CHAPTER TEN: THREADS OF THE UNHEARD (Part seven)
Zephryn stepped back from the gate.
Not because it repelled him—
but because something beneath it had opened.
Not physically.
Not visibly.
But in pulse.
The air shifted.
The grass stilled.
And the glyphs in the stone dimmed like they'd finished blinking in recognition.
Bubbalor stayed low to the earth now,
one paw pressed to the stone.
A faint hum rippled from its core—
the kind it only released when something sacred was nearby.
Or something dangerous.
Zephryn didn't speak again.
He just stared at the archway,
where the shimmer had faded
but the memory had not.
Under the arch, just near the base of the inner ring,
a new spiral had formed.
Faint.
Temporary.
Drawn in the dust by wind—
or something older than wind.
The same spiral Kaelen had found in Thaelen's notes.
The same one etched in the dorm floor.
And now?
It was waiting at the Trial's gate.
Zephryn stepped forward once.
The spiral vanished.
But the hum stayed in his chest.
He turned away.
Didn't look back.
And as he walked,
the stone behind him whispered once—
too low to hear,
but just loud enough to be remembered.