Shallan- Ideal

“How much Stormlight do you have?” the Heavenly One asked, keeping her pinned despite her struggles. He slipped one hand away from her and pulled a knife from a sheath at his waist. “Shall we see how many times you can heal before it runs out? My brothers and sisters are mad from so long with life, but I am sane because I bathe in the blood of Radiants, which renews me.”

He stabbed her in the shoulder, and she grunted in pain.

“Are you afraid, Lightweaver?” the Heavenly One growled.

Yes, Shallan said from within. I am.

“Are you certain you are ready?” Radiant whispered.

“Yes,” Shallan said. “I became ready when I confronted Veil, and my memories.”

What are the Words? Radiant asked.

“I said them already,” Shallan replied as the Heavenly One twisted the knife.

Say them again.

“I’m afraid,” Shallan said.

The Heavenly One smiled, lit by a dark light from a gemstone hanging around his neck, and by the red of his eyes.

“Afraid of everything,” she continued. “Terrified. Of the world. Of what might happen to my family. Most of all, of myself. I always have been.”

Strangely, some of the beads around her trembled when she said that. Only some of them. Wiggling, like things alive.

“You should fear me most of all,” the Heavenly One said. “I am Abidi the Monarch. I will rule this world, and I shall keep the Lightweavers. To bleed for me when …” He frowned as the little cavern started to glow. Light reflecting in each bead.

Light coming from Shallan’s eyes.

Radiant formed behind the Heavenly One, made of Stormlight, her head nearly brushing the roof. As Shallan imagined her: Taller than Shallan, stronger, with powerful biceps and a thick neck from extensive training. Hair in a braid, rather than Shallan’s messy, fraying bun. Strong—of a different genre of strength than Shallan—with a Shardblade in hand.

Abidi the Monarch laughed. “An illusion?” he said. “You think I’ll be distracted by something unreal?”

He continued laughing until the Shardblade speared him from behind, spilling orange blood on his fine white outfit.

Real blood. From a real wound. He gasped, looking down.

“Reality,” Shallan hissed, “is what I decide it to be.”

...

Abidi the Fused loomed over Shallan, gaping at the sword through his chest. Radiant pulled it free, then swung for his head. Despite the wound, he had the presence of mind to duck forward and tumble over Shallan, then skidded to a stop and spun as his wound resealed. Unfortunately, Radiant hadn’t managed to hit him in the gemheart or sever his spine—the two cleanest ways to kill a Fused.

He took her in, then glanced at Radiant—made physical—his eyes narrowing as he hummed to a discordant rhythm. “You have learned substantiation? I thought your kind had forbidden that skill. Odium will need to know.” He dove through the bead wall, vanishing.

Wind and Truth Chapter 9 ... 11