The Bands of Mourning

The Bands of Mourning Plot Summary

Introduction

# The Bands of Mourning: A Tale of Steel, Secrets, and Sacrifice The cathedral's crystal dome exploded inward like a dying star, thousands of gallons of water cascading through shattered glass onto the wedding guests below. Waxillium Ladrian grabbed his bride-to-be and steel-pushed them both away from the altar as debris rained down on Elendel's finest. The water tower's collapse was no accident—Wayne's guilty grin told that story—but the flood washing away his wedding vows was only the beginning of deeper currents pulling Wax toward a reckoning twenty years in the making. The kandra VenDell arrived before the water had finished draining, his translucent face displaying skull and spine beneath artificial flesh. He brought word that chilled Wax more than the river water soaking his formal wear. One of the immortal Faceless had gone mad, his memories torn away by violence in the southern city of New Seran. The stolen spike contained secrets about legendary artifacts—the Bands of Mourning, metalminds once worn by the Lord Ruler himself. But when VenDell showed the final photograph, Wax's resistance crumbled like the cathedral's dome. His sister Telsin stared back at him from the image, held captive between two men in a terraced city hundreds of miles from safety. Some debts could only be paid in steel and blood, and Wax's account had been overdue for far too long.

Chapter 1: The Shattered Wedding: When Duty Calls Through Flood and Chaos

Water crashed through the cathedral dome with the sound of the world ending. Wax felt the massive wooden beams groaning overhead as thousands of gallons poured through the crystal skylight, turning his wedding into a scene from a disaster novel. He grabbed Steris and steel-pushed them both away from the altar, their bodies sliding across the flooded marble as wedding guests screamed and scattered. The Survivorist priest dove behind his podium while Lord Drapen cursed about his ruined pistol. Steris sat on the dais edge afterward, her wedding dress plastered to her body, staring at the destruction with an odd smile. "Of course the wedding would fall apart," she said, water dripping from her carefully arranged hair. "Several tons of water falling through the roof? Why wouldn't I have seen that coming?" Wayne's sheepish grin gave away the real story. The water tower's collapse had been sabotage, a desperate attempt to delay a marriage his friend thought was doomed. Wax should have been furious, yet relief flooded through him stronger than any anger. The ceremony had felt like a trap closing around his throat, duty strangling the life he'd chosen in the Roughs. The kandra VenDell materialized in the aftermath like a ghost made flesh, his translucent skin revealing the skull beneath. He moved through the wreckage with inhuman grace, ignoring the insurance assessors and cleanup crews. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of centuries and the chill of recent fear. Harmony himself was distracted, perhaps compromised, and the Faceless Immortals needed help they'd never asked for before. The request came wrapped in images of ancient temples and stolen memories, but the hook that caught Wax was simpler and more personal—a photograph of his sister Telsin, alive but captive in a city that might as well have been on another world.

Chapter 2: Kandra's Quest: Ancient Relics and Missing Memories

VenDell's evanoscope cast ghostly images on the hotel wall, each picture a fragment of impossible history. Ancient symbols covered stone walls in scripts that predated human civilization, while murals depicted a figure in metallic bracers raising his arms toward a hovering spear. The Bands of Mourning weren't myth but memory, artifacts of power that had vanished with the Lord Ruler's death three centuries ago. ReLuur had found them. The ancient kandra explorer had returned to Elendel with photographs and fragments of recollection, but something had torn away part of his immortal body. Without his stolen Hemalurgic spike, his mind fractured into madness and gaps, leaving only sketches of red-faced monsters with void-black eyes and half-remembered warnings about southern strangers. "He found something in New Seran," VenDell explained, his translucent fingers tracing the creature's outline. "But the spike that holds his memories was ripped away during the attack. We need it back to restore his sanity and learn what he discovered." Marasi leaned forward, studying the drawings with a constable's eye for evidence. The spikes in the monster's eyes reminded her of Hemalurgic constructs, but this was something new, something wrong. The proportions were too twisted, the anatomy too deliberately cruel. When VenDell produced the final photograph—Telsin held between two men, one with his back turned—the investigation became personal. Wax stared at his sister's face, noting the hollow look of someone who'd endured months of captivity. She'd been missing since their uncle Edwarn's supposed death, another casualty of the Set's breeding experiments and political games. The trail led south to New Seran, a terraced city built around cascading waterfalls where ReLuur's memories had been stolen and Telsin waited for rescue or revenge.

