The first sign that the season had turned was not the weather, but the way people moved through the land. Steps slowed. Voices softened. There was less hurry in the air, as if everyone had reached the same quiet thought at once and decided that rushing would not help anymore. The work was still there, the same tasks waiting every morning, but they were no longer chased. They were met. Ethan noticed this as he walked the long path from the house to the open grounds, the earth firm under his boots, the sky wide and calm above him.
The hall stood finished now, not shining or grand, but steady and real. Its walls held warmth. Its doors stayed open from dawn to dusk. People passed through it without fear, some staying to talk, others only pausing long enough to rest their hands against the smo
