The Moonweaver's fingers were colder than mountain snow, yet her touch sent warmth spiraling through your veins. As your palms met, her silver tattoos began to glow, tracing constellations across your skin. 'The moon sees all paths at once,' she murmured, her voice echoing with the sound of crashing tides. Her breath smelled of jasmine and frost as she leaned closer, pressing her forehead to yours.

Suddenly, you were falling - not down toward the jagged rocks below, but upward into the star-strewn sky. The cliff, the crowd, even your own body dissolved into silvery mist. Around you swirled visions: a castle of ice floating among comets, a library where books wrote themselves with moonbeams, a battlefield where warriors fought with mirrored shields that showed their deepest fears.

The Moonweaver's laughter surrounded you like wind chimes. 'To rule the stars, you must first understand their reflections,' she whispered. Your feet touched solid ground again - the surface of a vast, still lake that perfectly mirrored the heavens above. As you looked down, your reflection winked at you with knowing eyes.

Back on the cliff, the other two figures watched with unreadable expressions. The Starlight Crown pulsed brighter, its gems now glowing with captured moonlight. The High Priestess gasped, her wrinkled hands trembling. 'The moon's blessing is rare,' she said. 'It sees something in you that even the stars have missed.'