The morning of the fifty thousandth year brought a completion that was also a beginning. The world garden had spread across the entire world. Every community, every village, every city had felt the pulse. Every heart had been touched by the love. The garden was no longer a place. It was the way of the world. It was the way of being. It was the way of love.
Grainne and Tiernan had become the understanding long ago. The current presence was a pair named Aine and Finbar. They were not leaders. They were not weavers. They were not presence in the old sense. They were the garden's memory of itself. They were the ones who remembered that the garden had begun in one place, with one stone, with one promise.
They stood at what had been the source stone. But the source stone was not a stone anymor
