She shivered, then looked down at the sphere beneath her hand. She was dangerously close to falling into Shadesmar completely, and could barely see the impressions of the physical realm around her. Only those beads. She felt as if she would tumble into their sea at any moment.

“Please,” Shallan said to the sphere. “I need you to become fire.”

Pattern buzzed, speaking with a new voice, interpreting the sphere’s words. “I am a stick,” he said. He sounded satisfied.

“You could be fire,” Shallan said.

“I am a stick.”

The stick was not particularly eloquent. She supposed that she shouldn’t be surprised.

“Why don’t you become fire instead?”

“I am a stick.”

“How do I make it change?” Shallan asked of Pattern.

“Mm . . . I do not know. You must persuade it. Offer it truths, I think?” He sounded agitated. “This place is dangerous for you. For us. Please. Speed.”

She looked back at the stick.

“You want to burn.”

“I am a stick.”

“Think how much fun it would be?”

“I am a stick.”

“Stormlight,” Shallan said. “You could have it! All that I’m holding.”

A pause. Finally, “I am a stick.”

“Sticks need Stormlight. For . . . things . . .” Shallan blinked away tears of fatigue.

“I am—”

“—a stick,” Shallan said. She gripped the sphere, feeling both it and the stick in the physical realm, trying to think through another argument. For a moment, she hadn’t felt quite so tired, but it was returning—crashing back upon her. Why . . .

Her Stormlight was running out.

It was gone in a moment, drained from her, and she exhaled, slipping into Shadesmar with a sigh, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.

She fell into the sea of spheres. That awful blackness, millions of moving bits, consuming her.

She threw herself from Shadesmar.

Words of Radiance Chapter 12