Naharn Palep Carekt (NPC), near Hidden Library
Five blocks away from the library, Naharn studied the writing that she had prepared for the occasion. When she was little, a small girl in rural Alethkar, she had fallen in love with writing. She was lucky enough to know how to read—a strange man (ardent, he must have been an ardent if he could read) who wore black clothing with a pointy nose had taught it to her—and she frequently had stolen books from people with more money than she. But that hadn’t been enough. She had wanted to write stories. And she had.
Around this time, Dropcap—that idiot cremling of a spren, if he would just LEAVE HER THE STORMS ALONE!—had come to her. Talked to her. Even helped her. Things were different then.
She had learned to make illusions then, using her writing as a focus. She wrote about what she wanted to be and then—
She was.
So now, she read her description of the man she would be, sucked in Stormlight, and became him. Spikes grew from her eyes, and her skin grew lighter. She took at a mirror and smiled at her reflection. The Lightweaving and worked. She walked to the address mentioned by her client, and audibly broke a window and climbed in, not noticing how the shards of glass broke through her skin and caused blood to seep out. She allowed herself to smile.
She was in.
@TheRavenHasLanded