Page 114 of The Sunlit Man

A deep coldness crept through Zellion, like frost growing on his bones. He gasped.

“And then,” the Cinder King said, “when the city returns, they will see me for what I am.Immortal.”

Such freezing cold, it made his heart shudder.

“I will flay those who betrayed me,” the Cinder King whispered. “None will ever stand against me again. Not while I wield the beautiful sword of the offworlder. I will unify everyone. A single, glorious city, ruled by one man.”

Zellion felt that chill growing, and everything becoming as frost. And yet…

He hadn’t made an oath to protect those people.

But he’dpromisedAuxiliary. In the moment, that word was far,farstronger. Zellion dug deep inside and found a spark that—long ago—had driven him to take to the skies.

It wasn’t redemption, but it might have been remembrance. Auxiliary had told him to go on. And storm it, he would.

He grabbed the Cinder King’s wrists, whispering, “Bold one on the threshold of death, give me your heat, that it may bless those who still deserve it.”

“A prayer to the dead?” the man said with a chuckle.

“No,” Zellion said. “To thedying.”

He met the man’s eyes.

Then pulled the heat from him.

The Cinder King gasped, trying to yank free. Sunlight brokenearby, and Zellion could hear the coming flames. Plants writhed around them before starting to brown.

“Stop!” the Cinder King said.

Heat flooded Zellion as he, now a child of Canticle—but Tormented with the strange ability to feed on Investiture—claimed this man’s power in a rush. The Cinder King had been gathering it for so long, taking the heat from others without fear of retribution, that it had built up inside of him. Making his eyes glow. Burdening his soul with the belief that because he could take whatever he wanted, he was great.

“STOP!” the man screamed, eyes wide.

“You know the problem,” Zellion said, “with ruling by tyranny? There’s always someonestronger.”

The Cinder King struggled frantically, but the glow inside him went out. His eyes became normal, just a common dull hazel. The cinderheart at his chest dimmed, and Zellion found himselfburstingwith energy.

He missed deeply the opportunity to hear Auxiliary’s voice telling him one final time his current Investiture threshold. But he didn’t need it. One hundred percent Skip capacity achieved, and likely exceeded.

“Enjoy your first sunrise,” Zellion whispered. “It will be the best one you see in your entire life.”

Light and fire washed over them, and the Charred ex-king burst into flame, his skin shriveling and becoming ash, his very eyes hissing steam and bursting.

In that moment, Zellion activated his Torment, using the huge store of power the Cinder King had prepared for him. Skipping away from the planet, out into the cosmere.

Continuing his journey.

Elegy dropped fromthe ship and ran across the dark, muddy ground. Rebeke followed more reservedly, steering a small hover-platform. Only one rotation, and already she was acting with so much decorum, one might think she’d been born to leadership.

They found the sunken pit the scouts had reported. A large hole in the ground, with several feet of mud at the bottom. Within it, waving excitedly, were the people of Beacon. Some waded in the mud, while the young had been placed on top of the powerless ships.

They’d survived. An entire half rotation in the sun, and they’dsurvived. Elegy stood there, grinning, practicing her normal emotions—then leaped to Rebeke’s platform as it descended. She got her sister muddy, but who cared? Mud happened all the time.

The Beaconites got out of the way of the engine on the bottom of the platform, which sent pungent steam up from boiling mud as it landed. Several other ships lowered ropes for the stronger to climb, but this platform was for the elderly.

Three women were soon helped up. Muddy, exhausted, the Greater Good had withstood their ordeal. They looked to Rebeke, who had found a dress she could wear that was cut low to reveal her cinderheart and scarred skin.

Compassion understood first. “Sunlit…Woman?”

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