The sound of bells had always meant something in the orchard.
Morning bells summoned breath and focus. Noon bells marked the turning of thought to action.
Twilight bells, with their soft lilt, reminded everyone to return, reflect, and rest. But on the seventh day after the scouts returned, the bells fell silent.
Not broken. Not forgotten.
Simply... not rung.
The orchard noticed first. The wind, usually playful between branches, paused. Birds flitted less, chirped in shorter songs. The koi in the Reflecting Pool drifted, as if listening to something deeper.
Tian Shen noticed too. But he said nothing. Not yet.
...
Lan awoke from a dreamless sleep.
It was unsettling. For someone who lived by the undercurrents of dream, silence was not peace. It was absence. It was shadow. She rose, dressed with deliberate calm, and walked the length of the orchard paths until she found Feng Yin meditating atop the Arching Stone.
"The bells," Lan said.
Feng Yin didn't open her eyes.
