You returned the sphere to the guardians

You take a slow, steady breath. The sphere's light pulses softly in your hands, warm and rhythmic - like a living thing. Around you, the chamber hums - a low, resonant sound that feels almost like a heartbeat deep within the stone. Dust trickles from the ceiling as the statues shift in place, their faceless heads tilted down toward you at the center of the room.

The obsidian statue, The One Who Guarded, stands nearest. Its black surface glistens faintly in the sphere's glow, polished and impossibly smooth. Its outstretched hands remain steady, patient. You step forward, your soft boots silent upon the stone floor.

As you approach, the light within the sphere brightens, and the hum becomes a layered chord - five tones in harmony, one coming from each guardian. You feel something unfurl in your chest - a mix of dread and peace, as if a decision made long, long ago is finally being completed through you.

You pause only a moment longer before lifting the sphere high, whispering "This, I think, belongs to you."

The moment the sphere touches the obsidian palms, the world changes.

Light bursts outward, flooding the chamber in gold and silver. The air feels heavy, and you stagger backwards as the statue straightens, no longer rigid stone but a towering being of shadow. Its form wavers, flickering between human and something older - armor and memory.

The voice that follows isn't heard so much as felt: "The Keeper restores what was lost. The seal endures."

The other statues awaken in turn. The marble figure bows. The bronze sings a single resonant note. The basalt strikes the stone floor with its fist. The glass-like guardian tils its head toward you, the faint crack on its cheek glowing brightly before sealing - healing - itself shut.

A sources gust of wins rushes through the chamber - it carries the scent of clean air, rain, and something bittersweet, like the last breath of a forgotten song.

The sphere dissolves into light, drawn into the obsidian statue. The runes along the floor and walls dim, their tasks complete. One by one, the guardian statues return to stillness. Their faces remain featureless, but you sense something watching - a silent gratitude. 

The hum fades. The silence that follows is soft, peaceful. As the light recedes, you see that the chest as turned to dust. The water that once flowed backward now trickles calmly toward a newly opened passage behind the dais.