“You," Selmas breathes, unsure exactly what has happened. “What was that?"
“The Stone's history," Zehan says, stepping forward on nothing but air. The white space they're in seems like clouds, or fog, and Selmas' knees tremble as he worries he's going to fall through, plummeting to whatever ground waits below. “Or part of it, anyway. There's much more that it didn't show you. More that I don't know."
Selmas isn't sure how to wrap his head around that. “It's sentient?"
“Not exactly, Zehan says. “It's more like… a remnant of sentience. There's just enough left for it to keep its power, and to display the moment of its making."
“The smith on the wall," Selmas breathes. “That was… that was the Stone being forged, wasn't it."
Zehan smiles. “It took me years to carve that."
“You carv
