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Adolin lies on the oiled street, slipping on his own armor as he tries to get up, hearing his younger brother's voice from a year ago — *I can handle it, Adolin. Just go!* The first thunderclast was the one Renarin saved him from. The man who saved Adolin then doesn't need him now. Renarin is the Radiant in their family and Adolin is, again, a common man in a world of giants. He slumps back. *I don't know if I can do this anymore.* Then a Thaylen hand lands on his shoulder. Hmask, head bloodied, is trying to lift a Shardbearer many times his weight off the ground.

It is enough. There are a lot of little boys in Azimir tonight, and only one Shardbearer left. He gets up, picks up a ten-foot remnant of the broken chain and Neziham's bloody Blade, introduces himself politely to it — *I need to borrow you for a little while* — and calls Gallant. He rides ahead of the thunderclast to the watchpost, climbs the outside in failing Plate, and from the top leaps onto the creature's snarled-branch back and locks himself there with the chain hook. From the saddle of its shaking he gets the Blade up under the base of the skull on the second try. The thing freezes mid-arch — then topples sideways, like a felled tree, straight down toward him.

Elsewhere in the besieged city, in a hospital corridor turned sickroom, Ash sits beside the bed of Taln, holding a callused hand attached to a man who has spent this Return mostly lying down and yet still has the muscles of a soldier — manifestations of his Identity. The sounds outside have gone quiet. The plaza is either won or lost. Then Abidi the Monarch steps into the hall with other Fused behind him and gives an order in the old language. *Slaughter them. It will demoralise the defenders.* Ash sinks into her chair, trembling, and closes her eyes.

The bed behind her creaks. She blinks her tears clear and looks up — and Taln is standing in the doorway, filling it, bare-chested in his short breeches, fists clenched. A Fused tosses a sphere of light and gasps. Abidi's eyes go wide with abject horror and he turns and runs — because the Bearer of Agonies, unarmed and without his Blade, is still the most terrifying warrior on Roshar. Windows crack as he leaves, air rushing in to fill the space he was in. For the first time in over four thousand years Talenel fights back.

And somewhere outside the city entirely, Renarin's Adolin-saved vision evaporates and he stands back in the Spiritual Realm proper, among shifting futures, and is *not afraid.* No longer the scared child needing his brother. No longer the abomination wondering whether he is mad. He is Truthwatcher, Glys's companion, Bridge Four. Glys is. *I will be erased. I will be hated.* Renarin holds out a hand. *Hide in me. I will protect you.* The spren melts into him, no gemheart, only welcome.

He imposes order on the chaos: a gallery of stained-glass windows opens around him on a black ground, each holding a scene from the world he knows. Shallan in one. His father and aunt in another, at a tent on a new battlefield. Rlain alone in a third. Then one window begins to darken — violet, blue, black — and a singer figure rails against the inside of the glass. Ba-Ado-Mishram. *Find me. So I may destroy you.* Glys confirms she has been seeding their visions all along — the Adolin-rescue one had been hers. The window does not lead to her prison; he will need to anchor *soul to soul* to reach her, and the chosen point will not be her.

He walks to Rlain's window instead and steps through into a small meeting room of Narak where the singer is sitting alone, head bowed, humming the Rhythm of Annoyance. Renarin almost retreats — that posture is one he recognises in himself — but pushes through on a remembered piece of Drehy advice. They talk about being sent away as a spy, about being the one for whom other people have to bend. Rlain hums to Appreciation. *It's so awful that people have to grow and stretch themselves around you. Becoming better.* The sun sets outside. Starspren come out. Renarin pushes through one more wall of awkwardness and asks whether a singer could be in a relationship with a human; Rlain tells him gently that he tried mateform once, that he had been trying to attract Harvo — a male — that mateform is not as central to singers as humans assume, and that personality compatibility is what matters. Then he rests his hand on Renarin's, and Renarin turns it upward, and feels the Rhythm of Excitement pulse through him.

Outside, Shallan is hopping up and down silently. Renarin sighs and laughs, and the awkwardness, for once, has passed. He has things to tell the others. He thinks Mishram is influencing all their visions, and that has to mean something.