The mission to awaken the polar World-Heart Shard was Valeria's domain. She, Vaktari, and a team of Crystalline engineers and awakened Vakhas geomancers traveled to the frozen southern pole in the Dawn Chaser's auxiliary shuttle.
The shard was buried under miles of glacial ice in a location of such intense cold that even the air crystallized. The team set up a resonant heating array, using a focused beam of energy from the main Living Stone shard to gently melt a tunnel downwards.
As they descended, Valeria walked beside Vaktari. "Mother of Dawn," Valeria addressed her with the formal title, "what do you expect to find? The records of the Diaspora speak of these shards as… anchors. But for what?"
Vaktari's luminous form flickered with memory. "Our ancestors were not just star-farers, Valeria. We were Weavers. We did not conquer planets; we harmonized with them, weaving our energy into their natural ley lines to create stable, paradise-like biospheres. The shards were the looms. The Fall… was when the pattern was torn."
They reached a vast, cavernous space beneath the ice. In its center, larger than the one in the Under-River, was a colossal World-Heart Shard. It was not dark, but frozen in a state of suspended animation, covered in a sheath of glowing, blue-white ice.
"It is in hibernation," Valeria observed, her crystalline senses extending. "The planet's trauma forced it to sleep to preserve its last spark."
"Then we must wake it gently," Vaktari said. "With a memory of warmth."
Together, the ancient star-daughter and the crystalline ambassador placed their hands on the ice. Valeria channeled the structured, beautiful song of the Diaspora—a memory of ordered stars and cosmic harmony. Vaktari channeled the wilder, more emotional memory of Arthoje itself—of forests, rivers, and the love of her Earth-King.
The ice did not melt. It blossomed. It transformed from a solid barrier into millions of fractal, flower-like crystals that fell away, tinkling like wind chimes. The shard within awoke.
Light, not of a single color, but of the entire aurora spectrum, flooded the cavern. Images, clearer and more potent than before, flashed:
· A network of glowing lines connecting all the shards across the planet—a planetary nervous system.
· A great, silver ship (like Vaktari's) seeding these shards as it fled a cataclysm of black spheres that consumed light and life.
· A final, desperate command locked in the shard's core: "TO THE HEIRS: REKNIT THE WEB. THE DEVOURER STIRS."
The vision ended. The polar shard now glowed with a steady, warm light, and instantly, the geomancers reported a surge of vitality in the planet's southern ley lines. The ice outside began to subtly recede, and strange, heat-loving moss started to grow on the cavern walls.
But the message was chilling.
"The Devourer…"Valeria whispered. "The Diaspora has legends. A force from outside our galaxy. The cause of the original Fall."
Vaktari looked grim. "The empire was a sickness. Malakor was a symptom. This… 'Devourer'… may be the disease."
They returned to Dawnspire with world-altering news and a new, galactic-scale threat on the horizon.