A mountain hidden for centuries rose from the stone like a scar left by time itself.
Its walls were written with crescent symbols worn smooth by centuries of wind and silence.
As Aerin stepped inside, the Moon Crest pulsed sharply, reacting as though it had finally returned to something it remembered.
Nyxara halted at the threshold.
"This place does not judge companions," she said quietly. "Only bearers."
Aerin nodded and moved forward alone.
The chamber was vast and circular, its ceiling open to the night sky.
Moonlight poured down in a single silver in column, striking the floor where ancient runes spiraled inward.
The moment Aerin stepped into the light, the air shifted,heavy, pressing, alive.
The Moon Crest burned.
Silver light exploded outward, flooding the chamber. Aerin staggered, visions crashing into their mind like waves.
They saw kingdoms kneeling. Cities burning. Armies marching beneath a silver banner. They saw themselves seated upon a throne of moonstone, power radiating unchecked.
Then the vision twisted,villages in ruin, children crying, blood staining the earth beneath the same silver light.
A voice echoed, not spoken but felt in bone and breath.
BEARER OF THE CREST. YOU STAND AT THE EDGE OF BECOMING.
WILL YOU RULE OR WILL YOU DESTROY?
Aerin fell to their knees, clutching their chest as the Crest flared violently.
"I don't want a throne," Aerin said, voice shaking but clear.
"And I won't become a weapon."
The pressure intensified.
POWER DEMANDS DIRECTION. CHOOSE.
Aerin lifted their head, meeting the blinding light. Fear still lived in their heart,but so did resolve.
"I choose responsibility," they said. "Not control over others.
Control over myself."
The chamber fell silent.
The silver light receded, flowing back into the Crest.
The burning faded into a steady, calm pulse stronger than before, but no longer wild.
The runes dimmed.
Outside, Nyxara felt the shift and exhaled slowly.
When Aerin emerged, their steps were steadier, their presence changed.
The Crest no longer flared it waited, obedient and watchful.
"The sanctum accepted you," Nyxara said.
"That has not happened in generations."
Far away, beneath a different sky, King Morreth stiffened as the air itself trembled.
"So," he murmured, smiling darkly. "The Moon has chosen its path."
Above them all, the moon shone bright and unyielding.
And the world moved closer to war.