Author's note: The following short story is not actually something I made up. Rather, it was the most complex dream I've ever had, as well as they only dream in which I have played a legitimately evil character. On waking, I just had to write the crazy thing down. It is a crossover of so many fictional universes it might make you dizzy, but it all comes together in a way that actually works. In this dream, the specific details of Investiture, the Shards, etc don't exactly match up with Sanderson's, but have been recombined in some pretty wild ways. Still, I hope you enjoy.
I stride confidently through the dark tunnels of Angband, thrilling that my centuries-old struggle finally nears a triumphant end. In my youth, I discovered my potential to become a Voidbinder, and over the centuries many Voidspren came to me, hoping for me to bond to them. But I repeatedly refused to bond any Spren that differs from my own personality in any key respect.
Of half-elven descent, I can naturally expect a lifespan measured in centuries, not decades. But that is still far too little. I decided long ago that I deserve nothing less than eternity. There are ways to slow aging, and ways to generate youth, but neither of those options will be enough if I die in battle. No, the only immortality that can repeatedly undo violent death is Fusing. But the usual cost of that transformation is too high. I have always known the only way to gain what I desire is to earn the profound favor of Morgoth himself. And how does one impress a being so powerful, a being that represents the darkest fragment of fallen Adolnalsium? I determined I would achieve something no one has ever managed, hold a power never before seized, not in all the thousand centuries since The Shattering.
I come upon the final archway of this subterranean corridor. The heights of the imposing opening are barely visible in the gloom, built to accommodate the passage of Gothmog the Unmade. My path is now blocked by a very powerful guard, and I am challenged for the tenth time since entering Angband. "State your purpose, interloper," growls the hulking Mistborn who guards this final entrance. He wears War Form, with its powerful build and natural carapace armor, and he hefts an oversized mithril poleaxe menacingly.
"I answer the call of Odium's High Priestess," I announce grandly. "On the day of her most recent death, she declared that she would accept no host body except one of truly unique power. Her servants acquired that host at great cost, extracting it from the clutches of Ruin's Inquisitors. But your Priestess does not have the strength to take possession, not of a vessel so powerful. I offer her a means to do so."
My Heightened senses detect the door guard's use of enhanced Allomancy, likely performing detailed Malatium readings with the greater control offered by Duralumin. Eventually, he has seen enough, and he grudgingly steps aside.
Within the vast chamber beyond, grimly lit by countless Voidlight-infused gemstones, I behold the object of my hope. In the center of this cavernous Inner Sanctum, a gagged and bound young woman lies on the Altar. A glowing ethereal being hovers above, in vaguely humanoid form, radiating sickly purple Voidlight. It is she I must impress, but the pathway to success will likely bring terrible danger. Multiple Fused, all in Storm Form and wearing Mithril plate armor, form a wide loose circle around the Altar. If things go badly, I will need to survive their attacks long enough to complete my work.
Become as my muscles and strengthen me.
That command, mentally directed at my ornate clothing, draws forth dozens of my Biochromatic Breaths, though I barely feel such a trivial drop in power. Ordinarily, Awakening requires the command be spoken aloud, but I possess the requisite power to convey such orders silently. I sense that my red undershirt, not visible to anyone in the room, bleeds to gray, the color being consumed as Breaths flow into all of my fine garments.
The fabric Awakens. This requires Color, Breath, and Command. Those conditions met, the threads of my layered garments now begin to flex and shift like muscle fibers. Ready to react to my every move, enhancing my strength and speed. I take note of the molten Balrogs standing watch at the far corners of the room. Encountering even one of those monsters at Angband's entrance was intimidating enough. The Maia had challenged my right to enter, and I would have been forced to flee if it had chosen violence. If all of these brooding, towering Balrogs receive a kill order from the Priestess, even my considerable powers will not save me. The road back to the surface is many leagues.
Crossing the grinding ice of the Helcarax to reach the island of Braize had presented a dangerous challenge. Gaining entrance to Angband had been another. But I now face my greatest risk of death by far.
Here comes the culmination of more than fifteen centuries of preparation...
"Who comes before the High Priestess of Odium?" the ethereal form asks, her voice commanding and full of threat.
"I am a humble servant of your Master, and I come in answer to your call."
"You believe you can succeed where others have failed? You believe you can break the will of the Daughter of the Chosen One, granting me access to the host body I so deeply desire?"
