The white fire receded, not gone, but settled—woven into every star, every stone, every breath of wind. The void became sky. The shallow waters rippled outward, spreading into rivers and oceans that gleamed with sunlight not seen since the Erdtree first rose.
The Lands Between stirred.
Where rot once festered, the flame of their Lord burned it clean, leaving soil fertile and strong. Where death had withered, life sprouted anew, for the Rune of Destined Death no longer lingered in chains, but flowed freely in balance with life. Where ambition had broken kingdoms and shattered kin, the Ring's harmony bound the world together—not by fear, nor divine command, but by the quiet, immovable presence of their new God.
The Erdtree stood still, but it no longer ruled alone. Its golden glow was joined by another light—white, pure, and steady. The flame of their Lord wreathed its roots, not to consume, but to balance, ensuring it would never again grow unchecked.
The people awoke to an Age unlike any other.
Knights of once-warring banners bent knee in unison, their swords lowered to the ground. Sorcerers felt the stars above burn brighter, their glimmer tied to a greater order that surpassed their narrow schools of thought. Even the tarnished remnants of old gods—their shrines, their idols, their silent prayers—fell still. For there was no need of them.
At the heart of the new order, he stood. Not aloof, not unreachable, but present—his Sunlight Flame woven into every corner of the realm. He did not speak, nor thunder down commands. He was there in the warmth of dawn, in the blaze of the forge, in the firelit hearths of peasants and kings alike.
The mortals whispered his name with reverence not because they were compelled, but because they chose to. For their God was once as they were: flesh, blood, and fallibility. He had walked their path, fought their wars, and endured their suffering. And in his ascension, he carried them with him.
The Age of Sunlight had begun.
An age where life and death met in equal measure, where flame and shadow stood balanced, where no god above could claim dominion over man. An age not of endless war, nor blind submission, but of choice, strength, and balance.
The flame burned eternal, white and unrelenting, yet never cruel.
And the world, for the first time since the shattering, was whole.