"Only Blight-made," he said immediately. "No named shelves. If there's a living will, we stop the second we feel it." He breathed once, let the exhale steady his mouth. "I want the Riftborne to parley, not purge. Bind them to rules instead of break them."
Her mouth thinned to a blade, then softened at the hilt. "Witness clause holds." She touched two fingers to her bracer. "One trial."
He nodded, relief quick across his eyes. "Gray circle."
Tanglebeetles hurried forward, their spool-backs humming a modest little work song. Ash-colored thread unspooled in a perfect ring on the floor—unassuming, almost shy. Silk Guards raised a clear null-veil over it, the air shimmering like heat above stone. The Myco-Archivist dusted the space with a fine anti-spore veil until the air tasted like clean rock after storm.
