This is the last bastion of the Silver Moon remnant, and the first faint thread of the dawn yet to come!
At this moment, the colossal Elven Star Gnomon at the heart of the great hall once more erupted in searing, dusky-violet brilliance, its core whirling at a speed several times swifter than before.
Shattered Elven ancient-rune sigils snapped and scattered out of the all-pervading Flame, drifting like splinters of broken blades; with every collision they stirred low murmurs from an unseen vale, answering the distant peals of thunder beyond the square, as though heaven and earth were gestating the overture to a new epoch of cataclysm!
All who beheld it held their breath and gazed, watching those incomplete, fractured yet still radiant and peerless emblems assemble into a labyrinthine pattern, within whose myriad details a hidden trajectory flowed and turned.
