The Cradle Seed of Elements materialized in front of him, and Leon stared at it.
Not a seed. Not even close to a seed. The name had built an expectation that the object would immediately be demolished — what floated before him was closer to an orb, crystalline, roughly the size of his closed fist, cycling through every color he could name and several he didn't have names for in a slow, continuous shift with no pattern and no repetition.
Deep violet bleeding into gold, ocean-blue threading through something that existed more as the impression of a color than the color itself, greens and reds and whites and blacks all present simultaneously without any of them canceling the others out.
