As the last of the new seedlings settled into the soil, the grove itself seemed to sigh—a deep, resonant hum that rippled through the air like the breath of the earth.
Lira brushed the dirt from her hands and looked up. The giant tree that stood at the heart of her grove began to glow. Faint at first—like moonlight through mist—but then brighter, washing everything in shades of gold and green.
"Do you feel that?" Thalanir asked, his voice quiet, reverent.
Lira stepped closer, her heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the light. "It's reacting…" she whispered.
The leaves shimmered as if singing to her, a rustle of sound that was more emotion than voice—gratitude, renewal, creation. Then, before their eyes, the ground near the tree began to shift. The soil moved in small, graceful waves until roots curved upward, shaping into a smooth wooden form.
