Celestial Infusion (Blue) rests in the palm of a scavenger’s hand like a fragment of night sky pressed into glass. It is a small capsule, perhaps the size of a coin, wrapped in a delicate azure sheath that shivers with every breath. The surface is smooth and cool, a mirror of dawn-lit frost, yet within it a soft, shifting nebula glows—a lazy swirl of cobalt, lavender, and star-silver that never settles. When you tilt it toward the flame, the blue light crawls along the edges, tracing constellations that seem almost real enough to glimpse through a window into another hour. The lore-wrought engravings along its rim resemble a map of fallen stars, a reminder that even gear can carry memory. In the stories whispered around campfires, Celestial infusions are not mere trinkets; they are blessings pressed into form, designed to harmonize with gear touched by the heavens. Artisans speak of star-scribes who bound luck and discipline to metal, so wearers could endure long nights on the frontier. As a result, blue-infused items are favored by those who hunt conditions as much as foes: ballads of frost and light share a shelf with the practicalities of field repairs, and a tempered blade can hum with quiet constellations when the infusion is mounted just so. The item’s significance in gameplay is less about brute numbers and more about balance and storytelling. A Celestial Infusion (Blue) slots into the infusion-ready gear, inviting a patient, almost ritual, shaping of survivability and aura. It lends a touch of celestial resonance that can smooth out rough edges during a perilous ascent—less chaos, more cohesion—as if the wearer learns to ride the night rather than fear it. Healers and scouts, crafters and couriers, all can make use of its quiet glow to stabilize their rolls and recover that sense of probability that heroes thrive on. It is not the loudest power, but the way the blue light threads through a set of armor or jewelry that makes the difference, tying together runes, sigils, and the wearer’s resolve in the same moment. Markets in the hinterlands are fond of such pieces, and you will hear a trader speak of the Celestial Infusion (Blue) with a half-smile, as if it knows a secret the world cannot bear to forget. At Saddlebag Exchange, the price hops with the weather: a handful of copper on a slow afternoon, a few silver when caravans cross the desert, perhaps a glint of gold if a rare buyer arrives. It is not a fortune, but it is a promise, a way to bind a person’s fate to something larger than their own hands. And so the blue capsule passes from hand to hand, like a small star fallen onto a market stall, waiting for someone who will place it into a helm, a shield, or a coat, and listen to what the night wants to teach them. Some nights, the glow seems to answer, guiding a cautious traveler toward safer paths and brighter futures.