Lira's eyes fluttered open—or at least, a semblance of her consciousness did. The world around her was not the crystal crater, not the Grove, not even the familiar forests. Instead, she floated in a dense, shimmering fog that glimmered with rainbow hues. Every step she took sank slightly into the soft, misty ground, like walking on clouds made of liquid light.
Colors swirled in impossible ways—pinks bleeding into violet, greens twisting into golds, streaks of silver that glimmered like distant stars. Shapes emerged and disappeared, half-real, half-imagination: towers of mist that bent sideways, floating pools of iridescent liquid, and shadows that flickered in and out of sight.
A soft, almost musical hum vibrated through the air, pulling her forward. The giant crystal sphere was somewhere ahead—or was it behind? She could not tell. Every instinct urged her to step toward it, but the mist shifted around her feet, closing paths, bending directions.
