Prologue:

The next champion

Fleet, of the storm, ran. He had noticed a pattern in his running. It was always left, right, left, right. A continuous rhythm throughout the world. The storms, The mountains, and Fleet. He was warming up for his next race. The question---who was Fleet going to race next?---buzzed around the crowd. They were anxious. A highstorm had been predicted for today. Some shuffled, some hadn’t even showed up. They were right not too. Fleet didn't expect anyone to be able to watch this race. Who was going to race him on this dreadful day? Fleet finished his practice run and looked up at the ground. Then he whispered to himself.

“I'm going to race nature, I'm going to race the stormfather.”

By now the crowd had dissipated. All but a few who watched from a nearby safehouse. They were scared. They had a right to be. Fleet wasn't, he knew he could win, despite what others would have said, had he told them. A nobleman who must have presumed himself a hero rushed out to meet him.

“Storms! Man what are you doing!?”

“I'm going to race the storm.”

He actually laughed, but one steely look from Fleet drove the unspoken question off. No he was not crazy. The man jogged back and Fleet looked toward the storm. It loomed over him. It’s stormwall threatening his entire existence. He was ready.

Part one:

Fleets Start

Fleet began his run just barely ahead of the storm. He didn't want to get too close to the mass murderer. In fact he should be in a shelter. Was he stupid or brave? What's the difference? He tried starting at a jog, but the storm caught up. It took him a sprint, Fleet at his full speed to stay barely ahead of the force of nature. In the distance he saw the mountain. King of the earth standing high embarrassing the storm with its defiance. That mountain could stand against a storm l. It was nature. He was mature too. Fleet had mapped this track a hundred times before. Over both mountains. He had always had to jog the start. Fleet ground his teeth together. He was stubborn, hopefully the mountain would appreciate that. He found himself slowing at the hill. His leg muscles began working extra hard to keep up his slowed pace. He gasped. His ribs smarted with every step. It was as if the universe itself bowed to the storm. And the storm, wanted to win. But the mountain, the mountain stood firm even when the universe bowed. And fleet would beat the storm. Wind was biting into his skin. His legs were throbbing, bleeding everywhere. He reached the top. Then he started downward.

Part two:

Fleets Flight

His legs burned. That's all he could think about. Blood left a trail behind him. He bounded on, it was a down-hill suicide mission. He was far ahead of the storm now. If he could just keep his speed. He tripped. It was impossible not to at this speed. He was just going to fast. Never had that occurred to him. He flew into the air twisting as he did. Images swirled around him. They have off a bright blue and they looked almost blurry next to the stormwall. A man jutted out. His legs were torn up and he carried a regal looking man on his back. They didn't look so good. Then the image changed. It was the same man. He had long black hair and a blue coat. A bright blue spear formed in his hands. He was...smiling? More images flashed. A girl with bright red hair and a sketch pad. A boy. Sobbing on his knees while a shardbearer stood behind him close to tears in an offensive position. A man embracing his destiny standing in a cloud of red. A blonde shardbearer cutting the legs off a thundeclast. A girl paralyzed hugging her mentor as they laid on the floor. A shin man serving a man he had once tried to kill. A girl sliding around on the floor vines trailing behind her as she ate pancakes in an orphanage. A man igniting a revolution from a backhanded slap. A girl with short black hair demolishing an army to save the man she loves. A boy. No, a man in bright white during for his people. A scholar losing all hope, yet finding the truth. A dog forsaking his life and helping those he need him. A man with iron eyes ripping out an earring. A boy standing blindfolded rushing into a burning building. A crew standing together only one of them smiling. A boy standing in the rain, in robes with a single piece of metal. A girl being shot dead, twice. A man switching hats between coachman. Two girls protecting each other, one with guns the other with logic. A God disappearing. A girl saving the soul of an emperor. A princess handing out food to a town. Two men building a life in the harshest of environments. A woman with a silver dagger protecting her home. A man with two birds crouched in a jungle. And Fleet, falling before a storm he crashed but shook it off rubbing his scrapes. He had new scars, but who didn't, and he was more determined than ever. He restarted his race up the second mountain, storm biting his heels.

Part three:

Fleet and Hoid

         Fleet arrived. He had done it. But he was fading. That didn't matter. He found himself with a man, writing. He looked up and smiled.

        “Congrats Fleet” he spoke call me Hoid”

          The notebook and paper stood exactly where he had left them. He knelt down ignoring Hoid. With one quick sigh, he wrote two sentences that he hoped would change the world.

“I am Fleet, and I raced the storm. Everyone dies, it only matters how well you ran.”

 Houd wrote his last two sentences in his notebook. Gave a sigh, then put a hand on Fleets laid back shoulder. Goodbye, and run in the afterlife. And Fleet slowly drifted off remembering the ones he had saw, and more. Men during, men living. He smiled he smiled because you couldn't kill hope.

Epilogue:

Dalinar and dawnchant

  Dalinar finished reading and smiled. It felt good to read. Not to have others do it for you. He put the book down and stood stretching. Navani lay curled up beside him. The text had been in translated dawnchant. Oh the people this would affect.

           “he smiled” dalinar recited “because you cannot kill hope”