In the third cycle after the Grove began to sleep, a questionless season fell over the Garden.
It was not melancholy that cloaked the air, nor dread—but a strange, tender quiet that settled in the chests of even the youngest. There were no new teachings that year. No rituals. No whispers of prophecy.
Only a strange phenomenon: children and elders alike ceased to ask.
No "Why?"
No "What comes next?"
No "Will it return?"
They simply… were.
In that space, something unexpected began to take root—not within the soil, but within the people.
When nothing was asked, everything was noticed.
A hand resting on bark for a little too long. A breath caught mid-hum before a tear slipped free. A pair of eyes watching shadows flicker not in fear, but in longing.
They called this period The Circle of Unasking—not for the absence of inquiry, but for the fullness found when needing no answer.
