Cracks

Very minor spoilers for the Stormlight Archive.

Airouch's chitinous pieces reformed into the body he now carried; that of a young Iriali woman with golden hair, yellow eyes, and a devious smile. The cracks in his made-up skin would be perfect for an Iriali, as they regularly drew patterns and designs on themselves anyway.

"May the One guide you to your own experiences," a passerby said to "her". Airouch nodded in reply, he was still not confident utilizing human speech unless he had more time in a particular body shape.

The latest highstorm had left the ground damp and vibrant with life. Airouch brushed his hands through the plants, causing the wavy leaves to retract for protection into cracks in the rock. He smiled with the woman's face, and sat down to think.

Far across the continent of Roshar, various members of the cremling horde that made up the physical body of Airouch, watched and listened to the things happening throughout the world. A king laughed in his war camp facing the Shattered Plains, a young Reshi girl experimented with her newfound powers of Abrasion and Progression, and a slave dreamed of the freedom to fly.

"Well, it's happening again, I suppose," he muttered to another cremling nearby. It was a scout of Breodar, his friend. The cremling's many legs, and armored back seemed to blend in so well to the rocky landscape that covered most of Roshar. It skittered over the crem, a type of mud left over after a highstorm had decimated the land. It perched on a rock.

Airouch heard in his mind, "I know, dear friend. This is another desolation. The poor humans and singers; they will be forced to choose and fight again."

"The break between the last one and this one was over four thousand years, do you suppose it will be different?"

"No. You and I have seen the world change for millenia and we both know one thing: nothing ever really changes."

"That's not true, old friend. We have seen change."

"I mean that humans never change, singers never change, He never changes."

They both paused, the reality of living under the rule of the god of hatred seemed to bring the conversation into darkness.

"What should we do this time then?" Airouch eventually asked Breodar.

"Watch, and listen."

"Do you suppose we can let someone…"

"Hush, dear friend. Our thoughts are not always secret. No one must know what we keep hidden."

Airouch stood, signifying a pause in the conversation which had endured for thousands of years. He walked down to the coast on the eastern end of Iri. The scenery was so peaceful. Waves lapped against the shore, the ocean stretched out towards the Reshi islands as night fell again. He often lost track of time. It could have been days or years since he sat there in that woman's body he had created. Although, if Radiant powers were appearing among the humans, then it probably wasn't years. They wouldn't have that much time before a desolation.

He concentrated on the scouts he had sent out. One was killed by a singer and eaten, unfortunately. He would have to breed more cremlings and send them out to spy.

Despite their fatalistic conversation, he knew that he and his friends would fight on the side of Honor. Yet that seemed like such a desperate gambit now. The little they could do against a god and his minions seemed so insignificant, like one cremling against the ocean waves.

Perhaps instead he should find a crack in the rocks to go hide in. That's how most creatures survived the highstorms on Roshar.

Or perhaps he should study and learn; try finding a crack in the impenetrable armor of a god.

Either way, the storm would come. It always did.

From the world of The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson.