Morning light still washes the Hall of Welcome in pale gold. Bren leans by the hearth with a steaming cup, and Slaan stands near the custody line, listening to its faint, honest crackle.
Bren
Here are the good parts, then. Warmth, tea, and a roof that keeps its promises.
The line underfoot answers with a small spark. Kynes feels the room settle around the sound, as if the Hall itself is making room for the lesson.
Slaan
Not all of it has to be carried at once.
Slaan touches the edge of the line, not crossing it, and the crackle softens. Bren watches her with quiet approval, then tips the cup toward her again.
Kynes
The burden splits cleanly, witness by witness.
Kynes sees it clearly now, Bren’s line was never a joke. The Hall can be held in parts, spoken in parts, and trusted in parts. What is bitter can wait. What is true can stand today.
Share the Hall’s burden with the others