It was the Spelljammer, reborn into a pure, untouched universe, formed by an unknown set of physical laws. Perhaps it was a new dimension. Perhaps the Spelljammer had reappeared in a sphere far larger than any other in the known universe. Perhaps…
The Cloakmaster felt himself smile, though he was ethereal now, his body one with that of the Spelljammer. Wherever they were, this was their universe, their creation, a broad plain of wildspace that stretched out before them, beckoning to be explored. Out there, on the fringes of his senses, he felt something waiting for them, singing its own song in this place of discovery. There were magnificent cities-there had to be; he could touch them with his soul-floating between suns. Swimmers sailed the seas of space, basking in the warmth of stars. Minds called to him with their need, their yearning, to dream.
There was life.
The Cloakmaster understood it all then, the purpose of the Spelljammer and the interweaving of so many destinies: the Spelljammer creating life; the new life spreading out and creating its own wonders, finding its own dreams, creating its own Spelljammers its own realities, spreading magic and wonder of life everywhere.
Its purpose, written by the Architects when the universe was young, was clear: The Spelljammer must not pay penance for its innocent crime, but find purpose in life, its own life.
To create, discover, teach, show, renew, restore, and live.
The simple life he had known before was long gone. The past was past, and the universe of his birth was just a dim vision in a spyglass, forever too distant for him to reach. This place, this universe… this was untouched, virginal, he felt. This was his to explore, his to create. Part of him sang with joy at his new birth, at the wonder of his destiny; and part of him wept at the worlds that were now forever lost.
— Verenthestae, the Spelljammer said. -It means far more than the interweaving of destiny. It is a concept that has survived the millennia, originating from an ancient tongue from the Broken Sphere. Tru'vaer. It means also…
The Spelljammer sang into the void. Its new, crystalline body glowed with the light of innocence. Its veins flowed with the power of galaxies, and its song rang through his heart, unwrapping the now useless layers of humanity that Teldin Moore, the Cloakmaster, had held onto like precious gems, and exposing the blinding light of his soul.
And in the bearing of his soul, he felt what verenthestae meant, though words could only approximate its true meaning.
— let the light of the soul shine forth and be revealed.
— Let the song of the soul spread truth into darkness.
— Let those apart he brought together.
— Know thyself.
— Seek…
— Love…
— Cherish life…
— And do not yield.
He blazed with the light of a star. The heart of the Spelljammer burned with Teldin's soul, and their song was absorbed into the fires of a newly created sun.
The Spelljammer banked lazily, away from the spiraling system of dust clouds and gases. The emptiness of the void stretched far ahead, into eternity, and the Spelljammer sang into it, waiting for the distant day that its song of life would finally be answered and the wonders that it had seen across the void would be shared.