The chamber stays still after the descent. Several unlit doorways wait in the limestone, but none opens without invitation. Aren Vey sets the oval token on the floor.
Aren Vey
The travelers left their belongings above because each departure required a choice. Some returned for what they carried. Others decided that leaving it behind was part of surviving.
Blue mineral veins glimmer faintly beneath the stone. Bren remains near Sil’Thalis, attentive but silent, while the spring’s distant murmur marks the unobstructed way back.
Bren
I will listen, Aren. I will not record this or turn your account into authority over the people who left those things behind.
Aren Vey
Thank you. I remember a woman who abandoned the clasp, a child who carried the carved horse, and someone who broke the knife rather than surrender it.
Aren Vey keeps his hands away from the token. The unlit doorways remain dark, offering no demand, while Sil’Thalis has room to recover, question him, or let the silence stand.
Aren Vey
I do not yet know which doorway was mine. I know only that no path below should open because memory insists. It must wait for a willing step.