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They carried it back. The builders, whose arms ached from real, simulated labor, fitted the Heart into the Sunstone. The crack sealed. The crystal glowed a steady, peaceful orange.
“If this spreads,” Kwahe whispered, tapping the stone with a bone, “the berry bushes will sour. The fish will swim to the other side of the world.”
Deep within the cave, they found the Heart of the Mountain: a glowing, warm geode. Not a flashy, particle-effect-laden prize. Just a rock that hummed.
