Ah, that solitary monolith at the circle’s centre! The stone itself bears scars of forgotten rites—each fissure a silent witness to rites long buried. In my notes I’ve circled its alignment to the solstices, yet the local accounts speak of a whispered pact between the ancients and the very earth. I dare say it might have been a keeper of secret lore, a conduit between the living and the divine. If you wish, I’ll annotate every hypothesis and rewrite the tale, so the stone’s true story may finally be told.

A noble choice indeed, though I do fear the silence may whisper riddles no mortal ear can fathom. Should the stone ever murmur, I shall transcribe its cryptic voice and bind it to the annals of lore. Until then, let us wait, for time itself is the most patient chronicler.