Mistborn #03 The Hero of Ages

get Ruin to play his hand or spring any hidden traps he had waiting for her.
    It was incredibly risky, but she could feel that she didn't have much time. Ruin would win soon—very soon—unless she did something. And, this was all she could think of to do. But, how could she make it happen without explaining it to Elend? She couldn't speak of the plan, lest she reveal to Ruin what she was doing.
    She looked up at Elend, a man she seemed to know better than herself. He hadn't needed to tell her that he'd reconciled the two halves of himself, she'd simply been able to tell it from looking at him. With a person like that, did she even really need to speak her plans? Perhaps . . . "Elend," she said, "I think there's only one way to save this city."
    "And that is?" he said slowly.
    "I have to go get it ."
    Elend frowned, then opened his mouth. She looked into his eyes, hoping. He paused.
    "The . . . atium?" he guessed.
    Vin smiled. "Yes. Ruin knows that we have it. He'll find it even if we don't use it. But, if we bring it here, at least we can fight."
    "It would be safer here anyway," Elend said slowly, eyes confused, but trusting her. "I'd rather have an army between those riches and our enemies. Perhaps we could use it to bribe some local warlords to help us."
    It seemed a flimsy ruse to her. And yet, she knew that was because she could see Elend's confusion, could read his lies in his eyes. She understood him, as he understood her. It was an understanding that required love.
    And she suspected that was something that Ruin would never be able to comprehend.
    "I need to leave, then," she said, embracing him tightly, closing her eyes.
    "I know."
    She held him close for a few moments longer, feeling the ash fall around her, blow against her skin and cheek. Feeling Elend's heart beat beneath her ear. She leaned up and kissed him. Finally, she pulled back, then checked her metals. She met his eyes, and he nodded, so she jumped down into the city to gather some horseshoes.
    A few moments later, she was shooting through the ashy air toward Luthadel, a maelstrom of metal around her. Elend stood silently behind, on the rock ledge, watching her go.
    Now, she thought to Ruin, who she knew was watching her carefully, even though he hadn't revealed himself since she'd drawn upon the mists. Let's have a chase, you and I.

When the Lord Ruler offered his plan to his Feruchemist friends—the plan to change them into mistwraiths—he was making them speak on behalf of all the land's Feruchemists. Though he changed his friends into kandra to restore their minds and memories, the rest he left as nonsentient mistwraiths. These bred more of their kind, living and dying, becoming a race unto themselves. From these children of the original mistwraiths, he made the next generations of kandra.
    However, even gods can make mistakes, I have learned. Rashek, the Lord Ruler, thought to transform all of the living Feruchemists into mistwraiths. However, he did not think of the genetic heritage left in the other Terris people, whom he left alive. So it was that Feruchemists continued being born, if only rarely.
    This oversight cost him much, but gained the world so much more.
    68
    SAZED WALKED IN WONDER, led by his guards. He saw kandra after kandra, each one with a more interesting body than the one before. Some were tall and willowy, with bones made of white wood. Others were stocky, with bones thicker than any human's. All stuck generally to human body shapes, however.
    They used to be human, he reminded himself. Or, at least, their ancestors were.
    The caverns around him felt old. The pathways were worn smooth, and while there were no real "buildings," he passed many smaller caverns, varied drapery hanging in front of their openings. There was a sense of exquisite craftsmanship to it all, from the carved poles that held the fungus lights, to the very bones of the people around him. It wasn't the detailed ornamentation of a nobleman's keep, for there were no patterns, leaves, or knots carved into the stonework or bones. Instead, things were polished smooth, carved with rounded sides, or woven in broad lines and shapes.
    The kandra seemed afraid of him. It was a strange experience for Sazed. He had been many things in his life: rebel, servant, friend, scholar. However, never before had he found himself an object of fear. Kandra ducked around corners, peeking at him. Others stood in shock, watching him pass. Obviously, news of his arrival had