Chapter 3: The Train Robbery: Steel Powers Stripped Away

The bandits struck at midnight, horses thundering alongside the rails like something from a dime novel. Wax found it almost insulting—real criminals stopped trains with dynamite and strategy, not theatrical horseback charges. These amateurs had uncoupled his private car, isolating him and his companions while they attacked the main passenger compartments with crude efficiency. But amateurs with Allomantic powers were still dangerous. The massive Coinshot who cornered Wax in the narrow corridor fought like a man who enjoyed breaking things, steel singing through the air as they traded pushes. Doors rattled in their frames and windows cracked under the pressure until Wax was forced through shattered glass onto the train's roof. The real shock came when a small metal cube drained his steel reserves completely. One moment he burned metal like breathing, the next his Allomantic fire was simply gone. The device worked like chromium but at a distance, technology that shouldn't exist wielded by bandits who should have been simple thieves. Steris appeared at the car's edge wielding Ranette's massive shotgun with determination and terror in equal measure. The recoil launched her backward off the train, and Wax dove after her into the churning river below. As they hung suspended above the dark water, supported by his push against the sunken weapon, one truth crystallized in his mind. The attack had been too convenient, too perfectly timed. Someone wanted them in New Seran, and they'd used his sister as bait to ensure he'd come running. The trap was already closing, but Wax had never been one to back down from a fight, especially when family was involved.

Chapter 4: New Seran's Shadows: Political Intrigue and Family Secrets

New Seran rose from the southern landscape like a fever dream of engineering and nature combined. Twelve massive stone terraces climbed toward the mountains, each split by streams that cascaded in thunderous waterfalls to the levels below. Wax carried Marasi through the morning air, steel-pushing from rooftop to rooftop while mist from the falls caught the early sunlight in rainbow arcs. The city's beauty couldn't mask its tensions. Protesters at the train station carried signs reading "END ELENDEL OPPRESSION" while local broadsheets detailed the economic stranglehold the capital maintained over outer settlements. Every good shipped between Basin towns had to pass through Elendel's taxed railways and waterways, creating resentment that simmered like water before the boil. At the Copper Gate hotel, Wax split his team for maximum coverage. While he prepared for the evening's political reception, Marasi and Wayne descended into New Seran's underworld of grave robbers and corrupt cemetery workers. The bank records revealed what Marasi had suspected—every groundskeeper and gravedigger in the city was skimming valuables from the dead, selling jewelry and fine clothing that should have rotted in peace. The political reception buzzed with outer cities elite, their conversations sharp with resentment toward Elendel's economic dominance. Lord Gave Entrone proved the evening's first challenge, a young textile merchant whose archaeological interests had caught ReLuur's attention. But Gave was too clever, deflecting questions about ancient relics with calculated insults that left Wax reaching for guns that weren't there. The breakthrough came from an unexpected source. A beggar outside the mansion pressed an ancient coin into Wax's palm, its strange metal surface bearing symbols that matched ReLuur's photographs exactly. The two-toned construction and the face pierced by a spike suggested connections to powers older than the Final Empire, artifacts that predated human civilization in the Basin.

Chapter 5: The Flying Ship: Technology Beyond Understanding

The massive wooden structure dominated the abandoned village of Dulsing like a cathedral of impossible dreams. Inside its cavernous interior sat something that defied every law of physics Wax understood—a ship the size of a city block, but built for skies rather than seas. Its hull bore damage from what must have been a catastrophic crash, one pontoon shattered and teams of engineers swarming over its surface like ants trying to heal their wounded queen. Wayne's infiltration began with his usual flair for chaos. Launched from Wax's steel-push like a human cannonball, he crashed into the compound's shadows and immediately set about creating the perfect distraction. A few severed power cables and some misdirected blame left the guards shouting at each other while the others slipped through the darkness. Inside the warehouse, the ship's true scale became apparent. Its decks stretched overhead like the floors of a skyscraper laid on its side, while strange symbols covered every surface in scripts that hurt to look at directly. This wasn't just a vessel but a repository of knowledge from somewhere beyond the known world, technology that made their own steam engines and electric lights seem primitive by comparison. The rescue attempt became a running battle through the warehouse's maze of corridors and storage areas. Set soldiers poured in from all directions, these weren't ordinary troops but trained hazekillers equipped with aluminum weapons designed specifically to kill Allomancers. Wax fought with desperate fury, his steel-pushing sending waves of bullets spinning away from his companions while Wayne healed from wound after wound using a mysterious golden bracelet they'd recovered. Salvation came from an unexpected source. A masked prisoner freed from the ship's hold spoke in an alien tongue but understood desperation in any language. As the battle reached its crescendo, he led them to a hidden compartment within the vessel's hull, a small craft that detached from the mother ship like a lifeboat. The escape defied every law of physics Wax understood, the small vessel rising into the night sky powered by Allomantic forces channeled through ancient technology.

