The moment Deirdre crossed the threshold, reality shifted so dramatically that her senses reeled. The air itself seemed alive against her skin, dense with a magic so raw and potent it stole her breath. Colors she had no name for flooded her vision, and sounds that seemed to bypass her ears resonated directly in her mind. Her every perception stretched, expanded, struggled to encompass the impossible landscape of the Source.

  Before her stretched a world that defied all logic. Towering crystalline spires rose like frozen lightning, their translucent structures catching the ambient light and fracturing it into kaleidoscopic patterns. They should have collapsed under their own impossible geometries, and yet they stood—some floating entirely free of the ground, others curving at angles that mocked gravity itself.

  The ground beneath her feet was carpeted with luminous emerald moss that pulsed with visible energy, each ripple traveling outward in perfect concentric circles from where she stood. The moss varied in height and thickness, in some places forming delicate patterns like lacework, in others rising in pillowy mounds that seemed to breathe with gentle undulation.

  Above, the sky was a storm-dark canvas webbed with constant forks of violet lightning, though no thunder followed their jagged dance. The bolts struck the tallest crystalline formations occasionally, not damaging them but rather causing them to flare with renewed brilliance, as though feeding on the energy. Despite the appearance of a thunderstorm, no rain fell—the atmosphere remained intensely dry, crackling with static electricity.

  Most unsettling of all were the fractures—ragged tears in the landscape where the ground simply... ended. Beyond these edges yawned absolute nothingness, a void so complete that Deirdre's mind struggled to process it. The chasms weren't merely dark; they were an absence, places where reality itself seemed to have been torn away, leaving nothing but a profound emptiness that pulled at her consciousness like a physical force.

  Orsafi trembled on her shoulder, the carbuncle's gem glowing with unprecedented brilliance. Her usual cheerful chirps had transformed into a complex melody Deirdre had never heard before—part trill, part keening wail, as though the little creature recognized this place on some primal level.

  "It's... beautiful," Deirdre whispered, though the word felt woefully inadequate. "And terrifying."

  She turned to look back at the doorway they had passed through. It remained visible, a reassuring rectangle of normalcy framing the familiar stone walls of the Exchange's ancient archive. The key still protruded from its lock, a tether to the world she knew. Part of her wanted to rush back through it, to return to the comfortable certainties she had always known.

  Instead, she took another step forward, and another, drawn deeper into the Source by an inexplicable sense of both wonder and recognition.

  As Deirdre ventured farther from the doorway, the alien nature of the Source became even more pronounced. The physics she had known all her life no longer seemed to apply consistently. Sometimes she felt significantly lighter, almost floating with each step. Other times gravity seemed to pull more strongly, making her legs work harder to move forward. These shifts occurred without warning, forcing her to constantly readjust her movements.

  Her newfound sensitivity to Domain magic had magnified exponentially here. What had been a subtle awareness in the Exchange—a gentle hum in her chest, a faint perception of currents—was now overwhelmingly vivid. Magic flowed visibly through the air in streams of colored light, eddying and swirling like currents in a vast ocean. The streams were not random; they possessed a structure, a pattern she could almost grasp if she focused long enough. Some flowed toward the distant horizon, others spiraled upward to meet the lightning, and still others dove into the ground itself.

  "Do you see this, Orsafi?" she murmured, though she knew the question was rhetorical. The carbuncle's gem pulsed in perfect rhythm with the nearest flow of magic, suggesting a connection deeper than mere observation.

  As they moved deeper into the landscape, Deirdre noticed what appeared to be fragments of other Domains—small islands of foreign reality floating within the Source like bubbles suspended in water. One contained a small copse of trees unlike any she had ever seen, with bark of burnished gold and leaves that seemed to be made of glass. Another held what looked like a miniature desert, complete with dunes that shifted despite the absence of wind. These fragments ranged in size from no larger than a room to the size of small buildings, each one perfectly self-contained and yet visibly connected to the Source by tendrils of that same flowing, colored light.

  Fascinated, Deirdre approached one such fragment—a floating puddle of water that somehow remained intact despite having no visible container. The liquid within rippled with its own internal currents, and tiny, luminescent fish darted back and forth, unconcerned by their impossible habitat.

