You tilt your face upward, letting the starlight wash over your skin like liquid silver. 'If I am to be Queen,' you declare, your voice carrying across the trembling cliffs, 'then let the stars themselves show me another way!' The words ignite something deep in the celestial vault above. Suddenly, every star in the night sky begins to streak downward, not as falling meteors but as luminous threads weaving an intricate tapestry in the air around you.

The three traditional guides stumble back as the threads form a shimmering cocoon of constellations. Within this living nebula, new figures take shape—a chorus of star-born entities with forms too fluid for mortal comprehension. Their voices harmonize in a sound like galaxies spinning, offering visions of paths untrodden: a bridge of comet tails leading westward, a doorway carved from a dead star's core pulsing beneath your feet, and an inverted staircase rising into the event horizon of the suddenly visible Milky Way.

The Starlight Crown fractures into seven separate rings that orbit your head, each humming a distinct musical note. The High Priestess collapses to her knees, her ceremonial headdress unraveling into streams of astral dust. 'The Cosmic Choir...' she gasps. 'They haven't manifested since the First Queen's ascension!'

Beneath your bare feet, the cliff transforms into a mosaic of living constellations, each tile depicting forgotten rites from civilizations that worshipped these very stars epochs ago. The Moonweaver's hands fly to her mouth as she recognizes patterns even her ancient lineage never recorded.