In the ancient days of Arda, when shadow and flame wove the fate of all, there was born from the shattered flame of a Silmaril a light unlike any other — EndaLith. Neither wholly stone nor fully spirit, it bore the essence of hope distilled, a beacon amid the fading twilight.

Its crystalline scales captured the scattered hues of the world’s first dawn, and within its breast lay a jewel, fractured yet unbroken, where the tides of sorrow and grace met. To the Eldar, EndaLith was the echo of the lost light, the promise that no shadow could ever fully consume.

Men found in its presence a balm for weary hearts, and Dwarves sought to unravel the mysteries bound within its radiant core. Yet none could deny its enduring power — a flame that, though tempered by the weight of ages, burned ever bright.

The Valar watched with silent hope, for in EndaLith’s glow lay the key to breaking ancient bonds and mending the broken world. It was the last breath of light — a sacred ember destined to kindle the dawn anew.