Page 175 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

Velhya fixed her eyes on Leora—fierce love and pride shining in them—and pressed their hands together. Leora blinked back tears but did not look away.

“Not Arboradin by birth or rite, but in spirit and choice,” Velhya said. “You will bear the mantle of the Cycle Keeper until I return. And if I do not…” Her voice did not falter. “You will bear it still. And the Glade will follow.”

“Will you guard the Glade, as other Keepers have before you,” Velhya continued, “care for its people, listen when the forest speaks, and act when it cannot?”

Leora dipped her head in a single nod. “I will.”

Velhya nodded, and Aelori stepped forward. Leora bowed at her feet, chin trembling. Leaves draped over Leora’s arms and flowed down her back, pooling at the base of the pedestal. The weight of the mantle settled across Leora’s shoulders. She rose. The hush lingered for a breath.

Near the front, Elder Mossback, the stump-like rootkin, dipped its mushroom-covered head. “Keeeperrr…” he drawled.

One by one, the Gladeans followed—kneeling where they stood, hands to their hearts, heads bowed—until the whole Glade bent before Leora in honor.

Leora’s eyes shone as she looked upon them. This was power through promise, not taken by force. Leora did not strive to replace Velhya; she honored her. She accepted the stewardship of a place they both loved—not when she was ready, but when the world demanded it.

The prophecy hung over Wren like a gathering storm, but Velhya’s expression never changed, even as Leora took her place among them. Her peace should have been comforting. Instead, it was an omen.

Yet the sun dipped lower. Heartwood called.

Moonrise was coming—no matter Wren’s uncertainty.

Chapter 45

Borrowed Skin

On the eve of crisis, the Glade still chose joy. Orzen wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Wendall’s voice boomed, joking with Branwynn as they passed out second helpings of pastries. Jessa pulled Calen into an animated conversation with Sennah at a table strewn with maps.

Mira, Tommick, and the other children brandished sticks and darted about like they were battling monsters. Even Leora—freshly commissioned into leadership—flowed between the tables with cheerful smiles like she hadn’t been thrust into an authority she wasn’t prepared for.

It was uncanny—a peace that chafed against the hypervigilance Orzen prided himself on. He couldn’t relax, not now. Not when he wasn’t sure what they’d be facing.

Not until he knew Wren was safe.

They’d eaten without speaking, both wrapped in concerns they couldn’t bring themselves to give voice to. Wren observed the others, too, greeting them with gentle smiles and smooth words. He could almost believe she’d taken on the same calm as the Gladeans. But there was something in her eyes—quiet and wistful—like she was witnessing a life she’d already accepted she would never have.

He’d seen it before. Not in her, but in kids in the Row.

It was the small, careful wish that the world might be kinder, knowing that they’d never experience it themselves. He hated it. Hated the way it looked like peace when it was really resignation.

She’d learned to live without reaching for more.

He recognized it because he’d done the same. But it wouldn’t last. Even now, something in him was shifting—a quiet, dangerous belief that maybe survival wasn’t enough. That maybe he wasn’t meant to live alone forever.

She needed a distraction. Frankly, he did too.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said, slipping his hand over hers.

“What?” Wren blinked at him like she’d barely realized he was there. “Sorry, I was…thinking.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He gestured back toward the cottages. “You want to walk for a minute? Maybe where it’s not so loud?”

She stood, her fingers slipping from his before he was ready to let them go. When she turned toward the cottages, his shoulders eased. Such a silly thing—the worry that she might reject a simple request like this. He should’ve known by now, but it always surprised him.

The chatter of the others faded behind them. For a moment, the world narrowed to their footsteps along the path. Darkness had fallen but the moon, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen. There was still time.

Soft lantern light reflected in her hair, and he remembered how soft it had been when he’d brushed it aside in Stillglen. Wrong time. So many other things to be focused on. He needed to start filling the silence with words or these unnecessary thoughts would only cry louder.

“So, uh, let’s assume tonight goes well,” he said, voice louder than he meant. He cleared his throat. “We’ve gone to the Heartwood and…done whatever the hells we’re supposed to do. And we survive.” He wasn’t sure where he was going with this even as the words tumbled out of his mouth.