"I can. And I will."
"What reward will you expect should you succeed?" she asks, her voice full of skepticism, but with a hint of hope as well.
"I require immortality."
The hovering figure chuckles. "Is that all?"
"No," I say with confidence that must seem foolish. "I shall require immortality on my terms."
"Explain," the glowing Priestess commands.
"I will not be bonded to a random Spren, or even one of your choosing. I will accept nothing less than a Spren so close to my own personality that the Fusing will produce minimal change to my mind. My will, heart, and desires must remain as they are now. Therefore, as reward for my unique services, you shall personally beseech your Master, the Great Lord of the Dark, Vala of Hatred, Beloved Savior of the Dark Mother. At your bequest, He shall parade before me every unbonded Voidspren on Cosmere. I shall search their hearts and feelings, until I find the perfect match. Only then shall I be bonded and Fused."
"You think very highly of yourself, Mortal."
"Mortal for not much longer."
Dark, scathing laughter echoes through the chamber. I also hear the rumbling scorn of the mighty Balrogs, but I refuse to falter.
"Very well," the High Priestess declares. "If you are able to give me the chance I desire, I shall see to your demands. But be warned: If you fail, if you built up my hopes in vain, I shall bring in the Grand Traitor of the Black Ajah. She will impose upon you the Shaod, the worst fate on all of Cosmere. That Living Death, where no wound can heal and no pain can ever fade, shall be your eternal reward. You shall have immortality, but of the worst kind. We shall forbid the Black Aes Seddai ever venturing forth from this fortress, so there shall be no chance of the Red Ajah forcing her to recant and break your curse. Eternal agony shall be yours."
"I accept your terms," I say without hesitation, though in truth this thought is utterly terrifying. Unwilling to gain immortality at the cost of my personality, the thought of a fate so much worse nearly breaks my resolve. Only my supreme confidence in my powers and abilities gives me the courage to continue.
"Proceed," the Priestess commands.
I step up to the Altar, and the bound and gagged young woman locks fierce eyes on me. "Princess Leia Organa, Daughter of the Chosen One, survivor of a destroyed world. In all the thousand centuries since The Shattering, she is only the fourth Sliver of Infinity to ever exist." I look up at the High Priestess. "Your forces snatched her from Ruin's hand so that she might be your new host body… but she is far too strong for you."
Grimly, the Priestess nods. "The Greatest of Vessels will not be easily taken. Ruin's Inquisitors could not break her, and neither can I."
"That's why I'm here." I look back down into the eyes of the young woman on the Altar. "The body is what you need, but the person is too strong. I shall remove that obstacle. But first, I require a room entirely surrounded by plates of aluminum."
"Why in Morgoth's name do you require such extravagance?" the Priestess demands, surging visibly with annoyance. Allomantically inert, and able to interfere with many other forms of Investiture as well, aluminum is worth ten times its weight in gold.
"My method of granting your request will temporarily create an opportunity for enemy Valar to intervene. Leia must be surrounded by aluminum throughout the entire process in order to eliminate that risk."
My mysterious and unusual demands seem to have piqued her curiosity, and the Priestess issues the orders. An uncomfortable hour passes under the scrutiny of so many dangerous beings. But at last, hastily erected scaffolding supports huge plates of aluminum. These have been assembled into a small room, utterly dwarfed by the chamber in which it was built. The bound Princess lies on the metal floor of this ostentatiously expensive room, and I kneel at her side. The High Priestess hovers nearby, and the Storm Form guards line the walls of the aluminum chamber.
"Excellent," I declare. "I can now begin."
With speed and strength enhanced by my Awakened clothing, I draw the broad-bladed sword from my golden belt, drive it through Leia's heart, and twist.
An unholy shriek assaults my senses as the High Priestess watches her coveted prize die.
Half a second later I am fighting for my life. The Storm Forms leap toward me, ceremonial mithril blades striking viciously, and for several seconds I only survive by virtue of my Awakened Clothing. But then I show more of my true power with the command: "Stiffen as stone; permit no movement."
I feel my gray undershirt bleed fully to white, and thousands of Breaths leave me. They flow through the air, shimmering with prismatic light, and enter the armor of my attackers. Instantly, my assailants grind to a halt, as their mithril plate armor stiffens, the joints locking up completely.
"Please stay your wrath, High Priestess," I say calmly. "I have more work to do before your Vessel is ready for you."
