The bracelet clasped with no snap or click — only a soft hum, like a root rejoining soil. The vines curled naturally around Lira's wrist, fitting her as if they had been shaped for her hand alone. A warmth bloomed beneath her skin, subtle at first, then growing like rising sap. The shimmer faded from silver to a muted green, glowing with each beat of her heart.
Lira looked up. The old woman still stood close, her fingers briefly lingering near Lira's wrist, eyes filled with something unspoken — joy, sorrow, fulfillment.
"It responds to you," she murmured, voice like falling leaves. "Even after so long… you are still part of it."
