Mistborn: Secret History (Mistborn, #3.5)(46)
Then Kelsier did the most difficult thing he’d ever done.
“Giving you power!” he roared to Vin, letting go of Preservation’s essence so she could take it up.
Vin drew in the mists.
And Ruin’s full fury came against Kelsier, slamming him down, ripping into his soul. Tearing him apart.
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Kelsier was cloven asunder with a rending, pervasive pain—like that of a bone being pulled from a socket. He tumbled, unable to see or think—unable to do more than scream at the attack.
He ended up someplace surrounded by mist, blind to anything beyond its shifting. Death, for real this time? No . . . but he was very close. He could feel the stretching coming upon him again, coaxing him, trying to pull him toward that distant point where everyone else had gone.
He wanted to go. He hurt so much. He wanted it all to end, to go away. Everything. He just wanted it to stop.
He had felt this despair before, in the Pits of Hathsin. He didn’t have Preservation’s voice to guide him now, as he had then, but—weeping, trembling—he sank his hands into the misty expanse around him and held on. Clinging to it, refusing to go. Denying that force that called to him, promising peace and an ending.
Eventually it stilled, and the stretching sensation faded away. He had held the power of deity. The final death could not take him unless he wanted it to.
Or unless he was completely destroyed. He shuddered in the mists, thankful for their embrace, but still uncertain where he was—and uncertain why Ruin hadn’t finished the job. He’d planned to; Kelsier had felt that. Fortunately, Kelsier’s destruction had become an afterthought in the face of a new threat.
Vin. She’d done it! She’d Ascended!
Groaning, Kelsier pulled himself upward, finding he’d been hit so hard by Ruin’s attack that he’d been driven far down into the springy, misty ground of the Cognitive Realm. He was able to pull himself out, with difficulty, and collapsed onto the surface. His soul was distorted, mangled, like a body struck by a boulder. It leaked dark smoke from a thousand holes.
As he lay there it slowly reformed, and the pain—at long last—faded. Time had passed. He didn’t know how much, but it had been hours upon hours. He wasn’t in Luthadel. De-Ascending—then being crushed by Ruin’s power—had flung his soul far from the city.
He blinked phantom eyes. Above him the sky was a tempest of white and black tendrils, like clouds attacking one another. In the distance he could hear something that made the Realm tremble. He forced himself to his feet and walked, eventually cresting a hill where he saw—below—that figures made of light were locked in battle. A war, men against koloss.
Preservation’s plan. He’d seen it, understood it in those last moments. Ruin’s body was atium. The plan was to create something special and new—people who could burn away Ruin’s body in an attempt to get rid of it.
Below, men fought for their lives, and he could saw them transcending the Physical Realm because of the body of the god that they burned. Above, Ruin and Preservation clashed. Vin did a much better job of it than Kelsier had; she had the full power of the mists, and beyond that there was something natural about the way she held that power.
Kelsier dusted himself off and adjusted his clothing. Still the same shirt and trousers he’d been wearing during his fight with the Inquisitor long ago. What had happened to his pack and the knife Nazh had given him? Those were lost somewhere on the endless fields of ash between here and Fadrex.
He crossed through the battle, stepping out of the way of raging koloss and transcendent men who could see into the Spiritual Realm, if only in a very limited way.
Kelsier reached the top of a hill and stopped. On another hill beyond, distant but close enough to make out, Elend Venture stood among a pile of corpses, clashing with Marsh. Vin hovered above, expansive and incredible, a figure of glowing light and awesome power—like an inspiration for the sun and clouds.
Elend Venture raised his hand, and then exploded with light. Lines of white scattered from him in all directions, lines that drilled through all things. Lines that Connected him to Kelsier, to the future, and to the past.
He’s seeing it fully, Kelsier thought. That place between moments.
Elend ended with a sword in Marsh’s neck, and looked directly at Kelsier, transcending the three Realms.
Marsh slammed an axe into Elend’s chest.
“No!” Kelsier screamed. “No!” He stumbled down the hillside, running for Venture. He climbed over corpses, shadowy on this side, and scrambled toward where Elend had died.
He hadn’t reached the position yet when Marsh took off Elend’s head.
Oh, Vin. I’m sorry.
Vin’s full attention coursed around the fallen man. Kelsier pulled to a stop, numb. She would rage. She would lose control. She would . . .
Rise in glory?
He watched, awed, as Vin’s strength coalesced. There was no hatred in the thrumming that washed from her, calming all things. Above her Ruin laughed, again assuming he knew so much. That laughter cut off as Vin rose against him, a glorious, radiant spear of power—controlled, loving, compassionate, but unyielding.
Kelsier knew then why she, and not he, had needed to do this.
Vin crashed her power against Ruin’s, suffocating him. Kelsier stepped up to the top of the hill, watching, feeling a familiarity with that power. A kinship that warmed him deep within as Vin performed the ultimate act of heroism.