As Rhys stepped into the open air, the starlit sky stretched wide above him, the last veil of night thinning toward dawn. But even as the ruin's threshold faded behind him, the weight of the shards did not leave.
The [Moonstone] at his side began to pulse.
At first, it was faint—like a heartbeat. Then stronger, until the air itself seemed to hum. The four shards he had gathered—the Lunar, Mist, Tidal, and the shard he had just claimed—answered the call. They rose from his pack, glowing with their own distinct hues: silver light, soft mist, deep tide-blue, and balanced shadow-light.
The shards circled the [Moonstone], threads of energy weaving between them like the phases of the moon. For a moment, Rhys thought they might scatter into the sky, but instead, they folded inward, drawn together by something deeper than will.
The light condensed. The fragments fused. Mist curled, tide surged, shadow softened into glow.
When the brilliance faded, a single gem floated before him.
