450 Alabaster Phalanx

Sunny stepped into the patch of mangled obsidian and slowly approached the alabaster phalanx, then kneeled beside it and lingered, studying its golden shine.

He was trying to determine if any sign of the harrowing rot remained, but also felt pulled toward the radiant bone and found it hard to look away.

'All of this insanity, just for that little piece of bone. What secrets does it hold?'

He hesitated for a moment, then reached down and picked up the phalanx.

Sunny had instinctively expected it to crumble into a torrent of white sparks and hear the Spell proclaim that he had acquired a new Memory, just like what had happened with Weaver's Mask… that Memory being, perhaps, another Drop of Ichor.

But nothing of the sort happened.

The bone felt cold and smooth to the touch. There was still marrow inside, wet and infused with bright golden radiance. Sunny tilted his head, stumped. What was he supposed to do now?