Knight of Iron

Exodus stood still and sighed as the so-called leader walked off, shaking his head slightly. Then, he reached out and touched the Shadow's mind. You have no idea who you're walking away from, Talnic.

"You have no purpose," he called, "you follow a prophecy because you fear the consequences, but you don't know what you're doing."

Exodus laughed back at the man. "Why do you even bother? Because of some prophecy?"

"Firstly, I'd like to mention, if you weren't already aware, that two of your followers will be leaving and aiding me in my quest. Minuet and Ara."

Exodus approached the Shadow. "Could I have a word before I leave?"

"Shadow," Exodus called. He had loosened his connection with Avren a bit, so Avren could walk off and do... whatever it is he needed to do before Exodus took him away. "Could I have a word, for a moment?" @Condensation @JesterLavorre

Cavalier grabbed his dead mouse thing and stabbed it with a stick nearby, then balanced it delicately over the fire.

"I think so," he said. "Can't be much else to it."

"I can place food over the fire, so yeah!"

Cruz woke with a start, realizing he had dozed off waiting and had had a horrible nightmare that the judge had been standing still for over fourteen days and that the trial never proceeded.

"Fire!" cried Cavalier. "Let's get grillin'."

Fresco blinked. Where was he? Who was he? He looked around, confused. A rip in reality opened up, humming, and Fresco was sucked through. The mysterious vortex closed, and Fresco was gone.

Fresco stumbled across the mountain, freezing. Where had he been? What had he been doing? Who had he been with? He had only vague memories. There was a... man? Someone called Martin? Something about pictures? He looked at the snowman he had made. Seriously, he was starting to go insane out here. Why couldn't he remember? Why couldn't he remember? Why couldn't he remember? At that final word, Fresco, in a brief millisecond of lucidity remembered everything. He remembered wars waged, battles won, loved ones killed. He remembered everything from his lives before then—lives long since lived, long since forgotten. Of lovers, of sadness, of tragedy, of heartbreak. Had he... had a daughter? A daughter who had long since been forgotten, who had long since forgotten her father. He remembered the absolute scourge of the world he had been on, a scourge of memory, a scourge he had almost defeated. He remembered how he had ended up in this strange world, but he didn't know how he was supposed to get back home. His memory had begun declining, and Fresco realized now that the scourge was still with him. He would ever be cursed to forget... For that moment he existed as a spectator, his lives laid before his eyes, and he fell to his knees, weeping for what would never be known. And in the next, it was all gone.

Fresco scratched his nose sadly.

Couldn't catch it live, but I watched the entire thing afterwards!

Fresco walked, all by himself. It was boring.

Fresco took a deep breath and screamed, "Where am I?!??!?" into the distance. Maybe someone would hear him all the way up wherever he was.

I did not follow that. Where'd the Shardhammer go?

Congratulations on your existence! Favorite Stormlight book?