Kal- Living Plate

Lirin hung in the air, his eyes squeezed closed, trembling. He remembered falling, and the awful tempest. Darkness.
It had all vanished. Something had yanked on his arm—­slowing him carefully enough to not rip his arm off, but jarringly enough that it ached.

Stillness. In a storm. Was he dead?

He opened his eyes and searched upward to find a column of radiant light stretching hundreds of feet in the air, holding back the storm. Windspren? Thousands upon thousands of them.

Lirin dangled from the gauntleted fist of a Shardbearer in resplendent Shardplate. Armor that seemed alive as it glowed a vibrant blue at the seams, Bridge Four glyphs emblazoned across the chest.

A flying Shardbearer. Storms. It was him.

Kaladin proved it by rotating so that they were right-­side up—­then hoisting Lirin into a tight embrace. Remarkably, as Lirin touched the Plate, he couldn’t feel it. It became completely transparent—­barely visible, in fact, as a faint outline around Kaladin.

Rhythm of War Chapter 110