A Signal to Carry

The tree did not vanish behind them.

It remained, quiet and glowing — a steady rhythm in the soil, the sky, their skin. As Kai, Sienna, and Cairo crossed the ridge, they paused only once to look back.

None of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

The new signal was faint, pulsing just beyond the valley, past the wild ridges and forgotten stones. It came not from a well — not yet — but from where one might rise.

Cairo adjusted their satchel. “It’s not built. It’s waiting.”

Before they could descend, Sienna held up a hand. “We should check in.”

Kai opened the drone’s relay system. “She’ll answer.”

A few moments later, a voice filtered in — calm, bright, focused:

“This is Jada. I see the echo. Where are you standing?”

Cairo stepped forward. “Just past the rootline. There’s no well here yet, but there’s a rhythm — raw and unfamiliar.”

“Good,” Jada replied. “That means it hasn’t been overwritten. You’re near origin-ground. Hold what you find, but don’t frame it too soon. Let it breathe first.”

Sienna smiled. “You always know.”

“That’s my job,” Jada answered, warm and wry. “Trace it back. Stay curious. Protect the story.”

Kai gave a small salute to the drone. “We’ll send readings once the stone lifts.”

“I’ll be listening,” Jada said. “And I’ll start the archive.”

The signal closed, but not the connection.

Then — ahead, nestled in the roots of a half-fallen tree — a fragment.

A lens.

Sienna knelt. “It’s like the first ones. But newer. Placed.”

Cairo picked it up, held it skyward.

Light bent through it.

A ring formed on the ground — not golden, not red, but green.

A beginning.

They stood in it together.

“This,” Cairo said softly, “is how we build the next well.
Not from what we know.
From what we’re willing to grow alongside.”

The wind shifted.

The ground stirred.

And from the center of the ring, the first stone rose.