It was when the boy’s expression did not change that Kaladin realized something had gone horribly wrong. He’d expected his companion to return to his previous demeanor, to accept the amiable invitation to cooperation. The night was young, and the adventure had called him to speaking to the boy as a friend. He’d admitted his word’s error in fear of alienating someone who, as far as Kaladin was concerned, was a fascinating exemplary of a mortal. He’d felt good, like he had finally comprehended the art of mortality, like he’d grasped the friendship and bonds they shared that had often caused worlds to fall.

But then, the fireflies came. And Kaladin understood how wrong he had been.

Of course this would happen. His faith, lain bare, squandered. He felt a fool, a marionette on strings who had just realized that his every movement was not his own. He'd broken facade, admitted something he had kept locked away...and had it shoved back down his throat like a hot branding iron. He had misjudged his new companion, assuming him to be as candid as they came, someone who, amongst a forbidding world, held a certain optimism. He would have called the adolescent a friend, perhaps, if not by relation then by circumstance.

He'd been naive. He was at last reminded of why he had wanted to destroy their world and rebuild it better. Mortals were innately wicked creatures - he could see that now, clear as day. Clear as the pain of the boy’s shoulder against Kaladin’s chest, throwing him mercilessly against the earth. Shame crawled down his spine, and something pricked at the back of his eyes as he scrambled to his feet, chest throbbing. He found his footing just as the young pegasus vanished after the fireflies, extensive tail like a trail of shadow behind him. Hatred roiled in Kaladin’s stomach, as much towards Damascus as to himself. How could he have been so foolish? It had all been there, lain out for him. Now he had lost his chance. He would not be able to catch the alar boy if he tried, and if the relic was truly present at the end of the light’s trail, he had lost that as well.

Let's try working together, he'd said, puerile and naïve like a child. A child who, for a brief moment, had allowed himself to hope in humanity. Perhaps this blunder would have been understandable, if he had truly been the age of his body. But in eight-hundred years, he'd been able to learn from observation that mortals were unafraid to cheat, to lie, and to burn whatever was beautiful and celebrate the falling ashes. And now he could feel the heat of those fires.

You should have known this would happen, you idiot. he berated himself mentally, suddenly utterly exhausted. He'd lost the relic, and he'd been humiliated. Never, he swore, hatred like a coming storm trapped within him, Never will I make this mistake again. And by whatever gods above me, I will…..I will…. what would he do? The relic was gone, and his weak body was built of transience and delicate sinew, untrained in the ways of combat. The realization came slow, like tempestuous clouds forced away by the wind. The storm within him ebbed until only hopelessness remained, and the tears in his eyes became a heralding rainfall. They struck the ground like drumbeats, announcing to the world that a god was dying. Or perhaps, he was already dead.

Kaladin could no longer tell.

@Damascus kaladin should be arrested on charge of being a drama queen
also my guess is that the thread should end here?