By The Moon's Blade

5. Grasshaven, Six Months Ago

For the muse we cry

For the muse we shout

For the muse we die

A silent spectator

Guiding our souls through the darkness

Your force mighty

Yet, your voice a soft caress

Hanging in the heavens

A single pearl dancing on a string

We seek out your truth

Us gods, shimmering

It appears that there is a connection directly from the Lunarian people to the moon energy that beams down to the earth. Information that I already knew, but nice to have it confirmed. But what interests me the most is the connection to mind and body. That lunar energy somehow embeds within our skin and seeps into our veins to allow us to control the world around us.

Water, air, earth, fire, and... lumina — elements.

But that lunar energy is too unruly to be absorbed directly from the source. Our bodies cannot consume that power, just like our bodies were not meant to ingest heavy metals or solid stone. If there were a way to transmit that energy into our bodies with some sort of... conduit.

The realization gives me chills. The Vestiges are just a conduit. This brightstream carries the light of the moon into this chamber, nurturing it until it's ready to be used. The stream washes against the rocks, transforming them into moonstones, full of easily manipulated power that can be used to control the earth's elements within our grasp. But there is a time limit for efficacy and with the evacuation of the Lunari, no one has been able to maintain this gathering place for centuries.

That water she created was a miracle. Tears line my eyes in an eddy of joy, sorrow, and appreciation for this gift. I look down at my hands, almost a reflection of my mother's and I recognize the responsibility that's been placed upon my shoulders. Willingly or no, my power is not to be ignored. I stand up and face the hands embedded within the stone in front of me. I bring up my hand join the one on the right, rane. My fingertips drift within the divots in the stone and I let myself cry, not tightening my throat or gasping for air, but just letting the tears fall down my face.

After giving myself a few quiet moments of reflection, I turn back around and look at the aisle of stones in the center of the room. Rocks, oria. Water, rane. Each of these belong to the earth and I realize that the key is not just the moon's energy, but the connection to the earth. That power is embedded into us, not only from the moon, but also from the very elements that give us magic to begin with.

But as I look further into the stream, I recognize the gloom that haunts the water and I picture the ghost of the brightstream staring back, previously blinding in luminosity now dried up into a bed of jagged rocks. Why is it vanishing? Is it some sort of punishment? Or is this all the work of the Demonclaws?

And as the flash of talons jerks me back to the present, I realize in a panic that I've been completely distracted by the excitement of my discoveries. I begin to wonder if this place has been hidden from the Demonclaws or if they've been able to track me all along. If they've been anywhere close to the village, they must be aware of its existence, but the actual entrance may disguised with some sort of illusion. I check around the room, scanning the walls for any signs.

My eyes dart high and low until they come across a few symbols carved into each corner. I recognize the symbols from the staircase and open up the translation book I used on the poem. I study the pages quickly until I come across an entry titled Lunari Protection Practices and see a few of the corresponding symbols entered into the pages.