Hajin watched Eirwen carry the silverwood case through the recess, its pale grain leaning toward Ferra's cradle beyond the boundary. Twelve Shards held beside her shoulders while the recorders filed the treaty strip and kept the absent chair on record.
"A witness seat," she said, setting the case beneath the recorders' view, "no administrative command, and I begin with the cutting that brought my Court here."
Three living clasps opened above a preservation membrane, and cedar scent drifted between the two separate containers.
White-gold bark lay over dark soil, and a wound split its grain while sap beaded along the edges.
"Ugh, it smells like a whole forest bleeding out," Juna muttered, ears pinning flat.
"Our final memory root began bleeding," Eirwen said, holding the membrane clear of the other case, "the archdruids applied restorative treatment for three days, and the tear kept answering despite it."
