You choose the path of isolation and protection – just as your N'hava ancestors did in times of great change. Over several nights, you work tirelessly to strengthen the barriers around Kolob. The Heartstone's energy flows through your hands as you reinforce ancient wards and create new ones, weaving layers of protection both physical and mystical.

The crystalline formations throughout the territory pulse with renewed power. You activate old N'hava defenses that have lain dormant for centuries: subtle misdirections in the landscape, areas where time seems to flow strangely, paths that loop back on themselves. The very land seems to shift, making sacred sites harder to find or approach.

The effects become apparent quickly. The Native elder attempts to approach the Underground Lake but finds himself turned around, emerging from the forest far from his intended destination. You watch from shadows as he performs rituals of his own, acknowledging the territory's rejection of his presence. There's respect in his gestures as he retreats, but also sadness – as if watching another piece of sacred knowledge fade from the world.

The young woman's sketches become confused, filled with landscapes that seem to change between viewings. The professor's instruments malfunction near your enhanced barriers, his scientific certainty eroding against forces he can't explain. Even the religious leaders find their interpretations challenged by the increasing inaccessibility of the sites they sought to protect.

But through the Life Stream, you sense something unexpected. The very strength of your isolation creates a kind of beacon – a signal to others who might be drawn to such powerful protections. The Heartstone's resonance warns of attention from far away, perhaps from those who seek ancient power precisely because it is so well guarded.

You've chosen the path of the solitary guardian, maintaining the purity of your vigil. But in doing so, you may have marked Kolob as something even more worthy of discovery.