The silence in the study was dense, broken only by the soft crackle of the logs Damon had finally lit to push back the mountain chill.
"The Lex Terrae," Elder Thorpe murmured, rolling the scotch in his glass. "The Law of the Land. It’s the only statute Vane can’t wiggle around with bureaucracy. If we accuse him of Ecological Heresy—of murdering the earth itself—he has to face a tribunal."
"But a tribunal needs evidence," Jax pointed out from where he leaned against the bookshelf. "And Whisper Wind is locked down. Vane’s perimeter around that dead zone is tight enough to choke a gnat. We can’t get in to pull soil samples."
"We don’t need samples," Thorpe said. His gaze slid toward the shut door. "We need a witness. Someone who can speak for the land because the land lives inside them."
