After the feast quiets, the buried bell sounds a second time, deeper than bronze should carry. Fires crackle low as every nearby conversation falls silent.
Frost withdraws beneath the earth in one direction, silvering a narrow trail toward the winter-path. Green shoots bend the other way, tracing a fresh line toward the river-road.
The trails were absent when the bell was placed. Their division resembles the boundary, yet neither follows Edrin’s warning. Beneath the soil, the drowned voice remains utterly silent.
Kaelen
Not our roads, wife. Something older hears Bon-rion welcome. Knife stays with you. I stand behind.
Kaelen looms behind Mera and places his knife into her hand. Poru watches from beside Sava, while the gathered Bon-rion warriors hold the fires and keep both new trails clear.
Sava
The bell welcomed two roads, but this answers from beyond both. We should listen before anyone steps across its choosing.
The frost line sharpens toward the winter-path, while the shoots lift toward the river. No spirit speaks, yet the contradiction waits plainly before Mera, asking which trail she will approach.