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Something changes. Vin, drifting in contemplation of the dying world, notices Ruin's nexus snap suddenly to a single place — and follows. Speed has no meaning at her scale; she simply attends to where he attends, and finds herself looking down into a small chamber dug into the ground near the Pits of Hathsin. Above ground, the Pits camp has swelled into an enormous refugee city eating through the food the Terris had stockpiled. The Terris give of their last flocks freely, and a corner of her thought turns affectionate: the Lord Ruler bred them to be docile and instead produced a thoughtful, kindly people who feed strangers as their world ends.

What she has been noticing for some time at this place is a shining blaze — more powerful, to her godlike sight, than the sun. As she draws closer she can barely look at it; she only hears voices from within the glare. *Take this,* one says, *find humans, trade for weapons.* *Yes, Lord KanPaar,* answers another. *The foolish Firsts have sat on this treasure too long. With these riches we could rule mankind, not serve it.* A subordinate hesitates: *I thought we did not want to change things?* *Not quickly. For now, just a little needs to sell.*

Vin understands what she is looking at and feels a sudden dread. The hoard is hidden in a place that already shines to her sight because of all the metal deposits packed around it — the surrounding noise drowns out the signal. Ruin could never have found this. The depth of the Lord Ruler's thousand-year deception unfolds: obligators writing only on metal so he could not read them, atium moving in Ministry coin convoys disguised as ordinary pay, the Pits operation kept far from Inquisitors because he knew Ruin could corrupt them. *You don't know what I do for mankind,* he had told her. She had not. *Thank you,* she thinks at him now.

Ruin surges with power and she blocks him, but exactly as she had been able to squeeze two words past him to Elend, he is now able to push a tendril through her to the kandra below — because KanPaar is spiked. Through the Hemalurgic metal in his shoulders Ruin reaches in and takes him. KanPaar stiffens. *Who are you? Why are you in my head?* *I am God,* Ruin answers in him. *And you are mine.* *All of you are mine.*

Far above and to the south, Elend lands at the Pits in a puff of ash and is met by spear-tipped soldiers who freeze when they recognise him. He knows them — his own men from Fadrex, the ones he sent back with Demoux to help Penrod in Luthadel. *You sent us back, my lord. We came here when Luthadel failed.* He looks up at a starry sky; he has lost track of how much of the false night is left, and what will happen when the sun rises again does not bear thinking about. *Take me to the leaders of this camp,* he says.

Back in the Homeland, Sazed watches the First Generation re-enter the main chamber with the flair he had hoped for. Their new bodies are larger than before but still bear the aged colouring of the Firsts, and what he had not counted on is that most of the kandra live long enough to have seen the Firsts several times in their lives. Recognition spreads as the Firsts denounce KanPaar for betraying them and order the kandra people to assemble. Sazed watches from the side beside MeLaan for the first sign that the plan is about to come apart.

It comes apart as a familiar shape approaches him at the wall. TenSoon — still wearing the Fifth's body, still pretending to be FhorKood — opens his mouth to whisper *something is wrong, Keeper*. Then he attacks. Sazed's moment of confusion costs him; the granite-boned kandra is much heavier than he is and they go down together, TenSoon's hands locked around Sazed's throat. *TenSoon?* MeLaan gasps. It cannot be him, Sazed thinks, choking; it cannot be — but it is, and the kandra is talking through clenched teeth, half-apologising the whole time. *Keeper, something is very wrong. I can barely keep myself from crushing your throat. Something has control of me. It wants me to kill you. I'm sorry.* Sazed gropes for the steel lock in his pocket, knowing it will not help — speed does no good against a grip he cannot break.

The Firsts have gathered around them. Sazed is barely able to focus, panic and pulse and a much heavier man on top of him. *It has come, then,* whispers Haddek beside him. Another of the Firsts begins to shake the same way TenSoon is shaking. Haddek turns from Sazed and shouts in a voice that fills the chamber: *the Resolution has come!*

Above Sazed, TenSoon jerks. Tradition and a lifetime of birth-sworn obedience war against the will riding him. He releases Sazed's throat with one hand and lifts that hand toward his own shoulder — toward his own Blessing spike, the thing he has carried since he was made — the other hand still choking. Sazed blacks out.