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The Kholin army marches in the dark before dawn and crosses chasms east toward the Tower, Sadeas's army moving in parallel a plateau or two to the north. The march is long and orderly. Dalinar rides in his Plate beside Adolin and reviews the joint plan in his head: Sadeas's bridges and infantry first onto the Tower, the Kholin infantry sweeping in behind to roll up the Parshendi left flank. They have done variants of this dance for six years. The men sing. The mood is high.

They reach the staging plateau adjacent to the Tower in early light. Sadeas's bridges go down first, exactly as agreed, and the joint force pours across into the Parshendi line. The Tower is bigger than any plateau they have fought on; the Parshendi are more numerous than expected; the chrysalis with the gemheart is set deeper toward the formation's far side than it has ever been. Dalinar commits hard. He pushes the Kholin infantry through the breach and orders Adolin's cavalry around. The plan is working. The center is breaking.

And then Adolin, who has climbed a rock formation to get a better look at the flank, calls down: *Father — you need to see this.* Dalinar climbs up beside him with his visor slapping. Across the chasm to the west, on the staging plateau they came from, Sadeas's army is no longer engaging. It is *withdrawing*. The bridges his men ran in on are being pulled back across the chasm. The eight bridge crews he lent to the Kholins are gone. Sadeas's banner is already across, retreating, with half the army gone past it and the other half streaming after. The Kholin army stands committed on the Tower, surrounded on three sides by Parshendi, with no road home and no way for the bridgeless to retreat. *Oh no*, Adolin whispers. The trap closes.