The Rumor of Water

The traveler arrived at the threshold of the Hall of Stillness, a silhouette of dust and distance against the setting sun.

His clothes, though well-made, were worn thin in places, and the lines on his face spoke of a long and weary journey.

He had heard whispers of a new way, a different kind of making, and had followed them like a rumor of water in a desert.

Nyra met him at the door, her presence a quiet anchor in the vast, silent space.

“I have come to learn,” he said, his voice raspy from disuse. “If you will have me.”