Mira steps forward. The amber glow shifts beneath her feet as she moves — she cannot tell if she follows it or it follows her. The sand figure does not retreat. As she closes the distance, she can hear something: not a voice yet, but the sound of breath without lungs. The spiral groove deepens. Sand grains slip from the figure's face and fall without sound onto the chamber floor. She stops two arm's lengths away. This close, the figure is more presence than shape — she feels heat from the amber core at its centre, the same warmth as the pendant against her sternum. The groove finishes its slow spiral. The figure opens what it has been shaping, and for one suspended moment there is only silence — and then a sound emerges: a single note, low and resonant, the exact pitch the hollow hummed back to her above.