While rain and thunder raged above Lost Creek Hollow, Kelsier dreamed vividly.
He dreamed of Willowspire. A beautiful place; cliffside, year-round greenery, endless spiraling paths round the cliffs they clung to like goats. They'd joked about it often.
In his dreams it was the first day again, the day he'd discovered that hidden wonder and thought it a trick of the mind. He was desperate then, after weeks spent alone and hungry and clueless. The Evergarden was closed to him forever and he did not know what to do; who would? How does one proceed after losing perfection and knowing they can never have it again? In his shame Kelsier ran for days, and walked many more, if only to put distance between himself and the place where he had brought his own disgrace.
And one day Willowspire bloomed from the fog like a miracle.
Half-delirious and half-elated he launched himself past the border markings, into thick ferns and up the path to the cliffs. The sun disappeared behind so many leaves, and the whispers of rustling foliage were everywhere. For a time he lost himself in all of it, but the path led him true and eventually a clearing opened before him. Hazy sunlight filled his vision, and then a woman in grey and black furs; her gentle blue eyes startled him so! He had never seen a woman with such a soft look about her before. She smiled at him, and —
He woke.
He dreamed of Willowspire. A beautiful place; cliffside, year-round greenery, endless spiraling paths round the cliffs they clung to like goats. They'd joked about it often.
In his dreams it was the first day again, the day he'd discovered that hidden wonder and thought it a trick of the mind. He was desperate then, after weeks spent alone and hungry and clueless. The Evergarden was closed to him forever and he did not know what to do; who would? How does one proceed after losing perfection and knowing they can never have it again? In his shame Kelsier ran for days, and walked many more, if only to put distance between himself and the place where he had brought his own disgrace.
And one day Willowspire bloomed from the fog like a miracle.
Half-delirious and half-elated he launched himself past the border markings, into thick ferns and up the path to the cliffs. The sun disappeared behind so many leaves, and the whispers of rustling foliage were everywhere. For a time he lost himself in all of it, but the path led him true and eventually a clearing opened before him. Hazy sunlight filled his vision, and then a woman in grey and black furs; her gentle blue eyes startled him so! He had never seen a woman with such a soft look about her before. She smiled at him, and —
He woke.
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