Page 197 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

A rush of confused emotions tumbled through her. They’d survived. Somehow, he’d pulled her back before Voryx could consume her completely. His reminder of who she was had given her space to choose at all.

She’d chosen to give Voryx a chance at redemption. It was a choice she couldn’t stop replaying. One that was impossible to take back, and even harder to speak about, knowing both Velhya and Hollis were gone because of it.

Yet, Silas’s deception overshadowed it all.

The shame of what Orzen didn’t know was overwhelming—a kiss she’d accepted believing it was really him, opening herself up to be used by Silas. To fail them all for her foolishness. Thinking about it now, she knew she should’ve seen it sooner. Silas had turned the closeness she’d finally begun to trust into a weapon against her. It clawed at her until she felt hollow.

That he’d used Orzen to do it filled her with a helpless rage.

Silas had fundamentally broken something she’d finally let herself want. Those feelings hadn’t disappeared. If anything, surviving the Heartwood had only made them harder to ignore. But now she feared every step toward Orzen would drag the memory of Silas behind it, until she could no longer tell one memory from the other.

Orzen didn’t know about the kiss. Didn’t need to know. It hadn’t been him, not really. Silas had taken advantage of her trust. Used it against her for his own ends. Knowing that didn’t make the shame disappear. It only made everything more confusing.

She didn’t know how to explain any of it without breaking this fragile thing between them. Seeing Orzen again, knowing it was really him, made it clear his friendship mattered too much to risk.

Holding it all was like choosing a slow death over a quick end. The fear twisted so sharply inside her, she wanted to turn over and curl up forever. But she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do that.

“It’s by the washbasin,” she said finally, voice rough.

Orzen spun to face her, relief brightening the lines of his face. “Hey, you’re awake.” He immediately abandoned his task and came to sit beside her on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

She folded her hands in her lap, the silence only broken by the quiet hiss of the steaming kettle. “Honestly? I’m not sure. But I can’t lie here anymore.”

He searched her face for so long that she began to feel self-conscious, shifting beside him until he finally said, “If you’re up to it, Leora’s given us a job.”

Wren looked at him skeptically. “She knows I can’t weave right now. I can’t imagine I’d be much help with anything else.”

He chuckled. “Well, she’s trying her best. We’re supposed to collect some water for the cisterns.”

“Because I can’t possibly mess that up,” Wren laughed bitterly. “Does everyone think I’m this useless now or is it only her?”

Orzen was suddenly serious. “No one thinks you’re useless. Leora, least of all.” She looked away, already feeling hot tears prickling in her eyes, until he took her hand. “It’s okay to need time,” he said quietly.

She nodded, forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Funny, coming from you,” she said, trying for a joke but only finding bitterness. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t really come from me,” he said, squeezing her hand and heading for the washbasin. “You taught me that. Simply trying to get you to remind yourself.”

“You need to put your armor back on,” she said with a shell of a laugh, standing and stretching. “You’re too insightful without it.”

“Been spending too much time around you and Garin.”

He smirked, filling a mug with steaming water and bringing it over. The scent of vanilla and mint was calming. She breathed it in and simply said, “Thank you.”

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “I’ll go grab some buckets.”

When she was alone again—the distant sounds of life in the Glade trickling through the walls—Wren slowly got herself together. She brushed the tangles from her hair and wiped away the grime that had collected while she’d ignored herself and the world outside.

Some part of her had acted as though everything else might stop moving if she simply stopped participating. But it hadn’t. The Glade kept living without her. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d lose herself by refusing to join it.

She emerged feeling slightly more like herself, but not completely. Amazing what clean clothes and a freshly washed face could do. It wasn’t everything, but still, it was a start.

Orzen waited at the end of the row of cottages, a collection of empty buckets swinging in his hands. He lifted them like he’d found a prize, and she rolled her eyes.

They walked together through the Glade. If she hadn’t known how it had been before—loud, joyful, and full of life—she might’ve mistaken the quiet for peace. She knew it for what it really was—collective sorrow spilling out between mundane moments.

Mira hurled rocks into one of the pools, each one making progressively larger splashes. Calen stood beside her, handing her stones as Jessa watched them both with heaviness deep in her eyes.

Wendall greeted them with a boisterous wave, carrying Crumb, Sprig, and Sprout on his shoulders—three rootkin pastry-chefs on their way to ‘assist’ by eating as much as they could fit in their tiny mouths.