Eleonor did not touch the box.
The Direction Eye's needle remained pointed toward the sea, even though the compass had already stopped spinning. The sentence had disappeared from the inner surface, but a thin layer of silver mana remained over the glass, recording the exact point where each word had appeared.
Elion brought an instrument close to the box.
"It was not an automatic reaction."
"Are you certain?"
"A compass points. It does not write messages."
Eleonor kept her eyes on the object.
"Then someone used the connection."
"Or something."
Elion adjusted the measuring crystal. The energy it detected did not resemble the Cartographer's. Nor did it carry the red lines found in the Well. It was too clean, too organized, as if it had been produced by a structure that still lacked enough personality to leave imperfections.
"The Cradle sent the message," Elion concluded.
Eleonor looked at her.
"A place does not send messages."
"Perhaps it is not merely a place."