"You... you Awakened metal," the Priestess whispers. "And without even touching them… For that... you must be of the Sixth Heightening..."
I smile. If you only knew.
"With that much Breath… you can create fully sapient Biochromatic Entities. Is that your solution? Have you created a uniquely powerful living tool capable of restoring the damaged flesh of a corpse?"
"I need no such tricks. I have my own means of fixing your broken toy."
"I see the need for this aluminum shielding," the Priestess muses, casting her gaze about the small room. "It would not do for Nessa and Nienna to Return the dead Princess, whisking away her former body. But how will you repair the damage? With her heart destroyed, I would be unable to draw in Voidlight and repair the body, even if I were inclined to take possession of a corpse. I would soon be forced out, in need of yet another host, and with no possibility of gaining the one I desire. What is your solution, Awakener of the Sixth Heightening?"
I smile yet again, my confidence surging. "Your Breath to mine," I say. The Biochroma I had placed in the armor of the guards returns to me, shimmering brilliantly. Able to move again, the deeply annoyed soldiers return to their earlier posts, but they do not sheath their weapons. I kneel next to Leia's body, extracting my sword and using it to cut away her bonds and gag. I then place both hands over her ruined heart. Physical contact isn't necessary for one of my power, but I can't resist a bit of theatrics. In line with that, I utter the next command aloud: "Awaken to my Breath, serve my needs, live at my Command and at my word... Endeavor's Conclusion." That last statement is a Security Phrase that enables further commands to the entity I am creating. Uttering that phrase in the hearing of the Priestess and her guards is a show of good faith she cannot help but recognize.
More color drains from my clothing, this time from my silver silk sash, and more Breath leaves me, flowing into the corpse. Leia's eyes open, though no sign of true life can be seen. Her ruined heart does not beat, her lungs do not fill with air, and there is no true thought or sensation. But the Awakened corpse is now connected to me. It will obey me or any others who use the Security Phrase.
"A Lifeless," the Priestess says, deep disappointment filling her voice. "Foolish mortal, this changes nothing. I need an intact body, and-"
"I am still not done, my Priestess," I interrupt. I reach into a pouch in my silk sash, which is now gray instead of silver. I draw out a glowing crystal. A chip of red Kyber, taken from the remains of an ancient Sith Lord's lightsaber. Having refused to bond a Voidspren, I do not have the ability to draw Voidlight from infused Gemstones. I normally need to be in the presence of the Everstorm itself to take in Odium's Investiture. But Kyber is special. The substance from which Adolnalsium's body was made, the source of life for all Ainur. Kyber interacts uniquely with all Investiture as well as the Wild Force, to which the late Princess Leia was so strongly connected. Though not yet bonded, even I can draw Voidlight from Kyber...
Holding the red crystal and taking in a sharp breath, I draw Morgoth's power into myself. Sickly purple light now radiates from my body, and my eyes glow a hateful red. Were I injured, the Voidlight would automatically heal me. But as I command a Lifeless...
Responding to my will, Voidlight flows down my arms and into Leia's Awakened corpse. It too now glows violet, and its dead eyes shine as red as mine. Swiftly, the bloody wound in its chest closes, the ruined heart again whole, though still not beating.
"You have repaired the body," the Priestess says, "but it is still of no use to me. I am not some over-pious Istari, taking Lifeless hosts. While your Breath sustains it, I cannot take possession. You have merely replaced her resistance with your own, and you have proven that you are strong."
"Fear not," I say, looking up and locking eyes with the ethereal Priestess. "I will simply withdraw my Breath."
Total silence falls upon the cramped room. Eventually, cautiously, the Priestess says, "Breath cannot be retrieved from a Lifeless except by the Hallandren God-King, and I will not for one instant believe that you are him."
"Historically, you would be correct. But, technically, that power is not the sole province of the God-King. It is granted by the Seventh Heightening, which the God-King possesses by virtue of his single, Almighty Breath."
The silence this time feels deeper, and it lasts far longer. When she finally speaks, all of the scorn, haughtiness, and threat has left her voice. "The Seventh Heightening… For any but the God-King to achieve that power… you must hold…"
"One million Biochromatic Breaths."
Even the Fused guards can no longer hide their amazement, and they look on me with a mixture of awe and fear.
