The crystalline platform rose silently, a bubble of calm in the psychic storm of the Spire of Dreams. The battle with their own dark reflections was over. Rhys and Emma had faced their inner demons and had emerged stronger, more complete. He had accepted the cold, lonely void within him, and she had embraced the power of her own human heart. The new sense of wholeness was a quiet, steady strength, a foundation that felt far more solid than any simple increase in Qi ever could.
The platform came to a smooth, silent stop. They had reached the top of the spire.
The chamber they entered was different from the others. It was not a vast, empty room. It was a grand, circular hall, and it was not empty. In the center of the hall, on a raised, circular dais, was a single, massive, throne-like chair made of the same pearlescent, organic material as the city's walls.
