And Ophelia will presumably find her way down to the beach, in the process of hopefully figuring out the Sigil of Stone and its underlying mechanics, as regards the ability to produce from stone a desired final product.  Such as a bridge, or a large boulder.

(She has to actually succeed in charging it first, however - though she does have some hope that she and Cairn have enough underlying emotional commonality - or, to wit, sheer stubbornness - that it's not hopeless, even without properly organized lore - with only her own witness.)

...The Sigil connects.

Now she needs to figure out how to use it.

...The Forge-Bound and Cairn are not Sigils that she would expect to easily mix.  Still, she needs to at the very least bend the sigil of an Archon that tends more to forcefully wreck, to build.

She tries striking her usual Forge-Bind - her tools, as ever, only herself and her magic.

Her senses highten, and she can feel the concetration of invisible forces all around. The ground beneath her is mundane, the water all around seems to be slightly unusual, and the island on which House stands is definetely a place of power.

...Well that's interesting, if not what she came here to learn.

Now.  Stone, and the shaping thereof.

She is in control.

She stands upon the shoulders of every spiritual descendant of the first man to pick up a rock.  She wields the strength of the Spires themselves.  She will not falter.  And this island is hers.  Her place of power, her ancient Spire-in-waiting.

She traces symbols upon the sand in what most looks like a fugue; the circles-upon-circles of Stone at the focus of the ritual, specialized ritual guides derived from the interaction of sigils of expression with themselves wound outwards - or inwards - about them, and at the strike-point, the Sigil of Force, with which she shall muster the strength to move the world.

The Sigil of Stone is known to respect strength.  It is perhaps yet to be seen if it respects force, or Force - but the Forge-bind suggests, with her sharpened mind and will, that it is possible to bridge this gap - and she is an Archon, this she believes; she does the impossible, she breaks the unbreakable.  This will suffice.

She stands in the center of the diagram, and strikes her staff against the point of the ritual's focus, once, twice, thrice she strikes and done.

And the stone adrift along the crumbling cliffside moves, in an inexorable blur of shattered fragments, melding together piece by piece, reshaping the scree into a neat switchback from the town to the beach.

The stone obeys her will, and once perilous cliffs are now a path.

Some people from the village look down the cliff, surprised by the sudden shake.

Oh, good; it worked.

She'll just make sure it doesn't explode when someone actually tries to use it, shall she, and walk up.

"My apologies for the disturbance, everyone; I would have given better warning, but in this particular case I rather felt I had to strike while the metaphorical iron was hot if I wanted to make this work.  A lot of what I do is impacted by the way I think about it, and recapturing certainty that has fled is simply the worst sort of problem to have - and I'm sure that at least some of you have gotten caught up in projects before, though I imagine there are few of quite this magnitude.

"In other news, I'm intending to fix up the bridge; this was, technically, supposed to be a test of techniques I thought might be fit for the purpose.  It may have...grown, somewhat, in the process."  She sounds almost sheepish.  "...If anyone wants to know, I'd call it a qualified success; there's some problems that exist as regards bridging a river that this exercise avoided."

The people are wary, but apparently mostly satisfied by the explanation and will disperse, with a few remaining and looking at the new switchback, and the remains of the ritual on the beach.

She's brushed the ritual circle away, in puffs of sand and Force; best practices are to not leave things like this lying around, in general, outside of particularly well-controlled environments.

The sigils she has worked into the stone as part of her finishing pass, however, are quite observable, and she will pass comment upon them should someone be obviously looking.  "Those are Sigils of Preservation and Vigor, crossed with Material Form - I'm sure you can see the common elements between the two - and Force, with Proximate Action; to maintain the structure on the one hand, and on the other guard against falls should one be trying to walk the path night-blind.  I believe it will help steady carts, as well, though that is only something I have heard of, rather than done.  I've put in safeguards of a more material sort against accidents, I'm sure you can see the railings - but the redundancy can hardly hurt."

The onlookers nod confusedly, and continue looking at the cliffs, talking to each other.

"...Perhaps I shall take up teaching more than just letters and numbers, at this rate."

What's the tenor of the discussion?

Mostly gawking and idle chatter, with some excitement thrown in.

Right.  She'll probably be heading back to the bridge site, then, though if anyone does strike up a conversation, she'll hardly turn them away.

Though perhaps she should make an announcement, since everyone is already here.

"Ahem.  While I have your attention, ladies, gentlemen, and other distinguished beings, I would like to make an announcement."  She seems quite used to public speaking; her voice carries well, and she enunciates clearly.  "As you may have already heard, I have recently been offered - and accepted - the mantle of Librarian of Hush House.  I intend for my presence here to be to Brancrug's benefit, and to that effect, I wish to make known that my services as mage, judge, and teacher will be made available to those that would have use of them.  Some details remain to be worked out at the moment, but I refuse to be some distant, unknowable overlord, locked away in the manor's spires.  I would consider myself notably competent in the field of healing - and, to a lesset extent, midwifery - with magical aid, amongst others that I practice, and would have it known that I intend that those who are resident upon the Isle shall never be charged for such help, as sickness and injury are threats to us all and it takes quite little of my time to mend them.  I am buoyed enough by your wellness and continued contribution to our collective lives, and I hope that my tenure will be a positive contribution of my own.  ...Thank you for your time."

The people are a bit wary, especially around mentions of magery, but they nod in acknowledgement.

Well, that's just great.  "...I don't know much about your prior experiences with magic, folk of Brancrug, but I can promise you that sigils, such as I used to accomplish this, are nearly the exact opposite in nature as what local lore I have yet encountered.  They're safe, predictable, and repeatable; their nature is such that no matter your method of approach, you will find the same Sigil and the same spells. Though the initial derivation of them may deal with the analysis of stranger powers, they are works of man, through and through; they behave according to the will of man, not some strange power with stranger demands.  They do exactly what they say they shall do, and they will do no further.  Should I use the Sigil of Life to heal a wound, it will promote life and growth, and do naught else.  Should I cast the Sigil of Vigor, it will sustain one's vigor, and naught else.  That's something of a problem when you're using it to keep an army on the march, actually, but I can attest that a General who would sooner die himself than subject his men to needless risk trusted that Sigil for that exact purpose.  I will not risk harming people who have come to me for help, not unless I've exhausted my options to help in any other way.  This I swear upon my honor and my oath, and may the Justice I'm sworn to strike me down where I stand should I fail to keep it."

This doesn't especially serve to reassure them, though they're certrainly impressed by the speech.

Only time will tell, then.

She'll be heading back to the bridge now, unless anyone wants to talk to her.

Denzil has finished cleaning up the debris, and started patching the bridge up, closing up holes and reinforcing weaker parts. He briefly looks at Ophelia when she approaches, before returning to his work.

"Upshot of my investigations on Stone is that it doesn't seem to like to create out of nothing, unlike some other Sigils, and the cliffs are now a ramp because I was doing magic anyway.  I'd probably have better luck with making a bridge out of ice if I wanted to do things with just what we have on-site.  Even with the question of how to get the dang thing to stay un-melted afterwards.  ...There a quarry anywhere on the island?"

Denzil shakes his head, without interrupting the work.

"Thanks.  Anything that'd be a help, if I could do it?"

He shakes his head again.