Chapter 97

Anti-Light is not inherently the opposite of standard Light, nor is it negative, or imaginary, or a philosophical opposite. It is a different phase of the same entity. I see it more like the same melody, played at a different time.

—From Rhythm of War, first coda, Navani Kholin

A shadow overcame Shallan, and tried to propel her straight into a singularly painful moment—when she’d first seen her mother again after all those years.

Shallan refused. She needed the vision to start a bit earlier than that so she could have more space to remember lighter times, before she confronted more darkness. She could and would do this; she just needed some trackway first to begin running. She felt a hint of surprise in the shifting motions of the chaos as she asserted her will over the vision, but it passed in a blink, and she appeared in her own body once again.

She was seated, being fussed over by the royal Alethi makeup artists. She remembered being amused that such a thing as official royal makeup artists existed.

It was her wedding day. She’d been betrothed to Adolin for months, but the marriage had not yet proceeded. In part because she hadn’t committed until after the battle of Thaylen Field—where Dalinar had united the realms for the first time. That day, a glorious event had occurred: Adolin Kholin had pierced through illusion and facade and seen the real Shallan.

She had seen him too. Experienced the deep, true him, and the wonderful future they could have. Now she sat—stressed and overwhelmed—as they prepared her for the actual ceremony.

Until the boots arrived.

Kaladin’s gift—ones that would fit her, but of a military cut and design. Shallan laughed, holding them up. The stress melted away. She was both women. The Shallan getting married, and the Shallan living through these visions again. To anyone else, being two women at once might have been demanding and confusing. For Shallan it was just everyday life.

Only two people at the same time? How easy.

After the gifts, Shallan was led to a small room to pray and meditate. Today, she ran her fingers over the brushpen and ink jar, thinking. At the time, she hadn’t enjoyed her wedding as much as she should have. The day had been chaos and anxiety, like so much of her life, really. She had been Jasnah’s ward. Shouldn’t she have learned to instill a little order in her life?

Humming sounded from behind.

She turned to find Pattern there, full sized, holding hands with Testament—who was the one humming.

“She wanted to be here, with you,” Pattern said. “On this day, a year ago. Unfortunately, she had to remain hidden. To protect you.”

“From myself.”

“From the pains of life,” Pattern replied. “And from truth, for a time. In you, the lie was life, Shallan. We need them sometimes. Even spren. You taught me that.”

Shallan took Testament’s hands in her own. “Thank you.”

Testament, in return, mumbled something Shallan couldn’t make out. Shallan leaned in, straining to hear as Testament repeated the words.

“Enjoy. It.”

“Enjoy it?” Shallan asked. “What?”

“Life.”

How? There was so much to do. So much that was wrong. Testament squeezed her hands, the spren’s pattern rotating in its lethargic way.

Words from the dead to the living. Enjoy it.

“I deserve this,” Shallan said, leaning back, remembering what she’d realized on this day. It was all right to be happy. “Why do I need to keep learning the same lessons? Can’t I make progress for once?”

“You aren’t relearning the same lessons,” Pattern said. “You’re reinforcing them. In math, you can know a thing, yes, but it is the proof that teaches the deeper truth. Life is your proof, Shallan.”

“I suppose,” Shallan said, “it is good to revisit what you’ve learned, now and then. For added context.”

These visions … Had she appreciated them? The ability to go back and witness life as it had been? Laughter with her brothers. Seeing her father again. Hurtful though he had often been, she didn’t hate him.

Then there was her mother.

She had been here, at the wedding. Shallan had refused to see, or at least remember, the first time. Now her eyes were open, and her veil removed.

“I want to live it again,” she whispered. “Let’s do it.”

Her brothers soon invaded her small chamber, as they had on that day. She embraced them as if seeing them for the first time in ages, which—in a way—was true of her current self too. She let them love her, and she loved them.

She accepted the letter they had brought from Mraize, explaining that he had kept his promise and protected them. As always, there was an implicit threat in his words. Today she ignored that. Today, she was going to enjoy her wedding. How many people actually got to relive such a marvelous event? She took a deep breath, stepped out, and joined the celebration.

It was beautiful.

They’d chosen one of the top rooms of Urithiru, with an enormous window looking out at frosted peaks. Everyone was there, swirling with joyspren like blue leaves. Her brothers, who’d only just discovered their sister was marrying one of the most powerful men in the world. Her squires, who were becoming Radiants in their own right. Vathah, Ishnah, Red, Gaz, even Shob. Stargyle and Beryl hadn’t joined yet at the time.

Kaladin stood in a back corner, his face an emotionless mask. She tried not to think of choosing Adolin as a rejection of Kaladin—more an acknowledgment that for all the powerful moments they’d experienced together, their relationship was not one of romance but shared pain.

Sebarial and Palona, looking like proud parents. Women she’d come to know, like Ka and Rushu. Everyone in their finest, men in formal white suits with colors—in sashes or capes—declaring house allegiances. Havahs with sparkling gemstones on the women, burning with their own light. Ribbons, streamers, lace, tapestries, and rugs. All brilliant.

Yet all struggling—and failing—to compete with Adolin.

By tradition, he entered right as she did, from his own meditation room. He wore a brand-new side sword, because of course he did. He’d later tell her it was a gift from Kaladin. He’d been given forty-seven different swords that day, including one from her, and had chosen to wear Kaladin’s.

