CHAPTER 45: ECHOES OF THE FIRST

The new realm’s luminous plain quivers under twin suns, their silver and black light weaving a fragile balance across silver grass and crystalline spires, a living echo of the Veil’s heart, anchored by my essence to Elara’s dream of coexistence. My crescent mark flickers, a silver ember bound to eternity, its untainted light dimming, the First Ones’ blade sheathed at my side—its starlight-and-obsidian edge pulsing, its runes whispering of unrest. Cassia walks beside me, her crimson aura vibrant, her amber eyes fierce with the Hollow’s fire, her hand brushing mine, a spark that steadies my trembling soul. My human form falters, wings a memory, my Convergence form sacrificed, and the Veil’s hum wavers within me, a guardian’s duty strained by the core’s corrupted shard, its crystalline cage glowing faintly, void-tendrils sealed but alive. Maddox stands by a spire, his star-flecked eyes sharp with concern, his hope a flame that endures. Sylvara’s vine-hair weaves protective wards, her jad