The first of the Primarchs stepped forward.
A lithe woman with a crown of coiling hair touched one of the floating crimson-gold cubes- specifically, a cube with a rune marker that never remained still. It flickered like a snake on glass, its runic triangle constantly shifting.
And for a flicker of a moment, Noah's eyes narrowed as he parsed the meaning.
Cold.
Something buried beneath the surface of frost. Of stillness. Of ancient glacial ruin.
Or so he believed from what he could decipher.
The moment the Primarch's hand met the cube, it pulsed.
BOOM!
The crimson-gold light exploded into her chest like a heartbeat made of ice and radiance. She stumbled a step, then steadied herself with wide eyes.
Noah caught the expression. Euphoria. Surprise.
The other two Primarchs moved quickly.
Each chose a cube and touched it, their selections less chaotic, more instinctive.
Light streamed from the cubes, curling into their chests with sharp flashes.
