Chapter Text
2 months after the Night of Shadows
Adolin was tired.
So very tired.
Walking back to his quarters after yet another full day of debating what to do... or even whether to do anything, about the state of the world around Azir, it was all he could do not to slump. There were so many pros and cons to discuss... endlessly, it seemed... and it had never been something he was particularly good at.
Was it even right to help the rest of the people of the world? Apparently, the pact, which Retribution was holding to, at least for the time being, was to leave any nation that was not part of his domain alone... as long as they returned the favor. So taking any action at all would risk all of Azir, as well as, possibly, Urithiru.
But after only two months, they were already starting to hear rumors. Nothing truly heinous... it seemed that Retribution wasn't taking much direct action at all for some reason, but it seemed that a lot of singers in Retribution's lands had a lot of grudges from their time as mindless slaves. Adolin couldn't blame them, really, but still...
On the other hand, they were just rumors. Nothing concrete. Without spanreeds, they really didn't know much at all.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Storms . Adolin was so tired.
No leg. No father. No Shallan. Even Maya was gone at the moment, making another trek to Urithiru to see if there was any more news.
At least the sun was out again. It had come out a half a month before, and it had been beautiful. And warm. And it had stayed out...
...And now there was a drought in Azir. And flooding literally everywhere else, apparently.
It was flooded entirely in the north, from the Purelake. And to the south and west, they were surrounded by lands that had pretty much willingly joined the enemy... mostly out of hatred for Azir.
No leg. No father. No Shallan. He never got the chance to make it right with his father – the chance he'd needed so badly. And he didn't know when... or if... he'd ever be able to see Shallan again.
Adolin , he heard Maya say.
“You're back? Any news?”
Sort of, Maya said. It's... probably not good.
Damnation. Of course it wasn't. Nothing ever was, anymore.
Nothing much seems to have changed at Urithiru. The Sibling and their Radiant are still unreachable. It appears that your brother is trying to find a way to leave in order to be an emissary to the lands occupied by the enemy. Researchers are finding a way to get spanreeds working with Warlight, and have made some progress. But... there's one other thing.
“Just say it, Maya. Things can't get much worse, really.”
I worry about this mood of yours, Adolin. There is still life out there. There is still good. You are part of that. Please try to remember.
Adolin sighed. “Ok, I'll try.”
Good.
“What's the one other thing?”
The biggest things the spren, in Urithiru, and everywhere else, are talking about, are the lack of Stormlight, of course, and how the Stormfather is dead. Apparently, a lot of spren believe that his energy should have gone to the Ancient Daughter? But nobody can find her. Adolin, the last time nobody could find the Ancient Daughter, it was because her Radiant had died. I'm sorry. I know you knew him.
The Ancient Daughter. Where did he know that name fr...
Syl.
The Ancient Daughter was Syl. And her Radiant was... Kaladin.
Adolin's legs gave out. This was... this just felt like the end. Kaladin always lived. He always survived. He could survive anything ! Storm it, that's what the bridgeboy did ! He kept going, in the face of darkness. He wasn't just Adolin's friend, he was hope !
And in that moment, Adolin finally knew absolute hopelessness.
He started gasping for air – deep, harsh gasps that wracked his entire body, but somehow, no tears were coming out. He pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead, and just sat there for what felt like a very long time, just trying to breathe. Maya kept trying to talk to him, and while he could hear her, he couldn't get the energy to respond. Eventually, a few tears squeezed out, but it didn't seem like enough.
He wasn't sure how long he spent like that. But the next thing he was aware of, was a light entering the room.
“Hello. Is there anything I can do to be of service?”
Adolin blinked blearily, then looked up. There was a ball of light hovering in the room, with what appeared to be some sort of writing inside it. It looked familiar... like the spren that he, Shallan, and Kalak had communicated with Wit through, when they were in Shadesmar.
Adolin blinked dumbly at it.
“I am Olo. I was asked to come and see if I can be of service to you.”
“Hello, Olo,” Adolin mumbled, his training kicking in.
“I have a message for you. Shall I play it back?”
“Sure.”
The spren... Olo... reformed to a likeness of Shallan's face. Adolin immediately scrambled to his feet, wiping his face. “Shallan!”
The image disappeared. “I am sorry,” Olo said, “this is a recorded message only. Future messages, if they take place at the same time, can go in both directions, but not this message. I'm sorry. Would you like me to resume the message?”
“YES!”
Shallan's face reformed. She smiled, but it looked tired and worried to Adolin's eyes. “Hi Adolin. I really hope we can talk... really talk... very soon. Ala says that Olo is looking for somebody to help, so she thinks he'd be happy to come to you and serve you, at least until Wit comes back from wherever he is. I'll try every evening to initiate a conversation, though to be honest, it's really hard to tell time here. But I'll try.
“I'm ok. Really, I'm managing just fine. And I hope you are too. Please stay strong. I love you. And... I may have some news. Personal news. But I don't want to tell you over a recorded message. But I'll try to reach you every evening... evening here, that is... until we can talk. I love you. I miss you so much.”
Her image disappeared.
Adolin stared at where her face had been.
Then he smiled for what felt like the first time since the Night of Sorrows. It still felt a little wrong, after so much bad news in just two months. But Shallan was ok. And Damnation if he was going to let a little thing like the end of the world dampen his spirits.
Besides, the bridgeboy would never have approved if Adolin didn't get up again. Adolin would mourn him later... if they got any definitive word. But for right now, he'd better act as though Kaladin would do the usual “Stormblessed” thing... which was to make a spectacular entrance, out of nowhere, at any point.
“Sorry, Olo, I didn't introduce myself properly before. I'm Adolin, and it's very nice to meet you. Thank you for showing that to me... I definitely needed it.”
“It's good to meet you too, Adolin.”
“Thanks! Any chance you can be a little smaller, Olo? Can you do that? Can you change your size?”
“No, that's not possible, but depending on your goal, there may be another way? What is your goal?”
“I'd like you to be able to stay with me elsewhere in the palace, without attracting attention.”
“Ah! Yes, that I can do!” Olo's light dimmed until he became nearly invisible.
“Excellent! Thank you!” With that, Adolin washed his face, fixed his hair and his clothes, which... were horrendous! He looked like an absolute disaster! Why hadn't anybody told him how rumpled his clothes were, or his hair, or... gah! He was going to have to completely change.
And then he had an emperor to continue to train.