The Spire.
A charged conglomerate of blue crystals crackling with pure magicka that has only accumulated over the years; it is massive in scale, looming over the expanse of Polaris like a shining sentinel. It is the core, the heart. The reservoir.
So it would not be uncommon to find magic returning to it, such as that housed within the body of one such Titanium Quartz.
The closeness would make a host feel sick, to be in the presence of so much pure energy—but to touch it, to come in contact with the great mass of magicka housed within the reservoir... few have made this mistake, and most were dead now. Either from their own afflictions they could not recover from, their illnesses unable to regenerate within the proximity of the Spire, or just from being foolish or unlucky.
In the distance stood the ancient Ruby, watching with hard eyes. It might have stepped out and said something, but it considered too that it was interested to see what kind of learning experience this might be.
As for the Titanium Quartz, the moment it landed and struggled to haul itself up—sickness. Overwhelming sickness. A splitting headache, the urge but failing to retch—unable to do so without a stomach, and the pain in its eyes at the brightness of the glowing crystals.
The Spire hummed and sparked at the location. Hungry.
A faint smile touched the Ruby's lips. "All energy that comes from the reservoir returns to the reservoir." Was it calling that of the Titanium Quartz back into it? How far would the Titanium Quartz try to climb, given the side effects of the physical contact?