The Bands of Mourning: A Mistborn Novel (The Mistborn Saga Book 6)

“I just had my long-held assumptions about someone shattered in a brief moment. I’m wondering if every person I pass has similar depths, and if there’s any way to avoid the mistake of judging them so shallowly that I’m rocked when they show their true complexity.

It was unnerving, and it was such a waste! If you had to shoot a man, society had already failed.

“You can’t just say ‘don’t be offended’ and then say something offensive, man! That’s not how it works.”

’Cuz in my experience, marryin’ is the one thing people seem to get worse at the more they do it. Well, that and bein’ alive.”

It bore a little flag, crossed with an X. The symbol for parley.

Tales of men with red eyes who visited in the night. She added the stories to her files of research about Trell, the ancient god that people were somehow worshipping again. A god that had crafted spikes to corrupt the kandra Paalm, and whose name was on the lips of many of the prisoners.

Holding your brain hostage against your own stupidity—that was how to get stuff done.