Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

hear the crack resound through the square.
    Kelsier lurched and spun, spraying blood as he fell.
    “ NO! ” Vin screamed.
    The Lord Ruler ripped one of the spears from his own body, then slammed it down through Kelsier’s chest. “Let the executions begin,” he said, turning toward his carriage and ripping out the second spear, then tossing it aside.
    Chaos followed. Prompted by the Inquisitor, the soldiers turned and attacked the crowd. Other Inquisitors appeared from the square above, riding black horses, ebony axes glistening in the afternoon light.
    Vin ignored it all. “Kelsier!” she screamed. His body lay where it had fallen, spear jutting from his chest, scarlet blood pooling around him.
    No. No. NO! She jumped from the building, Pushing against some people and throwing herself over the massacre. She landed in the center of the oddly empty square—Lord Ruler gone, Inquisitors busy killing skaa. She scrambled to Kelsier’s side.
    There was almost nothing remaining of the left side of his face. The right side, however . . . it still smiled faintly, single dead eye staring up into the red-black sky. Bits of ash fell lightly on his face.
    “Kelsier, no . . .” Vin said, tears streaming down her face. She prodded his body, feeling for a pulse. There was none.
    “You said you couldn’t be killed!” she cried. “What of your plans? What of the Eleventh Metal? What of me ?”
    He didn’t move. Vin had trouble seeing through the tears. It’s impossible. He always said we aren’t invincible . . . but that meant me. Not him. Not Kelsier. He was invincible.
    He should have been.
    Someone grabbed her and she squirmed, crying out.
    “Time to go, kid,” Ham said. He paused, looking at Kelsier, assuring for himself that the crewleader was dead.
    Then he towed her away. Vin continued to struggle weakly, but she was growing numb. In the back of her mind, she heard Reen’s voice.
    See. I told you he would leave you. I warned you. I promised you. . . .

THE END OF PART FOUR

PART FIVE

BELIEVERS IN A
FORGOTTEN WORLD

----

I know what will happen if I make the wrong choice. I must be strong; I must not take the power for myself.
For I have seen what will happen if I do.

    35

    T O WORK WITH ME , K ELSIER had said, I only ask that you promise one thing—to trust me.
    Vin hung in the mist, immobile. It flowed around her like a quiet stream. Above, ahead, to the sides, and beneath. Mist all around her.
    Trust me, Vin, he’d said. You trusted me enough to jump off the wall, and I caught you. You’re going to have to trust me this time too.
    I’ll catch you.
    I’ll catch you. . . .
    It was as if she were nowhere. Among, and of , the mist. How she envied it. It didn’t think. Didn’t worry.
    Didn’t hurt.
    I trusted you, Kelsier, she thought. I actually did—but you let me fall. You promised that your crews had no betrayals. What of this? What of your betrayal?
    She hung, her tin extinguished to let her better see the mists. They were slightly wet, cool upon her skin. Like the tears of a dead man.
    Why does it matter, anymore? she thought, staring upward. Why does anything matter? What was it you said to me, Kelsier? That I never really understood? That I still needed to learn about friendship? What about you? You didn’t even fight him.
    He stood there again, in her mind. The Lord Ruler struck him down with a disdainful blow. The Survivor had died like any other man.
    Is this why you were so hesitant to promise that you wouldn’t abandon me?
    She wished she could just . . . go. Float away. Become mist. She’d once wished for freedom—and then had assumed she’d found it. She’d been wrong. This wasn’t freedom, this grief, this hole within her.
    It was the same as before, when Reen had abandoned her. What was the difference? At least Reen had been honest. He’d always promised that he would leave. Kelsier had led her along, telling her to trust and to love, but Reen had always been the truthful one.
    “I don’t want to do this anymore,” she whispered to the mists. “Can’t you just take me?”
    The mists gave no answer. They continued to spin playfully, uncaring. Always changing—yet somehow, always the same.
    “Mistress?” called an uncertain voice from below. “Mistress, is that you up there?”
    Vin sighed, burning tin, then extinguishing steel and letting herself drop. Her mistcloak fluttered as she fell through the mists; she landed quietly on the rooftop above their safe house.