The first pulse rolls through the hollow. Gold threads draw from Greenleaves toward the shallow basin, each one carrying a flicker of memory.
Merrin
The witness stone is awake. Amber, the basin is not asking for blood. It is asking for a name given freely.
Merrin braces Greenleaves away from the curling roots. The broken tether-mark glows beneath the basin, while a hair-thin rootway opens beyond it toward a distant, steady pulse.
Greenleaves
I remember the promise. I remember Quiet. But the name that bound me to this place is fading.
On the witness stone, dormant grooves fill with pale light. A single empty line forms beneath the inscription, shaped for a living mark before the second pulse arrives.
Merrin
If her true name is written there, the gate may recognize its keeper instead of taking her memories. If it is false, the roots will finish what they began.