Aria’s POV
Dawn came with water, not Warden dust.
The river rose again. Just an inch. No rain, no storm. The ridge exhaled like it had the other morning. This time it didn’t send mint.
It sent stone.
Small ones. White, smooth, round. Same as the one I found under the tree when the ridge carved “Elara” before I could speak it.
Dozens of them. Tumbling down the current, knocking soft against each other like beads without string.
Keth was first at the bank. He didn’t shout this time. He just crouched and let them hit his hands.
“They’re warm,” he said. Like stones shouldn’t be.
Mara picked one up. Held it to her nose. No mint smell. Just river and something older. Something like the deep vein hum, but quieter.
“It’s the ridge,” she said. “Giving back what we set down.”
Downr
