s heart sank. Time was up. That familiar look on the woman’s face sealed it.

“We were just reading together, gemheart,“ he reassured the confused woman. She looked back at him, even more puzzled. "I meant, you were reading to me."

“What a strange book,” the woman stated, looking at the uneven and large-blocked lettering. “It looks like it was written by a child with large fingers.”

He chuckled lightly. “You are right, but the author got better with time. With help from someone he loves.”

“He?”

Dalinar reset the vision to its usual starting point.

The woman was now seated at the writing desk, unmoving. Everything else in the room stood still too, locked in a single moment, except for him.

From afar, ten feet away, he gazed at the frozen beauty, as he usually did at this time. The picture perfect Vorin woman: lush lips, light violet eyes, silvering black hair, those visible curves. And a part of him wanted to scream at her falsehood. This woman was not his wife.

Checking his fabrial, he noted its clock hands. Three hours.

One hundred days. Three hundred hours. Ten full days on Braize. How quaint.

He sometimes prayed at this time that she would remember him tomorrow, but God was dead. Another one might help her remember.

And then, as he usually did at this time, he sat on the sofa and summoned the alcohol and began drinking.

There’s no one else here anyway.

He no longer needed to beg and search for it. Steal it from others. The wine never ran out. Dalinar was simply allowing himself to become the man he was meant to be. A drunkard. A title competing for the top place of an impressive list.

Mass murderer. Wife killer. Arsonist. The Blackthorn.

He drank even thought the alcohol could no longer quiet those voices. And a newer voice sometimes cut through the chorus, the woman screaming who sounded exactly like his wife. Add to the list, rapist.

He drank until his vision blurred, then threw the bottle at the coal brazier, tipping it over as it usually did. The rug caught fire.

There’s no one else here anyway.

He  summoned the barrels of oil and pitch, and continued sitting there watching the imaginary room burn. Though the Thrill was no longer there to goad him, he felt it all perfectly well without it. Pain. Anguish. Humiliation.

Sweat poured off his face and body from the heat of the flames, and then he laid down on the floor as he usually did at this time. The smoke rose up high, clouding the room, an inversion of the dark and deadly sea outside. But he saw everything clearly. This was his vision. Every single detail was created from his memory. A pathetic imitation.

He laid down on the floor, not to escape the blaze, but to avoid the smoke, to make sure he remained conscious when it took him. Dalinar gritted his teeth as his clothing caught fire and his flesh began to burn. An image of first wife appeared in his mind. Burnt beyond recognition except for that half of her face.

Even though she could forgive him, he could not forgive himself.

His punishment? To be consumed by fire every day for the rest of his immortal life.

The last thing he saw before his body died was his writing desk set ablaze. What’s the fucking point? There’s no one else here anyway... None of his writings mattered, trapped in here like he was. No one could read them. No one would care.

Except one person.

Chapter Text

Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection.

--Arthur Schopenhauer, 19th Century German Philosopher 

In his bedchambers in Urithiru, Dalinar Kholin waited for his wife to return, as he has done for the past eight years. He had already completed the journal entry from their previous encounter and worked on his writings, as encouraged by her. He paced nervously, as he often did, and occasionally returned to the woman in the vision to check if she had returned.

He walked out to the balcony to smell the crisp mountain air and noted the Everstorm in the distance, black clouds lit by crackling red lighting. A dark and deadly sea. He has witnessed this scene every day for the past eight years. Though the storm was hauntingly silent, he felt as nervous as he had later on that evening, their wedding night. And so, this time he failed to hear her as she slipped up behind him.

“Miss me?” she said as she gently wrapped her arms around him.

Dalinar released her hands and spun around, quicker than any soldier’s reflex.

There she was, smiling back at him with eyes that did not contain the expected anguish and confusion. Eyes that were as entrancing and playful as they ever were. Long before she became Radiant, Dalinar believed the woman of his dreams was magical.

He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. And so instead, he embraced her tightly, sobbing as he did so. He wept loudly and freely. And though he couldn’t hear her words, he felt her touch. She let him hold on to her for as long as he desired.

He then kissed her, as if it would be their last kiss as he always did. Navani’s feet dangled from the ground as she melted into him, tasting the salt of his tears.

And as they had never done before in these past eight years, they proceeded with #5 without further explanation.

--

At the bedside, as soon she touched the ground, Navani reached for the top of her dress, her heart racing with anticipation. But her husband’s hand stopped her.

“Please, let me,” he said.

Their eyes locked, and she saw how his were that glassy light blue color, glowing with Stormlight.

What did he have planned?

Dalinar placed his fingertips on her head and combed through her hair, pushing loose strands away from her face. Mesmerized again by violet eyes, lush lips, the shape of her cheek, those lines of wisdom and age, he mouthed the words, So beautiful.

Those fingertips found the top of her ears, sending warmth and tingling sensations as the blood returned to them. Navani hadn’t even realized they were so cold. Tenderly and deliberately he pressed his thumbs and fingers together, massaging down to her earlobes, tugging at the ends slightly.

“Hmm… that feels good,” she whispered, eyes closed with a smile.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “It’s going to get better.”

