Solenne paused. “Then you must offer something first.”
Thane reached into his coat and pulled out a small relic—a broken compass, its needle long gone. He hummed and then placed it on the pedestal. The sphere absorbed it instantly.
The red thread flares now, unwound from the relic, no longer bound by silence or direction. Here is the moment rendered: the broken compass resting, the thread igniting with memory, the chamber beginning to speak.