"One… million," the Priestess whispers. "Each person born in the nation of Nalthis is endowed with one Biochromatic Breath. How do you… how could you hold so many?"
"It was the work of fifteen centuries, with unwavering dedication, and absolutely no scruples."
Her curiosity, and building excitement, finally starts to counter her awe and initial disbelief. "Go on."
"I have lost count of how many fortunes I have amassed and spent, purchasing Breath from all willing to part with it. When wealth was insufficient, I abducted wealthy Awakeners, and… persuaded them to part with their accumulated Breaths for free. When my criminal empire grew strong enough, I was able to hire Invested underlings to use similar methods in other lands, and they gave me the Breaths on their return. I even contemplated a move against the Melamar Farmstead in Eriador, but deemed it unwise to anger the nearby Sith village. I am half-elven, with a natural lifespan of well over a thousand years. And as I raised through the Heightenings, my aging slowed. At one-tenth my goal, with my first hundred-thousand Breaths obtained, I achieved the Sixth Heightening, and my aging slowed to one-tenth. After fifteen hundred years of clandestine labor, I was the majority of the way to my goal, and I chose to end my quest with style. Doubtless you heard of the Returned who vanished from the Hallandren Court, along with their children?"
"And only the children were ever found, babbling about cloth monsters?"
"Yes. The Returned I abducted personally, while I sent Awakened clothing to abduct the children. I arranged it so that the clothes would dangle the children above a precipice, far from where I held my captive, but where his Heightened senses could still see them. He knew that if I were to die or otherwise lose control of those Awakened puppets, his children would fall to their deaths. So, in the end, trusting my sincerity, he performed the Final Miracle I demanded. He gave up his Divine Breath, and his life, to generate vast Biochroma… for me."
"Fascinating," the Priestess says. "I did not know that was possible."
"Very few do. It is in fact the only way for Biochromatic Breath to be generated, besides the single Breath granted to every sapient being born in Nalthis."
"So, fifteen hundred years ago, you set out to reach the Seventh Heightening. Was it in order to slow your aging to one percent?"
"That is certainly a perk, buying more time for my chance to come," I allow. "But in truth, I always knew the favor I wanted from Odium. I felt that being the first mortal to ever acquire the Seventh Heightening would one day make me uniquely useful to him. And, indeed, you put out your call. And here I stand."
The High Priestess can no longer hide her anticipation and excitement. "So, you have killed the Daughter of the Chosen One, turned her into a Lifeless, and healed her body with Voidlight. How exactly will we finish this?"
"You must take possession of the Vessel while I am withdrawing my Breath, before the Voidlight I placed in it can dissipate. That Light should help anchor you to the corpse long enough for you to restart its body functions, as your own Light will not immediately have full access."
"You have done your research, Awakener of the Seventh Heightening. I shall follow your lead."
And she does. The High Priestess shrinks down to a small concentration of dark light, hovering just above Leia's head. As I command, "Your Breath to mine," and draw my power back out of the Lifeless, the High Priestess sinks into Leia's head, imposing her will on the unresisting brain. Just as my Voidlight fades from Leia's eyes, as those eyes begin to close, still greater Voidlight erupts from Leia's body. The eyes snap back open, seething with an inferno of crimson luminance. Stretching and rising to her feet, the High Priestess of Odium now stands, in the flesh yet again, and with a host body unlike any other in the history of Cosmere.
"Such power," she whispers in what must be Leia's voice. "Her access to the Wild Force is so strong…"
"The Blood of the Chosen One now flows through your veins," I say, bowing low. The Storm Form guards do the same. "And, as you are now also a Sliver of Infinity, you far surpass even The Lord Ruler of Gondolin. Never in history has any Vala possessed an Archon such as you."
With a great blast of Voidlight, the High Priestess scatters the scaffolding outward, which in turn toss away the aluminum walls of the hastily constructed room. We again stand in the vast Inner Sanctum of Angband. In a single bound, she springs upon the Alter and turns to face me. The Balrogs at the far corners of the room all drop to one knee, acknowledging Odium's mortal Archon. Barely mortal, I think. And soon, once I have chosen the perfect Voidspren, it shall be similar with me. Aging at only one percent, my lifespan will be measured in tens of millennia. But as a Fused, when this body finally wears out, I will live on, inseparably bound to my Spren. I will simply choose a new host body. Who knows? Perhaps by then, another descendent of the Chosen One will have been captured, and I too can wear a body from Anakin's line.