Navani opened her eyes to watch him fulfill his promise.

His fingers trailed down to her neck then shoulders, and at every point of touch, Navani could feel her muscles relaxing. The tension dissipating.

Carefully, he slipped the dress off both shoulders, but its fall was halted by her bosom. Dalinar fixed his glowing eyes on the obstacle. He pulled the cloth forward, careful not to touch her there. The gown fell to her hips, revealing her large breasts with their dark nipples, hard from the cold and of course…

“Saving best for last?” she asked.

He nodded, a smirk across his face. His fingertips went to her upper back, tracing down to her waist, curving around to her hips, where he pulled the cloth away again, dropping it to the floor. Only her undergarment remained.

Despite standing upright, Navani had never felt so relaxed and aroused at the same time. Her upper body had just experienced the best massage in her life. For a moment, she worried she wouldn’t be able to stand if he continued to her legs, but that was when he guided her to the bed and slipped off that last layer.

“Better?” he asked as he removed his shirt, revealing his broad frame.

“I’m going to need more data,” she answered, offering up her leg to him, tapping it to his bare chest.

He caught that leg and kissed its sole. “The scientist has spoken.” And restarted at the toes working his way up, before switching to the other.

Her entire body felt as if it had been poured onto the bed. All her muscle fibers had forgotten their purpose. His large hands roamed around her thighs, as he moved them into position. With her legs sprawled out like that she knew what was coming next, and she opened her eyes again to watch.

His eyes had returned to their usual blue. He didn’t need Surge powers for this next part. He was already so good at it. He hungrily kissed across her lower abdomen and inner creases. Then his tongue was on her lower lips. The first licks, only a preview. He pressed up the center, gently but steadily, stroking her repeatedly. She moaned and gasped -her muscles snapped back into awareness- feeling quite sensitive already, but his strong hands preventing her hips from jerking off the bed. Nose buried in her mound, he then switched to circular motions at her nub, which sent her panting and clutching at the bedsheets.

When she was able to open her eyes again, she could see the up and down motions from his other arm. He was getting himself ready.

It was about to get even better.

She inhaled sharply when he started drinking from her, lightly sucking, the tongue’s tip teasing. The pleasure of his touch and the lewdness of those sounds drove her closer and closer to the edge. Her hands and heels dug into the bed as her breath caught and the muscles in her body seized for a singular moment.

She exhaled haltingly, then laid there, recovering. A heavy-lidded smile emerged because she knew that wasn’t the finale.

On his knees, his hard cock visibly throbbing, he loomed over her. How she loved his body. She nodded approvingly, teeth biting her lower lip. He wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand and surged up to kiss her.

They held to that kiss. Encased in his warmth, her very own human blanket, Navani pressed herself into him, arms and legs folded around him. They luxuriated in this closeness. In their time together again.

“I want you, Navani,” he whispered. “I can’t stop wanting you.” He trailed kisses from her face, to her neck and down her chest, then gave her breasts the attention they deserved. Squeezing, sucking, lightly biting. They barely fit into his large hands. He kissed down further, going back for seconds.

Navani had other plans for them this session. But she was in no state to think about anything else but what was happening now… She’d swear that she had never been this wet her entire life.

When he came up again, he slid inside her slowly. The stretch, his size, the depth, felt almost new to her, perhaps because it had been so long for both this body and the person inhabiting it. She knit her brow and gripped her husband tightly as she adjusted to him. Dalinar paused before moving further. He knew she needed a moment, as she always had these past eight years. He kissed her forehead tenderly and held her head in his hands. Gaging her response.

When she tilted her head up and met his eyes, he knew she wanted another kiss. He interlaced their fingers as they did, taking care to shift his weight onto his elbows instead.  As he rolled his hips into her, she mirrored his motions, moving and moaning together in sync.

And this felt altogether new for both of them. This was something that these bodies couldn’t have done alone. That their previous bodies couldn’t have either. Because it wasn’t even about what these bodies were doing. in this place that transcended time, space and reality, their souls were re-Connected. And they both now attuned to the Rhythm of Passion. Vibrant, building, fervent and inevitable.

Passionspren exploded around the room as they climaxed together, transforming the room into daylight for an instant. It didn’t bother them. Because all they could see was each other.

He held on to her tightly as they rested together, his face resting against her chest. Navani stroked his back and his arms and caressed the back of his head, one leg dangled over his hip. And all that and the sound of her heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

Navani contemplated her intended plan for the rest of the session, unsure how much they could accomplish with the remaining time. She noticed her husband’s smile and looked upon it with fondness, though she was unaware that the primary reason for that smile. Dalinar longed to waked up with her by his side, as it used to be. He knew that was possible now.

She nearly dozed off herself. But then it returned. Just as startling, and even louder than before. Because it was next to her head.

DING!

It had been a gift. The leather bracer, tailored to fit perfectly on his forearm and wrist. Two clock hands, one for the time with an adjustable alarm, the other to read the Storms. She had been so proud of its design. Prouder that he had learned to appreciate its utility all on his own.

He had been wearing it during the entirety of their lovemaking.