Mistborn: secret history

4

Kelsier was nowhere in particular when God finally died.

He couldn’t place the location. No town nearby, at least not one that hadn’t been buried in ash. He had

intended to head toward Luthadel, but with all the landmarks covered over – and with no sun to guide

him – he wasn’t certain he’d been going the right direction.

The land trembled, the misty ground quivering. Kelsier pulled up short, looking at the sky, at first

expecting that Ruin was causing this tremor.

Then he felt it. Perhaps it was the small Connection he had to Preservation from his time at the Well of

Ascension. Or maybe it was the piece inside him that the god had placed, the piece inside them all. The

light of the soul.

Whatever the reason, Kelsier felt the end like a long, drawn-out sigh. It sent a chill up his spine, and he

scrambled to find a thread of Preservation. They had been all over the ground earlier in his trip, but now

he found nothing.

“Fuzz!” he screamed. “Preservation!”

Kelsier… The voice vibrated through him. Goodbye.

“Hell, Fuzz,” Kelsier said, searching the sky. “I’m sorry. I…” He swallowed.

Odd, the voice said. After all these years appearing for others as they died, I never expected… that my

own passing would be so cold and lonely….

“I’m here for you,” Kelsier said.

No. You weren’t. Kelsier, he’s splitting my power. He’s breaking it apart. It will be gone… Splintered….

He’ll destroy it.

“Like hell he will,” Kelsier said, dropping his pack. He reached inside, gripping the glowing orb filled with

liquid.

It’s not for you, Kelsier, Preservation said. It’s not yours. It belongs to another.

“I’ll get it to her,” Kelsier said, taking up the sphere. He drew in a deep breath, then used Nazh’s knife to

smash the orb, spraying his arm and body with the glowing liquid.

Lines like threads burst out from him. Glowing, effulgent. Like the lines from burning steel or iron, except

they pointed at everything.

Kelsier! Preservation said, his voice strengthening. Do better than you have before! They called you their

god, and you were casual with their faith! The hearts of men are NOT YOUR TOYS.

“I…” Kelsier licked his lips. “I understand. My lord.”

Do better, Kelsier, Preservation commanded, his voice fading. If the end comes, get them below ground. It

might help. And remember… remember what I told you, so long ago…. Do what I cannot, Kelsier….

SURVIVE.

The word vibrated through him, and Kelsier gasped. He knew that feeling, remembered that exact

command. He’d heard that voice in the Pits. Waking him, driving him forward.

Saving him.

Kelsier bowed his head as he felt Preservation fade, finally, and stretch into the darkness.

---

Then, full of borrowed light, Kelsier seized the threads spinning around him and Pulled. The power

resisted. He didn’t know why – he had only a rudimentary understanding of what he was doing. Why did

the power attune to some people and not others?

Well, he’d Pulled on stubborn anchors before. He yanked with all his might, drawing the power toward

him. It struggled, defying him almost like it was alive… until…

It broke, flooding into him.

And Kelsier, the Survivor of Death, Ascended.

With a cry of exultation, he felt the power flow through him, like Allomancy a hundred times over. A

feverish, molten, burning energy that washed through his soul. He laughed, rising into the air, expanding,

becoming everywhere and everything.