Several peaceful weeks pass in Phandelver. The Hall of Welcome settles into its new rhythm, the golden current under the terrace running steady and quiet.
Mornings belong to work. Bren sharpens her blades by the window, Mara checks the conduit lines, and Sable hums softly as they measure the house’s pulse.
Kynes
It is quieter than the vault ever was.
Kynes finds his place in the smallest tasks, mending a latch, tracing the edge of a rune, then stepping back before anyone needs him to force the issue.
Bren
You keep looking like the room might ask something of you.
Mara
It only asks for patience. And less hovering.
Sable
The conduit remains stable. Your restraint improves outcomes.
Bren’s mouth twitches at that. Mara leans against the table, amused, while the house hums on around them, warm and lived-in.
Bren
Come sit, Kynes. Tell us what you think this place is becoming.