Death really did not matter to him but life did, and therefore the sensation he felt when they gave their decision was not a feeling of fear but of nostalgia.

There were no symbols on the breastplate, because he was not Radiant. Adolin had no idea what he was, other than the son of both Dalinar and Evi Kholin. The product of both of their hopes. He was Adolin Kholin. A man with very good friends.

A crash broke the silence, windows cracking, air rushing to fill the hole Taln left when he moved. And for the first time in over four thousand years, the Bearer of Agonies fought back.

“To think,” Kaladin said softly, “that you have lived millenia and you haven’t learned a simple truth.” He pulled a deep blue cloak from the pack, the tower and the crown emblazoned on the back. “Nobility has nothing to do with blood, Ishar. But it has everything to do with heart.”

“Reforged,” Ishar said. He hesitated a moment, then lifted his arm to gesture toward Kaladin. “Welcome, Kaladin Stormblessed. Herald of Kings. Herald of the Wind. Herald of . . .” “Herald,” Kaladin said, “of Second Chances.”

There, Adolin realized he was smiling. Stupid bridgeboy. Where did he get off, being so inspiring?

And so, in the face of the most awful darkness he’d ever felt, Kaladin Stormblessed took a deep breath. Then stood up.

I will protect myself, so that I may continue to protect others.

“It won’t be like that for me,” Kaladin said. “You told me it would get worse.” “It will,” Wit said, “but then it will get better. Then it will get worse again. Then better. This is life, and I will not lie by saying every day will be sunshine. But there will be sunshine again, and that is a very different thing to say. That is truth. I promise you, Kaladin: You will be warm again.”

“You. Cannot. Have. My. SACRIFICE!” she shouted. “Mine. My sacrifice. Not yours.” She pointed at the crowd. “Not theirs.” She pointed at Adolin. “Not his. Mine. MY SACRIFICE.” “WE CHOSE.”