Winter deepened into the particular stillness that settled over the capital each year once harvest celebrations concluded, and I found myself, during one particularly quiet evening in mid-winter, revisiting a question that had lingered since Sorrenna's revelation about Aria's persistent existence somewhere beyond our reach.
"You're thinking about her again," Darius observed, joining me in our study where I'd been reviewing Sorrenna's letter for what felt like the hundredth time.
"I keep wondering," I said, "whether the same boundary that brought vessels here might somehow permit communication, even without full transference. If the Weeping Stones mark a location where the boundary runs thin, perhaps there's some way to reach across it, however briefly, without requiring full displacement."
