Page 132 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

Relief hit so hard his knees nearly buckled. For once, those beady eyes didn’t spike his pulse. The raven circled and landed on a low branch, tilting his head at Wren’s still form. With a soft scrape of his beak against bark, he launched into the air again, gliding along the narrow path.

“Sounds like we have a feathered guide,” Garin murmured.

Calen slowed, smiling despite his exhaustion. “Think we might be close.”

Branwynn exhaled like a prayer. “The Glade really is watching over us,” she whispered.

Watcher fluttered to another branch ahead—waiting. They followed. The forest changed gradually. The oppressive weight in the air gave way to something gentler. Cleaner. The Virewood wasn’t whole here, but it was trying. The ground sloped. Dry soil softened into a cushion of moss beneath their boots. The path dropped steeply, and Orzen adjusted Wren carefully against his chest, his boots slipping but steady.

At the bottom, the trees opened. It wasn’t a clearing exactly, more a dip in the land where life refused to give up. A pool shimmered, fed by the thin stream they’d been trailing for days. The water steamed faintly, warmth drifting off it like breath. Moss thickened underfoot, bright and springy. Ferns arched toward the light. Behind him, Branwynn gasped.

Tommick crawled from Jessa’s arms and sprinted ahead, tumbling into the moss with a laugh, hands sweeping through the softness like he’d fallen onto a bed. Garin let Jessa guide him down the incline. He sniffed, tilted his head, tapped his staff—listening to a quiet only he understood.

Orzen knelt and finally laid Wren down in the moss, brushing the hair from her forehead. She was fragile in the soft green light—young and small, but alive.

Calen hovered nearby, awe written across his face. “Never seen a place like this before,” he murmured.

Orzen clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You did good, kid. Got us here safely.” A faint grin tugged at his mouth. “And we didn’t have to hear a single smug tracking lesson.”

Calen flushed at the praise, pride flickering bright in his eyes.

Watcher settled on Wren’s horn, feathers brushing her forehead. He fixed Orzen with a stare as if he was waiting for something. Perhaps Watcher was expecting a reply.

Orzen grumbled under his breath as he eyed the bird. Wren was clearly a bad influence. He was interpreting the body language of ravens now. Next he’d probably start talking to the thing.

“Hey, Jessa,” he called out, “any parchment left?”

She set her pack down and handed over her writing supplies, watching as he quickly scrawled a note in an unsteady hand.

Stopped at Stillglen. We’re coming.

He tied it to Watcher’s leg. The raven tolerated it with only minimal judgement, even letting Orzen scratch the feathers above his eye before launching skyward. The dark shape vanished between the trees, a streak of hope.

“All right,” Jessa said, shoving herself to her feet. “I need a bath in the worst way. Men, go find firewood. Branwynn, we’re claiming the pool.”

Tommick started to follow Calen with a grin, but Branwynn caught him by the scruff of his shirt. “No, you’re coming with us.” He groaned like she’d handed down a death sentence and trudged after her.

Orzen lowered himself beside Wren, back toward the water. Behind him came laughter, a joyful sound he hadn’t realized he’d missed until it hit him all at once. Jessa whooped. Tommick shrieked in delight. Water slapped the stones as someone splashed too hard. Branwynn muttered protests that dissolved into giggles.

Stillglen held them gently in its palms.

Wren groaned, a weak sound, pinched and fragile. Her brow twitched. His heart stopped, but she didn’t wake. Not yet—but it was movement. Stars…he’d take it.

“Such a gentleman,” Jessa called when the splashing ended. “You can turn around now.”

Calen and Garin returned, carrying a decent amount of firewood for men with only two uninjured arms between them. Soon, the crackling fire warmed them, drying the dampness from their freshly washed clothes as they wore them.

Jessa’s hair hung in thick, springy coils down her back, Branwynn perched behind her on a stone, gently combing knots free with slow, careful motions. Calen watched her, hand freezing halfway to his mouth. The bread dangled from his fingers, like he forgot how eating worked.

Orzen leaned toward him, lips curling into a half-smirk. “You know you’re staring, right?”

Calen nearly inhaled the bread in panic, flushing from ear to ear as he ducked his head.

When they’d eaten what little they had, Jessa and Calen lay out the bedrolls. Somehow, theirs kept ending up side by side. Orzen grinned and shook his head. Then, Wren whimpered in her sleep, eyelids flickering like she was caught in a bad dream.

He startled when Branwynn laid her hand on his shoulder.

“You should wash up while you can,” she murmured. His gaze went straight to Wren, and Branwynn’s smile softened with understanding. “I’ll sit with her. She’ll be okay.”