Chapter 6: Southern Strangers: Allik's People and the Sovereign's Legacy

The masked man called himself Allik Neverfar, and his story rewrote everything they thought they knew about the world. As their small airship glided through the night sky, he spoke of lands beyond the southern mountains where five different peoples struggled to survive in a world transformed by catastrophe. The Catacendre had been experienced differently in the south, bringing not salvation but a devastating ice age that nearly destroyed civilization. The Lord Ruler had not died as the histories claimed. Instead, he had traveled south and become the Sovereign, teaching the survivors to create medallions that granted Feruchemical abilities to anyone who wore them. These artifacts—combinations of metals that stored and released various attributes—had allowed entire populations to survive in the frozen wasteland their world had become. Allik's people had spent generations perfecting this technology, creating flying ships powered by Allomantic forces and medallions that could grant temporary access to the Metallic Arts. But their greatest prize remained elusive—the Bands of Mourning, legendary bracers that supposedly contained all sixteen Allomantic and all sixteen Feruchemical abilities combined into a single artifact of unimaginable power. The revelation struck Wax like a physical blow. His uncle Edwarn wasn't just seeking political control of the Basin—he was hunting artifacts that could make him into a god. With the Bands of Mourning, Suit would possess abilities that rivaled the Lord Ruler himself. Immortality, superhuman strength, the power to manipulate minds and matter at will. The conspiracy suddenly made terrible sense. Why settle for ruling a few cities when you could reshape the entire world according to your vision? The temple where the Bands waited perched on a knife-edge of rock high in the frozen peaks, its ancient stones defying wind and weather through centuries of abandonment. But reaching it would require more than determination—it would demand sacrifices that none of them were prepared to make.

Chapter 7: The Temple of Mourning: Ancient Traps and Ultimate Power

The temple perched on a knife-edge of rock high in the frozen peaks, its black stones absorbing moonlight rather than reflecting it. A massive statue of the Lord Ruler dominated the entrance, one eye pierced by a metal spike that gleamed with inner fire. The broken gates and scattered bones around the threshold told the story of previous expeditions that had ended in failure and death. Inside, the structure revealed itself as a gauntlet of mechanical horrors designed to test or destroy those who sought its secrets. Pressure plates triggered spears that shot from hidden slots in the walls, while false floors opened onto pits lined with razor-sharp stakes. MeLaan took the lead, her kandra nature allowing her to spring traps safely while the others followed in her footsteps through chambers littered with the remains of earlier treasure seekers. The central chamber held a pedestal surrounded by broken glass, clearly designed to display something of great importance. But the case was empty, its contents long since removed by hands unknown. The disappointment was crushing until Wax's detective instincts kicked in, noting inconsistencies that suggested this too was a deception. The real treasure had been hidden in plain sight all along, disguised as part of the temple's own structure. The spearhead from the Lord Ruler's statue was no mere decoration but the Bands of Mourning themselves, forged into a single artifact that pulsed with barely contained power. As Wax reached for it, the temple's ancient systems activated in response to the disturbance. Stone blocks began sliding from the walls while the floor tilted at dangerous angles, threatening to dump them all into the abyss below. The confrontation with Uncle Edwarn came not in the temple's depths but in its shadow, where family bonds proved more fragile than spider silk. He arrived with his remaining forces just as the mountain itself began to collapse, desperation driving him to methods that sickened even his own subordinates. The promise of godlike power had made any atrocity seem justified, but some prices were too high for any mortal to pay.

