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Kaladin transfers Rlain, Venli, and her newly bonded singer friends — Dul, Mazish, and the others — via the Sylblade to a platform outside Narak. The Shattered Plains air is wetter and feels familiar to Rlain as they step out onto stone. Leshwi and the four conscious Heavenly Ones meet them. Kaladin offers her a place at Narak; she declines for all of them. They fought their own to preserve lives and do not wish to continue. They will take a third option — the path of the listeners. Venli will find a way out here, somehow.

Rlain hugs Venli and hums to Praise. *I don't deserve any of this. I was weak.* *Then start doing better. That is the path of Radiance, Venli. We're both on it now.* The Heavenly Ones rise into the air to Praise and begin lowering the new listeners and supplies into the chasm; with the highstorm passed and Fused to watch from above for chasmfiends, they should reach the eastern flats where the rest of the listeners have gone. Kaladin rests a hand on Rlain's shoulder, his living Plate invisible beneath the touch. Tumi pulses, naming Rlain *Bridger of Minds*, telling him Renarin recommended him to Sja-anat. Rlain has decided to stay: Bridge Four, Radiant, Urithiru his home. But something has begun to gnaw at him — if the humans could win this war by taking the singers' minds again as they did in the past, would they take it? Someone needs to stay close enough to watch. Kaladin says it is time. They have to give Teft a proper send-off.

Taravangian's mind, vision, and essence expand. He becomes the power and begins to understand the cosmere on a fundamental level. His predecessor had been sliding toward oblivion for a long, long time — weakened in past battles, deeply wounded by Honor, enslaved by the power itself; failing to claim Dalinar and losing both the tower and Stormblessed had left him frail. But the power is anything but frail: life and death, creation and destruction, the power of raw fury and hatred unbound. He has two sides — his knowledge of millions of possible futures, and his fury, churning like an unbridled storm. He is aware of the mortal world he has left: Szeth has sheathed Nightblood beside a burned-out corpse of stone-grey bone — the body of Rayse, mistaken for him. They think him dead. He is free. Free to destroy. *No. To plan. To devise a way to save the world from itself.* Then he becomes aware of something else: a growing godly power nearby, infinite and verdant. He is not alone.

In the tower, Bridge Four gives Teft a king's funeral, Soulcasting him to stone for the locked chamber where the ancient Radiants stand as sentries. A sculptor will be commissioned to place Phendorana beside him. It will feel right to see Teft scowling there in uniform despite the embalmer's best efforts. All of Bridge Four comes except Rock — Skar and Drehy returned from the Shattered Plains with the news that Kaladin will not be seeing him again. They drink, burn prayers, and drift to a tavern to keep celebrating in the way Teft would have loved (even if he would not have let himself participate). They keep checking on Kaladin — worried for him, worried about the darkness — and he loves them for it. But he is kind of all right; a good night's sleep and the restored tower have helped. He sits with the statue.

Syl lands beside him fully sized in a Bridge Four uniform and rests her head on his shoulder; he can faintly feel her. *We won't stop missing him, will we?* *No. But that's all right. So long as we cling to the moments we had.* She is mostly herself again — some of what she felt was Raboniel's doing, but some of it wasn't. *Alive. And this is part of being alive. So I'm grateful, even if part of it stinks.* Kaladin doesn't know whether he believes in the Almighty or the Tranquiline Halls or whether anyone lives after they die. He saw something in a vision — Tien giving him the wooden horse, which then vanished — and that probably means his mind fabricated the meeting. But he doesn't let it take from him what he accomplished. He laid down a heavy burden. The pain does not go away; the shame, mostly, he leaves behind him. He embraces the statue, wipes his eyes, and stands. Time to move forward, and decide what to do with himself now that the crisis has ended.

Back at the edge of infinity, the power molds Taravangian as he bridles it. He steps to the bank of an eternal ocean — possibilities like a million rising suns. A woman stands beside him: dark skin, full curled hair, round face, with deeper truer shapes beneath. *Do you understand now?* He does. She needed someone who could tempt the power but also control it; her gift had been preparing him for this. She did not know he would succeed — only hoped his honor could carry the weight. She warns that of the sixteen, Odium is the most dangerous; it ruled Rayse and will rule him too if he lets it. He looks into infinity. He had wanted to save his city; he succeeded. After that, Roshar. He can end this war — Dalinar's contract already would. Beyond that, the cosmere is in chaos, ruled by fools, presided over by broken gods. He sees the openings his predecessor missed in the contract; he can beat Dalinar. *Come*, Cultivation says. *Let me teach you. You can do better than Rayse ever did.* He smiles and takes her hand. Inside, he exults. *Oh, you wonderful creature. You have no idea what you have done.* He is finally free. And Taravangian is going to save them all.