Szeth - Precise Division

He summoned the strength of Division. His people had always said that an Honorbearer was far more powerful than an oathed Radiant. Szeth’s experience had taught him there was much nuance to the word “powerful.” Regardless, he reached back through time to his training, blessing the fact that he’d been forced to learn all the Surges, and closed his eyes.

Then he felt the soul of the rooftop.

Division wasn’t so different from other arts. With Soulcasting, you needed to persuade, cajole, or—if you were particularly skilled—command. A Stoneward instead had to know the stone, become kin to it.

With Division, the art of Dustbringing, you gave a spark—and controlled the reaction. The results could be explosive. If you were careful, they could also be precise. Today, the fires he started were tiny, practically invisible. He convinced the single-stone rooftop that it was instead made up of many, many stones. Tiny ones. Barely connected.

He opened his eyes.

“Did you … do something?” Kaladin asked.

In response, Szeth punched his hand through the rooftop, and a circular section five feet wide disintegrated into powder, raining down into the blackened chamber below. Szeth slipped through and dropped into the great hall of this monastery, gemstones glowing in the walls to give light.

Wind and Truth Chapter 45