The morning of the five hundred and forty-seventh year brought a sound that had never been heard in the garden before. It was not the hum of the song threads. It was not the flow of the water. It was not the whisper of the west wind. It was a resonance that came from the stones themselves, a deep and ancient vibration that seemed to echo from the center of the earth.
Orla and Finn had passed on the guardianship long ago. The current guardians were a pair named Nessa and Kellan. They were young but deeply connected to the garden's history and its vision. They felt the resonance the moment they woke.
"The stones are singing," Nessa said, her hand pressed against the root stone. "Not the song threads. The stones themselves. They are echoing something."
Kellan knelt beside her, his ear to t
