Page 171 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

“I need you to know,” he said finally, “seeing it all was a gift. Truly. So, I uh…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to give you something.”

He rifled through the pocket, fingers brushing the luck stone first. He almost pulled it out on instinct—but no. That wasn’t what he needed. His fingertips found the cool rolled edge of metal instead—so familiar he could describe it from memory.

He pulled it free and flipped it between his fingers once before holding it out to her. “It used to be the only piece of him I had left,” Orzen said quietly. The grooved forge stamp caught a sliver of morning light. “But I don’t need it anymore.”

Her breath caught. She opened her mouth like she was about to argue—to insist he keep it—but he gently set it in her palm and curled her fingers around it.

“I can’t…” she whispered. “Are you sure?” Her eyes searched his, brows knit in concern.

“You gave me back a piece of him I’d lost.” His voice was rough. “I want you to remember that’s what your weaving does—it heals. More than you think.”

She cradled the piece in her palm quietly, turning it carefully between her fingers like she wasn’t sure how to hold its weight. Her lashes fluttered, and she dipped her head, folding her fingers back over it.

“Thank you, Orzen.”

Seconds ticked by, and she nibbled at the scone, brushing her thumb over the worn edges of the scrap. Then her shoulders dipped. Behind her, the white tip of her tail flicked in quick, agitated motions the way it always did when she was upset.

“What’s wrong?”

She looked startled, like he’d interrupted her thoughts. “Oh. Nothing. I’m fine.”

There’d been a cloud hovering over her for days. The same shadow he’d noticed yesterday flickered behind her eyes. He’d been too wrapped up in his own concerns to press her, but now, in this moment of quiet, he had to.

“Your tail flicks when something’s bothering you.” He tilted his head, watching her closely.

Her tail froze behind her.

She crossed her arms. “No, it doesn’t.”

It flicked again, and her face pinched in an endearing way as she sighed. “I don’t like that you noticed that…” Her voice wavered. “There is something bothering me, though. I suppose now’s better than never.”

Before he could speak, she took a fragile breath and let the words spill out. “It’s not something you have to fix. I don’t think you can. Only, someone else should know, in case…”

She fumbled at a pocket of her belt and pulled out a scrap of parchment. “Back in Thistlehold, there was another Spirit Weaver. Her name is Hennah. She warned Tavrin about—” Wren took a shaking breath and continued, “—about the danger he was in. I didn’t recognize it in time to stop it, but it means she was telling the truth when she gave me this.”

The parchment trembled between her fingers. He took it gently. His eyes scanned over it—reading quickly. Then a second time. Again. Each repetition, his gaze snagged hard against one line:

She who bears the moon walks the path of sacrifice.

Everything inside him burned cold and hot all at once. He set the parchment down in the grass between them like it might burn within his fingers if he didn’t let it go. Like that might spare her from what was coming.

“Did you talk to Velhya about it?” He glared at the parchment. “What did she say?”

“I did. It’s been passed down through her people for hundreds of cycles,” she said. Then she shook her head. “It has something to do with the seal and the gods. I’m afraid whatever it really means, it’s happening soon.”

“So, Velhya knew about the prophecy before.” He scowled back toward the cabins. “Now you’re here and she decides you’re the one that needs to bear this?”

He made a sound of frustration under his breath. “Wren.” He waited until she looked at him. “I don’t want anyone deciding you’re the easiest piece to sacrifice.”

“It’s not like that,” she said quickly. “Velhya would never do that. Leora trusts her. I trust her.”

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he replied, voice shaking with the force of it.

“Orzen…” She tucked the parchment away, eyes soft but pained. “This is not why I told you. You can’t protect me. Not from this.”

He barely held back a growl. It was too similar to what Silas had mockingly told him when they’d fought. He couldn’t protect her from this. From Him, the Rotfather…

“What are you going to do against something like this?” she asked with a sigh.