Night had given way to a day that shimmered with the weight of prophecy. In the early hours, as the first blush of dawn painted the sky in hues of rose and gold, the founders gathered once more in the Hall of Remembrance. The crystalline shard, still pulsating with an ethereal glow, had been a silent sentinel of their recent trials, yet now it seemed to hum with a new urgency—a prelude to destinies converging beyond the familiar city walls.
Liam stood at the tall arched window, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains where storm clouds brewed like celestial armies. The sight stirred within him an echo of ancient legends—of times when the heavens themselves would speak to those who dared listen. "The omens intensify," he murmured, his voice a blend of hope and apprehension. "Beyond our borders, the celestial whispers call us to a gathering of fate."