Aria’s POV
It opened at first light.
No wind. No hands. Just the bud on the staff loosening, petal by petal, until one small leaf unfolded. Bright green. Veined like a map. New as breath.
No one spoke. Ten chapters of mint. Ten chapters of bowls. Ten chapters of _Can we?_ And now wood answered without words.
Tui was the first to kneel. His bowl in his lap, empty. Tui’s mother’s bowl beside him, still holding river mint.
“It’s not a blade,” he whispered. “It’s a leaf. The staff forgot how to cut.”
Coren the Warden didn’t reach for his sheath. He reached for the air around the leaf, like he was testing if peace had weight.
“Wardens mark wood after blood,” he said, voice low. “The ridge marks wood after rain.”
Darian pressed his palm to the staff below the leaf. Didn’t t
