Odium stepped back. “Dalinar? What is this?”
“You cannot have my pain.”
“Dalinar—”
Dalinar forced himself to his feet. “You. Cannot. Have. My. Pain.”
“Be sensible.”
“I killed those children,” Dalinar said.
“No, it—”
“I burned the people of Rathalas.”
“I was there, influencing you—”
“YOU CANNOT HAVE MY PAIN!” Dalinar bellowed, stepping toward Odium. The god frowned. His Fused companions shied back, and Amaram raised a hand before his eyes and squinted.
Were those gloryspren spinning around Dalinar?
“I did kill the people of Rathalas,” Dalinar shouted. “You might have been there, but I made the choice. I decided!” He stilled. “I killed her. It hurts so much, but I did it. I accept that. You cannot have her. You cannot take her from me again.”
“Dalinar,” Odium said. “What do you hope to gain, keeping this burden?”
Dalinar sneered at the god. “If I pretend … If I pretend I didn’t do those things, it means that I can’t have grown to become someone else.”
“A failure.”
Something stirred inside of Dalinar. A warmth that he had known once before. A warm, calming light.
Unite them.
“Journey before destination,” Dalinar said. “It cannot be a journey if it doesn’t have a beginning.”
A thunderclap sounded in his mind. Suddenly, awareness poured back into him. The Stormfather, distant, feeling frightened—but also surprised.
Dalinar?
“I will take responsibility for what I have done,” Dalinar whispered. “If I must fall, I will rise each time a better man.”
* * *
Renarin ran after Jasnah through the Loft Wards of the city. People clogged the streets, but she didn’t use those. She leaped off buildings, dropping onto rooftops of the tiers below. She ran across each of these, then leaped down to the next street.
Renarin struggled to follow, afraid of his weakness, confused by the things he’d seen. He dropped to a rooftop, feeling sudden pain at the fall—though Stormlight healed that. He limped after her until the pain left.
“Jasnah!” he called. “Jasnah, I can’t keep up!”
She stopped at the edge of a rooftop. He reached her, and she took his arm. “You can keep up, Renarin. You’re a Knight Radiant.”
“I don’t think I’m a Radiant, Jasnah. I don’t know what I am.”
An entire stream of gloryspren flew past them, hundreds in a sweeping formation that curved toward the base of the city. Something was glowing down there, a beacon in the dim light of an overcast city.
“I know what you are,” Jasnah said. “You’re my cousin. Family, Renarin. Hold my hand. Run with me.”
He nodded, and she towed him after her, leaping from the rooftop, ignoring the monstrous creature that climbed up nearby. Jasnah seemed focused on only one thing.
That light.
* * *
Unite them!
Gloryspren streamed around Dalinar. Thousands of golden spheres, more spren than he’d ever seen in one place. They swirled around him in a column of golden light.
Beyond it, Odium stumbled back.
So small, Dalinar thought. Has he always looked that small?
* * *
Syl looked up.
Kaladin turned to see what had drawn her attention. She looked past the Fused who had landed to attack. She was staring toward the ocean of beads, and the trembling lights of souls above it.
“Syl?”
She pulled him tight. “Maybe you don’t have to save anyone, Kaladin. Maybe it’s time for someone to save you.”
* * *
UNITE THEM!
Dalinar thrust his left hand to the side, plunging it between realms, grabbing hold of the very fabric of existence. The world of minds, the realm of thought.
He thrust his right hand to the other side, touching something vast, something that wasn’t a place—it was all places in one. He’d seen this before, in the moment when Odium had let him glimpse the Spiritual Realm.
Today, he held it in his hand.
The Fused scrambled away. Amaram pushed down his faceplate, but that wasn’t enough. He stumbled back, arm raised. Only one person remained in place. A young parshwoman, the one that Dalinar had visited in the visions.
“What are you?” she whispered as he stood with arms outstretched, holding to the lands of mind and spirit.
He closed his eyes, breathing out, listening to a sudden stillness. And within it a simple, quiet voice. A woman’s voice, so familiar to him.
I forgive you.
Dalinar opened his eyes, and knew what the parshwoman saw in him. Swirling clouds, glowing light, thunder and lightning.
“I am Unity.”
He slammed both hands together.
And combined three realms into one.
* * *
Shadesmar exploded with light.
Fused screamed as a wind blasted them away, though Kaladin felt nothing. Beads clattered and roared.
Kaladin shaded his eyes with his hand. The light faded, leaving a brilliant, glowing pillar in the middle of the sea. Beneath it, the beads locked together, turning into a highway of glass.
Kaladin blinked, taking Shallan’s hand as she helped him to his feet. Adolin had forced himself to sit up, holding his bloodied stomach. “What … what is it?”
“Honor’s Perpendicularity,” Syl whispered. “A well of power that pierces all three realms.” She looked to Kaladin. “A pathway home.”
* * *
Taln gripped Ash’s hand.
Ash looked at his fingers, thick and callused. Thousands of years could come and pass, and she could lose lifetimes to the dream, but those hands … she’d never forget those hands.
“Ash,” he said.
She looked up at him, then gasped and raised her fingers to her lips.
“How long?” he asked.
“Taln.” She gripped his hand in both of hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“How long?”
“They say it’s been four millennia. I don’t always … note the passing of time.…”
“Four thousand years?”
She held his hand tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He pulled his hand from hers and stood up, walking through the tent. She followed, apologizing again—but what good were words? They’d betrayed him.
Taln brushed aside the front drapes and stepped out. He looked up at the city expanding above them, at the sky, at the wall. Soldiers in breastplates and chain rushed past to join a fight farther along.
“Four thousand years?” Taln asked again. “Ash…”
“We couldn’t continue— I … we thought…”
“Ash.” He took her hand again. “What a wonderful thing.”
Wonderful? “We left you, Taln.”
“What a gift you gave them! Time to recover, for once, between Desolations. Time to progress. They never had a chance before. But this time … yes, maybe they do.”
“No, Taln. You can’t be like this.”
“A wonderful thing indeed, Ash.”
“You can’t be like this, Taln. You have to hate me! Hate me, please.”