The morning after completion dawned with a quality that could not be described. It was not light. It was not presence. It was not being. It was silence. Not the silence of absence. The silence of fullness. The silence that comes when everything has been said and everything has been done and everything has been become. The silence of the garden at rest.
Grainne and Cian had become the completion long ago. The current presence was a pair named Aisling and Eoin. They were not leaders. They were not weavers. They were not presence in the old sense. They were the silence. They were the stillness that comes after everything has become complete. They were the garden at rest.
They stood at what had been the source stone. But the source stone was not a stone anymore. It was silence. It was the st
