The Stillness Bell

The Stillness Bell was small.Plain.Easy to miss.

Most Rangers didn’t carry it for emergencies. They carried it for moments when everything felt like one.

When the noise piled up—thoughts overlapping, worries bumping elbows, Fugglies pacing in tight circles—the Bell waited. It never rang on its own. It was only used by choice.

Ffyo learned that the Bell wasn’t meant to stop the world. It was meant to stop the spin.

One deep breath. One gentle ring. One moment where nothing else was required.

The sound didn’t travel far, but it traveled deep. The Fugglies paused mid-panic. The rush lost its urgency. What felt immovable softened just enough to breathe around.

Rangers say that in stillness, even mountains move—not because they rush, but because pressure finally has space to shift.

The Bell didn’t fix problems. It reset the ground beneath them.

And from steady ground, the next step always knew where to land.