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Its voids fixed on Wren. The creature bellowed, long and rattling, as though finally noticing their pitiful attacks against it.

Another sound followed, vibrating through Orzen’s chest. Not pain. Laughter. Hollow, cold, and echoing like a breath from a crypt. I tire of this, it hissed. You’ll see the truth.

The voice vibrated inside his skull. The others staggered, clutching their heads, grimacing like they’d heard it too.

The monster folded inward, its frame collapsing. Bones unraveled into moss and strips of rotted flesh. All of it poured back into the pool. The water frothed, black foam swelling, devouring what remained—and then, with a final hiss, it stilled.

Silence fell, but the water rippled like it couldn’t settle.

Orzen dropped to his knees, breath tearing out in ragged gasps. Across the clearing, Garin propped Calen under his good arm. Crumb poked his small brown head from Garin’s pocket, squeaking indignantly like the fight had woken him from a nap.

Jessa stood trembling, hands still half-raised as if bracing for the monster to rise again. Branwynn and Tommick crept forward on unsteady legs. Wren stood pale, her mark blazing like a sun beneath her skin.

Sometime during the fight, Orzen had drifted to the far edge of the pool. Ahead of him, Silas swayed, eyes unfocused, terror hollowing his face. His lips moved, his voice barely audible.

“I’ll do better,” he whispered. He staggered to his knees on the bank. “I know what happens if I fail. Father, please…I’ll adapt. She’ll be ready.”

Orzen went rigid. Heat licked up his spine. The lingering fire wasn’t gone, just banked and waiting for him to let it go. Every muscle begged him to strike. He took a single step forward, sword heavy in his grip. He saw it—felt himself driving steel into Silas’s back, watching him crumble into the mud. One strike and it would be finished. Wren would be safe.

But he remembered her hand on his arm, her eyes soft and concerned as she reminded him of his own words. Hurting Silas now would only vindicate him, prove that he was right about Orzen—dangerous, out of control, violent—exactly what he wanted her to believe about him.

Wren would look at him differently. They all would.

And he’d lose the one thing Silas had given him: proof.

He swallowed hard, forcing the blade down. It felt like defeat. But it wasn’t. Not yet. Tonight, when it was his watch and Silas slept, Orzen would corner him and drag the truth from him.

One way or another, Orzen would make him confess.

Chapter 32

A Sound In the Dark

They moved on while there was still light. Other than Calen’s shoulder, no one had been badly injured, and with the way Jessa fawned over him, Orzen doubted Calen even noticed the pain. Wren promised to set it once they stopped for the day. No one wanted to linger near the water longer than they had to.

Silas led, but he was pale now, steps slower, like he was listening for voices none of them could hear. Branwynn’s glare burned between his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry.” Silas drew a careful breath and pitched his voice soft—almost gentle. “I should have done more.” He turned to Tommick, who trudged beside his mother, his small face—usually bright—pinched and dark. “I’ve been unkind to you,” Silas said. “I apologize. Will you forgive me?”

Tommick’s fists clenched his stick-sword. “No! I hate you!”

The words came out with the pure venom only a child’s truth contained. Branwynn flinched and gathered him close, stroking his hair like smoothing it might also soften his anger. Silas only nodded once, hollow—as if the answer had never mattered.

Orzen noted the unconcerned nod. The dismissal. His jaw locked until his teeth ached. Gods, one good punch would wipe that smirk right off his face.

No. That’s exactly what he wants. Not yet, or Wren won’t believe another word you say.

Ahead of them, Wren’s fingers dragged along her horns, a tense little habit she had when she was fighting to stay calm. Almost like the motion alone could hold everyone together. Orzen blew out a long breath and looked away. His fire weaving hadn’t flared again, but heat still smoldered under his skin, waiting.

A civil conversation with Silas was unlikely. Not that he wouldn’t try to restrain himself. He only needed to press Silas until he slipped. Until then, he hoped he could restrain his anger. Wren could read his memories again afterward to see the truth for herself.

“Are you okay?”

Wren’s voice was quiet, but it startled him all the same. Why did she have to walk so close to him? His stupid heart agreed it was a problem. Her face was pinched in concern, and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Somehow she looked prettier now than she’d ever been before. It made no sense. Maybe Jessa’s words rattled something loose in his brain. All the feelings he’d tried to deny were so painfully obvious now.

“I, uh, I’ve been better,” he admitted.

He met her eyes briefly before he had to look away. She might recognize the truth in them. He couldn’t let her see it, not while he was still trying to figure out what exactly he wanted from her, or if he was allowed to want anything at all. Friendship was something she’d already offered him. He wouldn’t ruin what they had now by asking more of her.