POV: navani
Summary
Disconnecting from the Sibling's full power leaves Navani feeling small. She keeps a thread of awareness — heat, pressure, light, life — and a sense for the crystal veins that run through the tower. *I swore I would never do this again*, the Sibling says. *I swore I was done with humans.* Then it is good that spren, like humans, can change their minds. Their bond is unusual, the Sibling tells her. What about fabrials? They will find a compromise — through logic and hope, in equal measure. *I wish to believe you. But as of yet, I do not. I am sorry.*
Navani walks out of the pillar room past Raboniel's body — and the Fused's eyes open. Moash's stroke spared her eyes, but one arm and both her legs are dead. She tells Navani not to weep; she would have killed her to accomplish her goal. *Instead, you saved me.* Navani offers to meet again at her rebirth. No — Raboniel's soul is too burned away, she will return mad. So she sent Navani to the desk: a black sack with a diamond holding the precious, terrible anti-Voidlight. Navani fits it to the dagger that wounded her, cleans Moash's blood, reverses the metal strip, and kneels beside Raboniel.
*Are you sure?* A nod. *I have done what I wished. Odium is worried. He may allow an ending.* Raboniel asks for one last gift: she would like to hear rhythms again. Navani begins to sing Honor's tone, Raboniel manages a weak hum to Odium's, and Navani modulates her voice down until the two snap together for the last time. *End it. Make sure they let it all end.* *I will.* Humming her best, holding a former immortal's hand, Navani drives the dagger in. Raboniel's eyes go marble-white, a breath of black smoke escapes her lips, and Navani hums until the smoke dissipates. *You have performed a kindness*, the Sibling says. *I feel awful.* *That is part of the kindness.* Navani presses her forehead against Raboniel's as the Fused did for her daughter, tucks the dagger safely away, takes her copy of Rhythm of War under her arm, leaves a note that this hero's body is not to be disposed of without the queen's say, and goes to be a queen to a tower set free.
In Azimir, Taravangian wakes late and stupid — stupider than he has ever been — and weeps in front of so many shamespren and fearspren that he can barely think. He stumbles to the basket of food at his window and finds a note sealed with Renarin Kholin's signet. *I'm sorry.* Two large gemstones glow with something moving in them. Hadn't he been told to watch for something like that? A highstorm comes; he dreads it is the Everstorm and that the enemy knows what he has done. Today, he understands suddenly, he dies. Today it ends.
The door slams open on its hinges. Szeth stands silhouetted against a darkening sky, illusion gone, head freshly shaved, in an Alethi uniform with the terrible sword at his side. *How did you know? My father. How did you know my father was dead? How did you know that Ishar reclaimed his sword?* Taravangian, too dim to find words, huddles. Szeth picks up the gems, shatters them one after the other against the wall, and strange windspren trailing red light spin laughing around him. *Ever you manipulate me. Ever you seek to stain my hands with the blood of those you would kill.* Taravangian tries to flee, falls, is lifted and slammed against the wall — something snaps in his shoulder. The room starts to grow golden. *All this time I wanted to keep my honor. You broke me, Taravangian.* Szeth reaches not for Nightblood but for the small belt-knife. *I decide now. Me. No one else compelling me. Know that in killing you, I make it my choice.*
Odium arrives in thunder and rage, his face distorted, eyes blazing — *you should not tempt me today, Taravangian. I have lost my champion AGAIN, and now I am bound by an agreement I do not want.* He demands to know whether Taravangian has been speaking with Sja-anat. Awe, fear, excitement, all at once. Szeth's knife bites in. Through fear and pain Taravangian feels something else push through: bravery. The dying courage of a soldier charging a line. The glory of a mother fighting for her child. The feeling of an old man stepping into the dark. Odium pulls his soul into the place between realms; the sword at Szeth's belt manifests there too. Taravangian seizes Nightblood, hears it scream for pleasure, and rams it up into Odium's chest. *Destroy!* the sword roars. The blade drinks greedily — and as Szeth's knife finishes Taravangian's body in the Physical Realm, the Vessel who held the power evaporates into Nightblood. So much Investiture that the sword goes dull and lethargic, sated.
A vacuum opens where the Vessel had been — power left without one, like a gemstone suddenly without Stormlight — and reaches out. Taravangian feels a distinct Connection to it. *Passion. Hatred. Fear. Anger. Shame. Awe. Bravery.* The power loves these things and surges around him. His soul vibrates. *Take me. You are perfect. I am yours.* Taravangian hesitates only briefly, then thrusts his hands into the well of power. And Ascends to godhood, becoming Odium.