ChickenBonanza

No place on Roshar was as free as the Purelake. To Talan, the place of his adolescence offered naught but the comfort of the sun and tides. And nostalgia. Thoughtfulness. Questions asked to night air.

“Did I do the right thing?”

Shimmers from turbulent waters responded. The lake, as always, lie placid. “One is alive when they could be not. What wrong has been committed?” There was little chance they missed his meaning.

“Things; plural,” Simulacra-Veritas corrected from her position on Talan’s shoulder. Standing firm and straight with hands clasped behind her back. Not half as tall as a hand. “Is this our most desired outcome? Of course not.” That was true. None of this could be happening.

Talan waded with light steps. Every footfall could be the one to hide a legbreaking abyss, smothered in shadow cast by low moons. He walked passed empty horizons through a dark night. Formulating his thoughts to explain needlessly aloud his inner turmoil, distracted and drawn away by paranoias of ubiquitous watchers hovering long in the sky; forced constantly into reiteration and repetition.

There were none to be found. A Skybreaker’ve executed him by now if they had. He had no Light left to bridge a way back to Shadesmar—and absolutely none to leave.

Another thing to mourn. Former compatriots oathbound to pursue your death. Friends who could still taste and breathe a great height’s thinning air. Talan had forgotten that feeling, already.

“I think I could describe my—our, I guess—time under the Skybreakers as a period of complacency,” Talan finally continued. “There were some who could have listened to us. Trusted us in our belief that we were misguided. Instead, I remained silent. Secure in refusing to risk myself to enact change. Hiding behind obedience and stoicism. They would’ve had to respect a formal inquiry—“

“There is a point,” Simulacra reminded, as Talan unclenched fists and massaged aching palms. “There is a decision. A direction to go from here. You have it.”

A sunbeam ran over his foot. “You will have to tell us where we’re going, eventually.”

“I have answers to all of your questions,” Talan admitted, willing himself to smile. “Do not worry yourselves, my companions, for we are pursuing perhaps the greatest ability a man can express.”

Simulacra gave her best impression of a sigh, while Deepest-Fathoms laughed in his head. They were the one to indulge all dramatic flair. “What might that be, o’ wise leader?”

Talan spread out his hands. “Change.”