Another man might have done that to prove victory over a rival. For Adolin, it was an earnest acknowledgment of a friend. Shallan took a Memory of it all, something she’d failed to do last year. She would re-create this day in art—but knew that no mere charcoal pencil would suffice. She’d need to practice with oils; as soon as Dalinar’s contest was finished, that would be her task.

She met Adolin in the center of the room. He wore white, again by tradition, though she’d never seen an Alethi wedding outfit before, with its exaggerated cloth shoulders, its robelike design, its stiff—yet wide—cuffs and collar. Trimmed in Kholin blue, with a formal blue hat to represent modesty before the Almighty. Her sapphire dress was equally antiquated, with swooping wide cuffs and so much embroidery it covered most of the dress. The sewn-in rubies glowed, reflected in the gold on the bridal crown and thick overvest.

Shallan loved it—they looked like characters from a play. And as gorgeous as Adolin’s outfit was, nothing could match his smile as he took her hands. In Jah Keved, she would have been given away by a senior house member, but by Alethi tradition, no one led them or gave them away. They were their own free people by the law, and owned by none.

Witnesses were required, however, and Navani and Palona would offer the notarization for that. They moved up alongside the arch that represented a portal to a new beginning. On the right side was Wit, dressed in black, the only one in the room wearing that color.

Hand in hand, Shallan and Adolin walked to the arch and stood beneath it. Kadash, the ex-warrior ardent, officiated. Adolin’s trusted spiritual advisor. She remembered the ceremony going by in a flash before. Today it lingered. As she stared into Adolin’s eyes and felt his hands, she let it be wonderful. Let it last as long as possible.

“Nothing brings the Almighty more joy,” Kadash said, “than an oath made in earnest. So it should be no surprise that two oaths, made in love, are an experience sublime.

“We were formed by the Almighty, and find our deepest joy in building, creating, making oaths—and keeping them. The truly special experience of marriage is the chance to help one another in this journey. None of us is perfect, and so none of us can keep oaths perfectly. Though you remain devoted, there will be fires of anger, frustration, confusion, and pain.

“When those flames blaze, remember this day. Remember this oath, which is unique, as you do not make it alone. Together, you’re stronger than apart. Together, your oaths will stand apart from the world.

“I believe that in nothing are we so blessed,” Kadash continued, “as we are in our ability to accept one another as imperfect, yet trying. So look at one another. Remember this love, but know that this is merely the beginning. Each day, love should grow, until what you come to feel is a bonfire to today’s candle, overshadowing lesser flames.

“To build a bonfire is more difficult than to light a candle. You will find the powerful heat to be a reward all throughout your lives. Here, I witness—we all witness—that a bond is formed. What the Almighty forges, let no person seek to undermine.”

Shallan beamed. She felt it. Being here. Being alive. Adolin’s warmth, from his palms into hers. Heat of life and love.

“Your oaths have been prepared?” Kadash asked.

“They have,” Adolin said, squeezing her hands. “Shallan, my life is yours, my strength is yours, and our journeys are now one. My oath to you is love. Forever.”

“Adolin,” she whispered, remembering the words she’d spoken as if they were new, “my life is yours. My strength, always, is yours. When you are weak, let me be strong. When I am weak, please lend me your strength. And when we are both weak, at least we will not be alone. Never again alone, for our journeys have together become one. My love, forever. This is my oath.”

He grinned. “A little improvisation from what you wrote before, gemheart?”

She leaned in. “Get used to it, gemheart. It will only get wilder from here.”

He kissed her, causing some whispers in the room, as it was not yet time for kissing. He could improvise as well.

“Then,” Kadash said, “it is witnessed and sealed by my authority from the Almighty. Two oaths have become one. Two hearts become one. Two journeys become one. You, Adolin Kholin, and you, Shallan Davar, are one.” He paused. “This is when you’re supposed to kiss …”

She grabbed Adolin, went up on her toes, and kissed him with as much force and life and heat as she could manage, in an explosion of passionspren like crystalline snow. She held it, until she heard people coughing and shuffling, but she didn’t care about their discomfort. She breathed his breath and pressed herself to him and became his as he became hers.

Because she.

Deserved.

This.

So much might be wrong and stressful, but she did not walk alone any longer. She had him. Storms send that the real version stayed safe. All of her prayers in that moment, holding to the memory of him, were focused upon that.

Protect. Him.

Breaking the kiss at last, she sought out Pattern and Testament. She found them full sized—but ignored by the others. Shallan was sure she saw something right itself in Testament’s pattern just then. Tines unbending slightly; her pattern restoring in some small way. Testament had been unable to attend the wedding the first time, but now … now it could be right. Indeed, Shallan hadn’t been able to experience this fully the first time either. She’d still had things to learn.

Today, she looked away from the spren. Toward Kaladin brooding in one corner. After checking on him, she’d looked to Sebarial and Palona, given them a grin, then had seen a flash of red hair behind them. Followed by a face.

That haunting, distressing face.

Shallan had given that moment to Veil. Now, she could finally see, accept, and acknowledge it. Her mother stood at the back of the room, among the servants.

The Herald had died, and returned.

Shallan had killed her and sent her to Braize, where she had broken and come back to Roshar. Initiating the Return, unleashing the Voidbringers, and starting all of this.