Chapter 8: Final Reckoning: Family Betrayal and Divine Choice

Telsin's betrayal cut deeper than any blade as she revealed her true allegiance to the Set, her months of apparent captivity nothing more than an elaborate deception. The aluminum bullets from her gun found their mark with precision born of long planning, and Wax felt his life bleeding away onto the frozen stone while his sister stood over him with eyes as cold as the mountain peaks. In the space between heartbeats, between life and death, Wax found himself walking beside Harmony through a realm of mist and starlight. The god's presence was both comforting and terrible, offering explanations for the pain that had shaped Wax's life and choices that would define whatever future remained to him. The conversation revealed truths about sacrifice and duty that cut to the heart of what it meant to be human in a world where gods walked among mortals. Marasi's desperate gamble with the true Bands of Mourning pulled Wax back from the brink of eternity. The artifact's power flowed through him like liquid fire, healing his wounds and filling him with strength beyond mortal limits. For a brief moment, he held the same abilities that had once belonged to the Lord Ruler himself, feeling the weight of godhood and understanding why such power had corrupted even the best of men. The temple's hidden chambers revealed their final secret—the frozen corpses of the original guardians, seated in eternal vigil around the artifact they had died protecting. Their sacrifice had preserved the Bands for centuries, waiting for someone worthy to claim them. But worthiness, Wax realized, was not about power or nobility. It was about knowing when to let go, when to trust others with burdens too great for any one person to bear. The final battle above the frozen peaks was a dance of physics and fury, with Wax wielding the Bands' power like a conductor directing an orchestra of destruction. Edwarn's Hemalurgic enhancements made him dangerous, but they couldn't match the terrible clarity that came with wielding a god's artifacts. When the mountain finally stopped shaking and the last echoes of gunfire faded into silence, only the wind remained to mourn the dead and witness the choices that would reshape the world.

Summary

In the end, the greatest treasure was not the power they sought but the knowledge they gained. Wax returned to Elendel with proof of worlds beyond their borders and technologies that could revolutionize civilization. His sister's betrayal had cost him blood and innocence, but it had also freed him from the last chains of family obligation. The Set's conspiracy was broken, their leader dead, and their dreams of godhood buried beneath tons of stone and ice. The Bands of Mourning remained lost, perhaps as they should be. True power, Wax had learned, lay not in the ability to control others but in the wisdom to know when such control should be refused. As he stood in the ruins of the ancient temple, watching the sun rise over peaks that had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, he understood that some legends were better left as stories, and some powers were too dangerous for any mortal to wield. The world was vast and full of wonders, but also dangers that made human ambitions seem small by comparison. The mists would always return to Elendel, but they no longer hid the city from the world—they simply reminded its people that some mysteries were worth preserving, even as others demanded to be solved.

About Author

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Brandon Sanderson

Sanderson situates his narratives in a universe brimming with interconnected worlds, where his stories span across genres like fantasy, science fiction, and thrillers. His work is characterized by a commitment to expansive world-building, which serves as a platform for exploring intricate themes of power, morality, and heroism. By crafting series such as The Stormlight Archive and Mistborn, Sanderson investigates the human condition through the lens of epic fantasy, enabling readers to engage with complex characters and moral dilemmas. His storytelling method involves weaving multiple series into a shared universe called the Cosmere, which includes acclaimed works like The Emperor’s Soul and Elantris.\n\nMeanwhile, Sanderson also ventures into young adult and lighter narratives, catering to diverse audiences with series like The Reckoners and Skyward. His ability to navigate different tones and styles ensures that his books resonate with both young and adult readers. The humor-filled Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series further exemplifies his range, blending comedic elements with action-packed plots. This versatility allows Sanderson to reach a wide audience, encouraging both new and seasoned readers to explore the depth of his fictional worlds. \n\nSanderson’s work has garnered recognition, such as the Hugo Award for The Emperor’s Soul, underscoring his impact on the genre. The completion of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series also highlights his reputation for handling epic narratives. This author’s intricate plotting and detailed settings make his books a must-read for those who appreciate immersive storytelling. In summary, Sanderson’s literary contributions offer a rich tapestry of narratives that invite readers to ponder complex themes while being thoroughly entertained.

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