There were people here.
Sort of.
They looked human—faces, limbs, eyes—but their expressions were blank. Their movements simple, repeating. They built things. They cooked. They planted trees and sang songs without words. None of them spoke. None acknowledged his presence unless he engaged them first.
Argolaith observed for a long time.
Days.
Then weeks.
He watched them go through their cycles—work, rest, creation, silence. They lived simple lives with no war, no hunger, no ambition.
They were complete… but empty.
He tried to speak with them.
Some mimicked his speech. Others just tilted their heads and smiled.
So Argolaith did something unexpected:
He joined them.
Not to blend in.
Not to trick the trial.
But to understand.
He helped build their homes. Crafted tools. Created art. He taught some to cook more complex meals using the herbs and ingredients in his ring. He built a library out of blank pages, drawing diagrams of the world beyond.
Months passed.
