The emerald morning light slipped between layers of colossal leaves, painting moving patterns across the Heart-Tree Plaza. Dawn here never arrived in a rush; it bled in slowly, like dye seeping through cotton, until every vine and bench glimmered in soft jade. High above, half-open fronds caught the first shimmer of the sun and turned it into thin ribbons of gold, sending the glow downward in wavering strands. Motes of crystalline pollen drifted through those shafts of light. They spiraled lazily, catching and releasing color with every tiny turn, so the air itself seemed stitched with glimmering thread.