The Way of Kings (The Stormlight Archive, Book 1)

Lights and colors swarmed his mind, where his Elysian power normally rested, as though a dozen dams had burst within him at once. So much that had once eluded him became clear. Simple. He had the answer to all the world’s problems, and he had to share them. No, he didn’t have the answer. He was the answer.

“You are an interesting experience, my friend,” Ym said as the shimmer of light moved onto the last itself. “One in which I am honored to participate.” “I . . .” the spren said. “I . . .” The spren’s form shook suddenly, then grew more intense, like light being focused. “He comes.

“Not easy,” Dalinar said, “but there is no point in demanding answers.” “Particularly if the Almighty is dead. . . .” Perhaps he should not have shared that fact with her. Speaking of just that one idea could brand him a heretic, drive his own ardents from him, give Sadeas a weapon against the Throne. If the Almighty was dead, what

The old songs spoke of hundreds of forms. Now they knew of only five. Well, six if one counted slaveform, the form with no spren, no soul, and no song. The form the humans were accustomed to, the ones they called parshmen. It wasn’t really a form at all, however, but a lack of any form.