Kneeling at the lake's edge, you reach toward the mirrored surface where a particularly bright star twinkles just below your fingertips. As your fingers break the water's perfect stillness, the star comes away like a plucked fruit, resting cool and heavy in your palm. Up close, it's not a sphere of light but a multifaceted gem - no, a living thing - pulsing with its own slow breath. Tiny flares dance across its surface in patterns that form and unform before your eyes.

The Moonweaver kneels beside you, her reflection rippling in the disturbed water. 'That one has watched civilizations rise and fall,' she says, tracing the star's edges with one pale finger. 'It remembers when kings were gods and gods were lonely.' The star suddenly flares hot, searing an intricate mark into your palm before dissolving into silver mist that curls upward to form words in a language you've never seen yet somehow understand: 'All crowns are circles.'

On the cliff far below, the Starlight Crown shudders violently, one of its seven gem points cracking with a sound like breaking ice. The High Priestess cries out as moonbeams erupt from the fracture, illuminating terrified faces in the crowd. The Voidwalker steps forward, their shadow stretching unnaturally toward the sky where your stolen star once hung - now revealing an empty patch of darkness that seems to stare back hungrily.

The Moonweaver grips your wrist suddenly, her nails biting cold. 'What have you done?' she whispers, not in anger but fearful awe. The lake beneath you begins to freeze outward from where you kneel, trapping glimpses of other worlds beneath its crystalline surface - a city of floating lanterns, a desert where sand falls upward, a throne room with no walls.