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“Maybe you’re right. We’ll learn more when Wren feels better.” He needed to start lifting things or he’d turn around and head back to the cabins to check on her. He could’ve stayed, but watching her and not being able to help her was worse.

The smile Leora gave him was gentle and hopeful. “Wren will be okay. Maybe not now, but soon.” She placed a hand on his arm. He nodded, thanked her, and went to help the others.

The temple itself was ancient. Orzen didn’t know what they were hoping to find beneath the debris, but the mounds of wood and ash still had to be cleared away. He rolled up the sleeves of his tunic—a deep burgundy one from a set of clothes Lyrah had delivered after Hollis’s rites—and joined the twins.

Hours of chopping and hauling wood later, Orzen was covered in dust and aching. He wiped his brow and sighed. At the very least, the exhaustion might hold the nightmare at bay. Despite all they’d done, the piles still stood taller than him. They’d have days of work ahead.

Garin was toddling off down the path back to the Glade when he’d finished helping. Orzen rushed to catch up.

“You’re moving fast for someone who worked hard all afternoon,” Garin grumbled when Orzen reached him. “Must be something on your mind.”

Orzen slowed to match his pace. “Oh, uh, I just haven’t talked to you since,” he waved vaguely behind them and then remembered Garin couldn’t see it. “You know, since the Heartwood.”

“And you wanted to talk to an old dwarf like me about it?” He chuckled, the staff sending little puffs of air arcing out from it with every step as he navigated the path back toward the Glade. “Think I know something about the gods that you don’t?”

“Do you?” Orzen asked hopefully. When Garin shook his head, Orzen said, “Actually, I was hoping you’d…know more about Wren than I do. Maybe…” He swallowed the frustration building in his throat. “Maybe you know what I should do to help her. Leora said to give her time.”

“There’s a reason Leora’s the leader here.”

“I’m trying.”

The lanterns burned bright ahead as the Glade prepared for the evening meal. Quillbury snuffled his way forward into the path, his spines already heavy with berries. Orzen greeted the hedgehog-like rootkin and gently plucked a handful of berries, carefully giving his spines a stroke. He stored them in the pocket of his belt. Maybe Wren would be able to eat them, if nothing else.

His thoughts kept swirling around the same issue. He didn’t understand why it had to be Wren at the center of all of this. Why Silas had chosen her. And if Orzen hadn’t been so bone-headed…so stubbornly determined to catch Silas before he could harm her, Silas may never have succeeded.

Velhya said she’d sensed the violation when Silas touched his memories. Orzen wasn’t sure how, and it wasn’t like he could ask her now, but she’d searched for him right away—brought Garin for protection. He’d told them what happened in a rush and by the time they met Wren at the Heartwood…

He clenched his fists at his sides. No changing the past now.

“Why her?” Orzen finally asked desperately. “Of all people, why someone so…” What could he say that Garin wouldn’t question? The dwarf had helped raise her, and was strong enough to crush Orzen if he didn’t like the answer.

“I only mean…she’s gentle.” Orzen cleared his throat. “She isn’t a fighter. Why was she the one dragged into this?”

Garin tilted his head as if listening to more than just his words. Orzen froze. He never knew, even his breathing might give him away to the old dwarf. Garin simply huffed under his breath.

“If anyone’s gotta chance to do this right, it’s her,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “We don’t know what choice she made while that god was taking her power like that, but knowing her, she chose better than us.” He grunted and the grip on his staff tightened. “Personally, I’d have destroyed Voryx on the spot. But that’s not her way. She doesn’t always know better, but she does better, even when she’s afraid.”

Garin was right about that. Whatever happened, whatever choice she’d made, Orzen trusted her above anyone else. She wouldn’t have decided without thinking it through.

“People like her,” Garin said quietly as they stepped under the rope bridges, “they remind us there’s still a world worth saving. That we’re worth saving. Sometimes, that matters more than winning.”

Orzen wasn’t sure how anything could sound so foreign and feel so true at the same time, but it settled in his chest, like he’d always known that was the answer.

“So,” Garin said, a lightness to his voice that wasn’t there before. “You changing your mind about staying around?”

It was almost teasing, but the words felt like a slap. The thought alone grated against Orzen so harshly he had to take a breath before he replied.

“Of course not.”

“Didn’t think so.” Garin huffed. “Just making sure.”

Then he mumbled something about getting Crumb back from Wendall before he got “turned into a stew” and left Orzen beside the seed pool.

Orzen didn’t want to seem too eager to return. He made himself walk back to the cottages slowly, though everything in him wanted to run there. Wren wasn’t in danger, not here, not really. He had to trust that others were caring for her as well, that she could heal given enough time.

When he slipped back through the door, Wren was awake, hunched at the table with her elbows propped up, head heavy in her palms. Jessa sat across from her, a plate of Wendall’s freshly made honey rolls between them.

Wren had the same glazed look in her eyes she’d had the last few days. When he entered, she blinked slowly at him, like she wasn’t really seeing him. Then she nodded once and turned back to Jessa.