A few hours before dawn broke through the skies, a sound sliced through the dim, elegant chamber. Thick layers of magic that had just been reinforced several hours before melted off, conceding before the presence of its maker. Clear footsteps echoed throughout as the floor reflected a certain slender silhouette. The man carried a floating ice crystal, glowing a bright hue, levitating above his soft palm. Slowly, the light he brought blended with the gradual bluish glow in front of him.
The youth looked to be bathed in moonlight. Long, wavy strands glistened like sharp, silvery tendrils of light. Moulin stood before the enhanced pedestal at the center of the chamber. His calm expression, akin to the beauteous countenance of the stronghold's collected statues, faced the light before him.
The Chrysolite roused from its trance, grew brightly without activating the rest of the enchantments in the room as though.
'It bears your essence.'
