Lyra The Healer

The moons slowly drifted apart, their radiant alignment fading into a gentle glow across the sky. The energy in the Vale of Mirrors softened, the air no longer thrumming with danger but humming with promise. The land, once cracked and cursed, began to heal.

Flowers bloomed where the shadows had fallen.

The obsidian monolith, now inert, stood like a gravestone to what had nearly been unleashed.

And at the heart of it all stood Lyra, her silver pendant pulsing gently, her staff no longer a weapon, but a beacon of light.

The war was over.

But something greater had begun.

They spent days rebuilding what had been broken.

Elian used their shadow magic to cleanse the last corrupted roots buried beneath the soil. Nyra rekindled flame in the sacred groves of Solara, bringing warmth to the land once again. Kael stood watch as always, his presence steady and grounding. And Lyra… Lyra walked among the people, her touch gentle, her song soft and full of healing.

Word of what had happened in the Vale spread quickly.

The Moonborn were no longer feared. They were revered.

But Lyra didn't care for glory.

She cared for peace.

One evening, as the moons rose once more—each glowing in their own place across the sky—Lyra stood at the edge of the Crescent Forest. The same spot where her journey had begun.

Her grandmother sat beside her, wrapped in her woven shawl, eyes filled with tears of pride.

"You've done what no one thought possible," the elder whispered. "You brought balance where there was only chaos."

Lyra shook her head gently. "I just listened. To the moons. To the world. To the pain."

Her grandmother nodded. "And that's why the moons chose you."

Behind them, the others approached—Nyra laughing softly, Elian quiet but content, Kael watching Lyra like she was the only light he'd ever known.

They stood together, the four of them, not as heroes.

But as harmony.

As Solara's new guardians.

Before the night ended, Lyra lifted her staff one final time and whispered a vow.

"To protect the balance.

To listen to the song.

To never forget that light and shadow are not enemies, but echoes of one another."

And somewhere in the sky, the Silver Moon shimmered in reply.