Page 118 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

“But I—I can’t. I’m not—” Jessa scrambled forward. Her braids swayed as she shook her head vigorously.

Wren seized her hand, anchoring them both.

“You are. I’ve seen it. Tommick needs you.”

For a heartbeat, Jessa was frozen, fear pinched across her face. Then she swallowed and nodded once.

“I’ll try my best.”

Wren shut her eyes and squeezed the threads with her own weaving. The sludge writhed. Split. Peeled away from Tommick’s threads in black, oily ribbons. She forced it up—out, back into the decay that birthed it.

Black water burst from Tommick’s mouth. Wren rolled him onto his side, and he vomited a torrent of foul liquid that slithered across the mud. It squirmed toward the pool—alive, desperate to escape—until Branwynn stomped on it, heel grinding down until it stopped moving.

Tommick sagged in Wren’s arms, limp and unbreathing.

The corruption was gone, but his chest didn’t rise. Spirit fluttering wildly under her skin like wings beating against a locked cage. Jessa gathered him into her lap immediately, rocking him.

Her voice came soft and trembling—a song. Not words. Melody—pure and fragile as spun air. Wren felt the Air weaving within him, the notes threading into the hollow place where corruption had been. Vibrations brushed her skin, humming through the ground itself.

Tommick’s threads brightened. Frayed—but glowing.

His whole body jolted. He gasped, sucking great gulps of air. His eyes flew open, wide and terrified beneath the wet curls plastered to his forehead. When he spotted his mother, he began to sob. Jessa cradled him as Branwynn collapsed beside them, arms wrapping around them both, tears streaking down her face. Relief broke across the bank—shaky breaths, quiet cries, the sound of a world starting again after nearly stopping completely.

Orzen sprang to his feet beside her.

Every muscle wound tight. His skin glowed faintly with orange light, like coals igniting beneath the surface, steam curling from his armor. The air around his balled fist shimmered and warped. He stalked toward Silas with a purpose that made the air thicken.

Silas’s head snapped up. “I didn’t know,” he stammered.

His eyes widened, and he stumbled back toward the forest, palms raised. Orzen seized his collar and lifted him from his boots.

“I swear—if I believed the water was dangerous—”

In one motion, Orzen slammed Silas against a tree, breaking his words in half. The bark shuddered. Leaves shook loose and fell around them. Orzen pressed his forearm against Silas’s chest. The weight of it forced a strangled breath from Silas’s lungs.

“I warned you,” Orzen growled. “I warned you yesterday! You couldn’t wait a day to hurt the boy.” The air warped between them, the scent of scorched metal sharp in her nose.

“How could I have known?” Silas’s words came out strangled.

Wren was on her hooves, approaching before she realized she’d moved. She looked between the two men, heart hammering. Her hands still trembled with the effort of healing Tommick. If she didn’t do something, Orzen would kill him. There was little restraint left in his eyes.

“He’s dangerous!” Fear laced every syllable of Silas’s words. He shoved feebly at Orzen’s arm, the whites of his eyes shining. His shoulders scraped the bark as he twisted to look at her. “You saw it! I never hurt the child.”

Embers burned beneath Orzen’s skin, glowing brighter with every word. “You were the closest to him and you did nothing!” He snarled. “He almost died!”

Orzen’s elbow arced back, fist raised, muscles straining beneath his armor. Smoke curled from his knuckles. There was more pain than anger in his voice now.

Wren approached slowly, fingers carefully circling his bicep. Heat pulsed beneath the leather, every muscle rigid beneath her hand. Orzen’s eyes snapped to hers. For a heartbeat, the emotions were clear. Rage. Fear. Grief. They roared behind his gaze.

“Tommick is okay now.” Her voice was low and careful. “Orzen, please. You told me you didn’t want to hurt people anymore,” she whispered. “Don’t let him take that from you.”

His pulse thrummed beneath her fingers as he held her gaze. Silence stretched thin, but the fire didn’t subside. He closed his eyes briefly, a small surrender, like it was too painful to keep looking at her.

His fist dipped and let go. Silas dropped, staggering against the tree. Before relief could settle, Orzen drove his burning fist into the trunk with a cry so anguished it fractured in her chest. The bark split and blackened. Smoke curled from the crater left behind, drifting toward the sky like a warning.

“Orzen?” She tried to reach for him again, but he shook his head, eyes looking anywhere but at her.

He strode away, shoulders rigid, swiftly swallowed by the shadow of the distant trees.