You should read Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson, someone tells you. You pick up the first book. You quite like Kelsier.
Although Vin is badass, you wish there were more female characters. Just wait until Wax and Wayne, your friend tells you. You do not know what that means.
Your friend tells you to keep an eye out for a guy named Hoid. You do. You do not see what’s so notable about him, but you remember the name.
You progress to the second book. You miss Kelsier. Why is Elend so naive? You rant.
You are worried about Marsh.
You start the third book. You do not understand anything. Your friend keeps talking about shards. Shards of what, you ask? They do not answer. No one answers you. You are alone, with far too many questions and no answers, just like Marsh.
You root for Spook.
You are concerned about Spook.
“When I said I missed Kelsier, this isn’t what I wanted!” you cry out to the void.
Your friend tells you to pay attention to Demoux’s physical description. You do, and then you promptly forget it.
You are bothered when Vin flees Fadrex on a recon mission. You do not understand. You find no answers the further you read.
Just thirty more pages, you tell yourself. Your favorite characters can make it thirty more pages.
“What’s wrong?” your friend asks when you call them sobbing. “I finished Mistborn,” you say. “Oh,” they say, “I’m so sorry.”
Your friend tells you to read Warbreaker. You like the world of Mistborn. You don’t want to read a completely different series. You want more Mistborn.
Your friend smiles. You read Warbreaker.
You do not understand. Why is Hoid here?
It is time, your friend says ominously, for you to read Stormlight Archive.
You have many questions. Some of these are answered. Many are not, and you gain new questions. You fall in love with Jasnah Kholin.
You find the Coppermind. This does not clarify anything. The more answers you find the more questions you have.
Your friend laughs at your plight. You have no true friends anymore. Only an endless supply of questions.
You read Mistborn Era 2. You have very strong opinions about Wayne. You worship MeLaan as a true goddess in her own right. You are concerned about Sazed.
You finish Bands of Mourning. You scream into the void. I fell for it once already, you tell yourself, I will not fall for it again. Kelsier isn’t really back. Right?
Cackling, eyes brimming with the fires of inner madness, your friend hands you a duct-taped tome. On the cover, etched in faded silver ink that has seen the rise and fall of empires, you can just make out the words “Arcanum Unbounded.”
There are mysterious stains on many pages indicating that your friend either performed satanic blood rituals over the book or stayed up late reading it while eating spaghetti with red sauce. Either is likely, and you do not know which scares you more.
You stare numbly at the wall. School does not move you and neither does work.
You are scared. You are scared of what you do not understand, which is more than ever. You are scared of Kelsier. You are scared of the mysterious gray people (don’t bother with Elantris, your friend told you once). And most importantly you are scared of Hoid.
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