Oryn pinned the fault line map to the study wall on a Monday.
It was a large piece of paper, the largest I had seen in Vaelthorn, and he had spent three days producing it with the archive’s information, Verath’s geographic knowledge of the In Between, and Thessaly’s instruments. Every primary fault line in both worlds is marked in silver. Every secondary line in a lighter hand.
The locations of inhabited areas overlaid in red.
It was a map of everything that needed to be healed and everything that could be hurt in the healing.
We stood around it, all of us, the various people who had arrived at Vaelthorn by routes none of us had planned: Caelan and Oryn who had been here from the beginning, Thessaly who had stayed after she could have left, Maren and Senna who had come from opposite d