The chamber rumbles, and a towering, nightmarish figure enters from the distant archway. Gothmog the Unmade, Lord of Balrogs, Splinter of Odium and mightiest of Maiar, crosses the chamber in three vast strides. He stoops down, holding out three brilliant, glowing kyber crystals. His molten form chars the flesh of the High Priestess as she takes the crystals from him, but her overflowing Voidlight swiftly repairs the damage. "I have taken my newest host, the mightiest ever claimed, and I now take back my full power!"
The Storm Form guards prostrate themselves, fully prone, and all five Balrogs in the chamber begin a rumbling, terrible chant. The Priestess swallows the three small but surging kyber crystals, which I know to be the legendary Silmarils. Their light shines through her flesh as she takes them into her body, her throat stretching, tearing, and healing as the crystals pass by. Once they are settled deep within her, she transforms. Her Voidlight increases ten-fold, fully illuminating the vast chamber, and I know that now she alone of all Voidbinders has access to all ten Surges. Even Gothmog takes a step back, while the Storm Forms and I swiftly retreat toward the distant walls. The High Priestess grows to tremendous size, greater than most of the Balrogs present, so that only Gothmog is taller than she. In the unique Empress Form, the High Priestess is a shocking sight to behold. Barely recognizable as Leia, she is beautiful and terrible as the vastness of space. Then, her towering form grows horrific, as her overwhelming Voidlight crystallizes. She now wears the unique and mighty armor known as Voidplate, which no other being can summon. Seconds later, in a burst of dark fire, a massive ridged mace materializes in her hand: Grond, Hammer of the Underworld, lethal as a Shardblade, but large enough to shatter a fortress wall.
Despite all my preparation, despite my great power, it is a terrifying thing to stand in the presence of the Lord of Balrogs and the Archon of Odium, whom I have just helped to become far stronger than her predecessors. Chosen of Morgoth, bonded to the Silmarils, and now flowing with the Blood of the Chosen One.
In a voice proud and mighty and terrible, she addresses me. "I now have everything I need from you. I could easily deny your reward."
"But you will not," I say calmly, pouring all my willpower into keeping the fear and doubt from my voice. "Odium desires that beings come to him willingly, so he always spreads the word of promises kept. In addition, I represent the first person ever to bring the Seventh Heightening to Odium's forces."
For the briefest instant, a golden figure flashes into view on the far side of the chamber. Though only the size of a man, his glory is so great, his power so terrible, the weight of his presence so overwhelming, that both Gothmog and the High Priestess briefly seem small and feeble.
That golden light is gone in half a heartbeat, but the towering High Priestess seems shaken, her defiance extinguished. "Indeed you speak the truth, Awakener. My Master shall grant you your pick of all the unbonded Voidspren on Cosmere, and all the time you desire to make your choice. You shall join the ranks of the immortal Fused, and on your terms."
All my plans are coming to fruition, immortality is in sight, and my future promises ever greater power. You should watch yourself, High Priestess, bearer of the Silmarils, and wielder of Leia's body. One day, I may very well supplant you, and become the most favored servant of Odium.
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome. I have written out quite a few of my more interesting dreams, but this was the only time I was eeeeeviiiiiiiiil...
Also, the insane mishmash of so many universes wasn't completely random. I had been designing a heavily homebrewed RPG campaign that was deliberately a complex crossover. Specifically, it's a Star Wars RPG, but I invented a planet in the Unknown Regions called Cosmere. With a giant kyber crystal at its core, this planet is incredibly strong in the Force. Powerful Force Entities like Odium, Ruin, and Preservation grant Investiture to their followers, and lesser Force Entities are called Spren. The idea is to have all of Sanderson's Cosmere on a single, Middle-earth-like planet hidden in the Star Wars Galaxy. While the Party visits this planet, their technology doesn't function, but they all have random Investiture.
All of that said, it was still kinda bonkers that I had a dream this detailed, especially using all of these ideas in a complex, evil way that I had most certainly never planned.
If all of this crossover wackiness deeply interests you, the version of the story published on Archive of Our Own (under the same penname) has links at the end to some relevant files.
If you were really intrigued by the mixing of worlds in concepts, you might find the info in those files, entertaining. But be warned, actually running a homebrewed campaign this complex is hard, and requires players who are seriously committed to the story and each other.