The slow, rhythmic flicker from the cavern was a vigil light for The Wellspring. It was a sign of life, but a fragile one. The mountain's song was returning, but it was the hesitant, convalescent rhythm of a heart learning to beat steadily again. The community moved with a new tenderness, speaking in hushed tones, as if afraid a loud noise might shatter the delicate harmony they were nursing back to health.
This collective care forged a deeper unity than any celebration could have. They had faced the silence together and had not been broken by it. The memory of standing shoulder-to-shoulder around the well, pouring their shared hope into a single, healing note, was a bond stronger than any timber or stone.
It was in this atmosphere of hard-won peace that the strangers came.
