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It’s been a week since Arvo and I arrived in this secluded community, and in that time the number of people in it has increased significantly. In a way, it’s nice our faces aren’t the only new ones here.

The acts of violence against the fidrélas are on the rise in Utsanek, and Bryn and Tress have responded by shepherding the most vulnerable to this place of safety. I worry for my friends, constantly putting themselves in danger like that. After all, I know what the consequences can be.

My heart shakes in my chest, trying to rid itself of the black thoughts sticking to it like tar.

Focus on the good.

I do not have to worry about Arvo’s safety. We have food to eat. Someone is always willing to lend a listening ear. We have a community. Our needs have been supplied—abundantly.

So why does my heart feel unsatisfied?

“Wehna?” Arvo tugs on my dress.

I force a smile to chase away every hint of inner turmoil before fixing my eyes on my brother. “Yes?”

“Orlagh wants me to help her try out her new oven. Can I go?”

The elderly woman walks to us with slow steps, the kindness in her lined face a soothing balm.

My grin is real now. I exchange a questioning look with her. “Are you sure you know what you’re taking on?”

The squeeze on my arm is an answer itself. “Don’t yeh worry abou’ a thing. Time past, I had three bairns of my own, and I know wha’ kind of shenanigans they’re capable of.” She looks at Arvo and pinches his cheek, but I recognize a hint of sadness in her gaze.

How could such a wonderful lady have no grown children to look after her? I feel guilty for how absorbed with my own problems I have been.

Arvo grabs both of my hands and tugs down on them. “She said I can help her make spiced buns.”

I gasp playfully and reflect his expression of wonder. “Well, then. How could I say no?”

After hugging me so hard I almost fall over, he grabs Orlagh’s hand and chats her ear off as they exit the wooded area. I am left alone.

I take a slow breath and exhale heavily.

This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in the Vale. The close-growing trees have been trimmed of all lower branches, and the ground cover has been cleared. It has the feeling of a cathedral stretching to the heavens, a hidden grotto in the middle of a depressing wilderness.

Everywhere I look, bolétis grow in huge clusters in all the colors I could ever imagine. No wonder Bryn saw right through my lie about the glowing jewelry if he already knew about the forest’s unending variety of bioluminescent mushrooms. I’m certain if anyone could impart their luminescent qualities to other objects, this community would have figured it out by now.

Bryn has, at least, left off questioning me about it. I’m thankful, because it is impossible for me to dwell on life before the Vale without the air in my lungs thickening like sap.

I walk along the border of the enclosure, trailing my hand through the brambly hedge that keeps this space private. A myriad of five-petaled white flowers dot it like constellations. The sweet fragrance of new life rises to greet me. Surely it is Zomré by now, although the Foremost has not officially declared it.

It was Zomré when my family came to Utsanek ...

I sigh. How much different would our lives have been if we had come to live in this peaceful place instead of the forever-darkened streets outside of it?

The beauty and peace around me become too much for my overburdened soul. Rather than drawing my heart to praise, it reminds me of all I have lost. With the frightful beast of grief assailing my stomach, I leave. The haunted cathedral grasps at my heels.

30. Amyrah

WEHNA

IRAISE AN EYEBROW as my father purchases a cake of a sickeningly sweet confectionery he has always been partial to. It’s made of a compacted paste of dried fruits, tree nuts, and spices. He offers me a bite as we walk away from the stall, and I wrinkle my nose.

“I don’t know how you can eat that.”

He makes a show of being offended. “What? It’sgood.” He sinks his teeth in and groans with exaggerated pleasure.

I roll my eyes and link my arm with his as we walk down the alleyways. Utsanek seems like a lighter place, but it isn’t because of the new sola bones, or the lantern held out in front of me. I squeeze my father’s arm tighter, and we continue in comfortable silence. The bag slung across my body gently bumps my hip as we go, weighed down by Tress’s book.