to merge spren who were split by fabrial creation,” she whispered. “I thought it might please you.”
No response came.
“Please,” Navani said, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against the wall. “Please forgive me. We need you.”
I … The voice came into her mind, making Navani look up. She couldn’t see the spark of the Sibling’s light in the vein, however. Either it wasn’t there, or … or it had grown too dim to see in the light of the room.
“Sibling?” she asked.
I am cold, the voice said, small, almost imperceptible. They are killing … killing me.
“Raboniel said she is … unmaking you.”
If that is true I … I will … I will die.
“Spren can’t die,” Navani said.
Gods can die … Fused can … can die … Spren can … die. If I am made into someone else, that is death. It is dark. The singer you promised me though … I can see him sometimes. I like watching him. He is with the Radiants. He would have made … a good … a good bond.…
“Then bond him!” Navani said.
Can’t. Can’t see. Can’t act through the barrier.
“What if I brought you Stormlight?” Navani said. “Infused you the same way they’ve been infusing you with Voidlight? Would that slow the process?”
Cold. They listen. I’m afraid, Navani.
“Sibling?”
I don’t … want … to die.…
And then silence. Navani was left with that haunting word, die, echoing in her mind. At the moment, the Sibling’s fear seemed far more powerful than the Rhythm of War.
Navani had to do something. Something more than sitting around daydreaming. She stalked back to her desk to write down ideas—any ideas, no matter how silly—about what she could do to help. But as she sat, she noticed something. Her previous experiment rested there, mostly forgotten. A gemstone amid sand. When the singers had set up their plates, they hadn’t disturbed Navani’s work.
The music of the plates had caused the entire desktop to vibrate. And that had made the sand vibrate—and it had therefore made patterns on her desktop. One pattern on the right, a different on the left, and a third where the two mixed.
Stormlight and Voidlight weren’t merely types of illumination. They weren’t merely strange kinds of fluid. They were sounds. Vibrations.
And in vibration, she’d find their opposites.
Regardless, I write now. Because I know they are coming for me. They got Jezrien. They’ll inevitably claim me, even here in the honorspren stronghold.
Adolin stepped onto his podium at the honorspren forum. The circular disc had been pulled out to the center of the arena. Today, he would have the stage all to himself.
He’d arrived early, so he wouldn’t have to push his way through the crowd. He wanted to appear in control, awaiting their scorn rather than taking the long walk down the steps with everyone watching. One felt like the action of a man who had orchestrated his situation. The other felt like a prisoner being led to execution.
Shallan and Pattern seated themselves as others began to arrive. The forum could hold a couple hundred spren, and as the honorspren—all glowing faintly white-blue—settled, he noted that far more of them wore uniforms today. The ones who had seemed sympathetic to Notum’s proclamation were conspicuously absent from the seats. Adolin found that frustrating, though he did notice some spren from yesterday crowding around the top, where they could stand and watch.
The honorspren seemed determined to seed the seated positions with those who were predisposed against him. No reason to sweat, Adolin thought, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. It’s just your one chance to speak for yourself. Your one chance to turn all this around.
Ideally, this would be the day that went best for him. He could explain his case and answer questions from the audience. Kelek’s words from the day before weighed heavily upon him; this wasn’t merely about the honorspren and whether some would join the Windrunners. It was a much larger argument.
Was humankind worth fighting for? Adolin somehow had to make that argument today. Blended had warned him he’d need to fend off questions and keep the argument on topic. He couldn’t afford to engage the crowd too directly, couldn’t afford to let them control the conversation.
That done, the trial would convene for one final meeting, where the honorspren could present a single last witness, whom Adolin could question, to rebut his arguments.
He bowed to Kelek as the Herald arrived. He’d changed into official-looking violet robes, a marked difference from yesterday. Did that mean he