Mistborn #03 The Hero of Ages

and predicaments, upheavals and riots, that anything occurring on the outside must have seemed trivial.
    So trivial, in fact, that it was even possible to ignore the prophecies of one's own religion as they started to come true. Eventually, the room was empty, and a pair of beefy members of the Fifth Generation pushed the doors closed from outside, leaving Sazed alone on the floor of the room. He waited patiently, arranging his notes on his desk as the members of the First Generation hobbled out of their hidden stairwells and joined him on the floor of the Trustwarren.
    "Tell me, Keeper," Haddek said as his brothers seated themselves, "what do you make of this event?"
    "The departure of the mists?" Sazed asked. "It does seem portentous—though, admittedly, I cannot give a specific reason why."
    "That is because there are things we have not yet explained to you," Haddek said, looking toward the others. They seemed very troubled. "Things relating to the First Contract, and the promises of the kandra."
    Sazed readied a sheet of metal paper. "Please, continue."
    "I must ask that you not record these words," Haddek said.
    Sazed paused, then set down his pen. "Very well—though I warn you. The memory of a Keeper, even without his metalminds, is very long."
    "That cannot be helped," said one of the others. "We need your counsel, Keeper. As an outsider."
    "As a son," another whispered.
    "When the Father made us," Haddek said. "He . . . gave us a charge. Something different from the First Contract."
    "To him, it was almost an afterthought," one of the others added. "Though once he mentioned it, he implied it was very important."
    "He made us promise," Haddek said. "Each of us. He told us that someday, we might be required to remove our Blessings."
    "Pull them from our bodies," one of the others added.
    "Kill ourselves," Haddek said.
    The room fell silent.
    "You are certain this would kill you?" Sazed asked.
    "It would change us back to mistwraiths," Haddek said. "That is the same thing, essentially."
    "The Father said we would have to do it," another said. "There wasn't a 'might' about it. He said that we would have to make certain the other kandra knew of this charge."
    "We call it the Resolution," Haddek said. "Each kandra is told of it when he or she is first birthed. They are given the charge—sworn and ingrained—to pull their Blessing free, should the First Generation command it. We have never invoked this charge."
    "But you're considering it now?" Sazed asked, frowning. "I do not understand. Simply because of the way that the mists are acting?"
    "The mists are the body of Preservation, Keeper," Haddek said. "This is a very portentous event."
    "We have been listening to our children discuss it all morning," another said. "And it troubles us. They do not know all the mists represent, but they are aware of their importance."
    "Rashek said that we'd know," another said. "He told us. 'The day will come when you have to remove your Blessings. You'll know when it arrives.' "
    Haddek nodded. "He said that we'd know. And . . . we are very worried."
    "How can we order the deaths of all of our people?" another asked. "The Resolution has always bothered me."
    "Rashek saw the future," Haddek said, turning. "He held the power of Preservation and wielded it. He is the only man ever to have done so! Even this girl of whom the Keeper speaks did not use the power. Only Rashek! The Father."
    "Where, then, are the mists?" another asked.
    The room fell silent again. Sazed sat, pen held in his hand, yet not writing anything. He leaned forward. "The mists are the body of Preservation?"
    The others nodded.
    "And . . . it has disappeared?"
    Again, a nod.
    "Does this not mean, then, that Preservation has returned?"
    "That is impossible," Haddek said. "Preservation's power remains, for power cannot be destroyed. His mind, however, was all but destroyed—for this was the sacrifice he made to imprison Ruin."
    "The sliver remains," another reminded. "The shadow of self."
    "Yes," Haddek said. "But that is not Preservation, just an image—a remnant. Now that Ruin has escaped, I think we can assume that even it has been destroyed."
    "I think it is more," another began. "We could—"
    Sazed held up his hands, getting their attention. "If Preservation has not returned, then has, perhaps, someone else taken up his power to use in this fight? Is that not what your teachings say will happen? That which has been sundered must again begin to find its