  So engrossed was she in this marvel that she failed to notice the ground changing beneath her feet. It was Orsafi's sudden, urgent chirp that snapped her attention downward. A spiderweb of cracks had formed in the emerald moss, expanding outward from where she stood. Even as she registered the danger, the ground began to crumble, revealing one of the yawning void chasms opening directly beneath her.

  Acting on instinct, Deirdre threw herself backward just as the last of the solid ground gave way. She landed hard on her back, the breath knocked from her lungs, staring in horror at the perfect nothingness where she had stood mere seconds before. Orsafi had leapt clear as well, the carbuncle's small form trembling as she peered cautiously at the edge.

  "That was too close," Deirdre gasped when she could breathe again. Her heart hammered against her ribs, adrenaline flooding her system. The Source wasn't just strange and wondrous—it was actively dangerous, with hazards that could appear without warning. "We need to be more careful."

  Shaken but determined, she rose to her feet, giving the newly formed chasm a wide berth. Despite the danger—or perhaps because of it—she felt compelled to continue. There was an order to this chaos, a purpose she could sense but not yet comprehend. She needed to understand this place, to unravel its mysteries.

  Using her heightened sensitivity, Deirdre focused on the flowing currents of magic. Some felt stronger than others, more defined, as though they were major arteries in the circulatory system of this world. One such current ran directly away from her, deeper into the Source, pulsing with a compelling rhythm. Trusting her instincts, she began to follow it, moving with far more caution now, testing each step before committing her weight.

  Orsafi rejoined her, keeping close to her ankles rather than riding on her shoulder. The carbuncle's gem glowed steadily, providing additional illumination as they made their way forward.

  As they followed the magical current, Deirdre noticed the landscape gradually changing. The flow of magic grew more concentrated, the scattered streams merging into larger rivers of energy. The random distribution of crystalline spires gave way to more ordered formations, creating what almost looked like pathways or avenues. Most significantly, the fractures and chasms became less frequent, the ground more stable beneath her feet.

  The sense of danger didn't diminish—if anything, the concentrated magic made the air feel even more charged with potential—but it became more predictable, less chaotic. Something lay at the heart of all this power, and she was drawing closer to it with every step.

  After what might have been minutes or hours—time itself seemed fluid in this place—the landscape opened up before her. The magical current she had been following joined with countless others, all flowing toward a central point where a structure rose like a cathedral from the otherwise flat terrain.

  "Oh," Deirdre breathed, the simple syllable carrying a weight of awe.

  The structure defied easy description. It appeared to be made entirely of the same crystalline material as the spires, but on a vastly greater scale and with an impossible complexity. It seemed both grown and constructed, with spiraling towers that twisted upward to meet the lightning-laced sky and sweeping arches that cradled pulsing nodes of pure magical energy. The entire cathedral-like formation hummed with power that Deirdre could feel in her bones, resonating with the steady beat in her chest.

  As she approached, what had appeared to be solid crystal walls revealed themselves to be intricate lattices, thousands of delicate strands woven together with impossible precision. Light moved through these lattices in complex patterns, creating an ever-changing tapestry of color and shadow across the ground.

  Deirdre expected to search for an entrance, but as she drew near, the latticework simply... rearranged itself, strands shifting position to create an archway precisely her height. The invitation was unmistakable.

  With Orsafi padding silently beside her, Deirdre stepped through the newly formed entrance, into the heart of the Source.

  The interior of the crystal cathedral expanded far beyond what its exterior suggested, a space so vast that Deirdre couldn't make out its boundaries. The ceiling—or what should have been a ceiling—opened directly to the storm-dark sky, violet lightning occasionally illuminating the chamber in brief, dazzling flashes. The walls were not walls in any conventional sense but rather an endlessly complex fractal pattern of crystal, each segment containing perfect miniatures of the whole, creating a disorienting sense of infinite recursion.

  At the center of this impossible space stood a raised dais where all the visible currents of magic converged. The platform appeared to be composed of the same crystal as everything else, but darker, almost obsidian in its depth, shot through with veins of luminescent blue that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  And upon this dais...

  Deirdre's breath caught in her throat. A being—if such a word could apply—hovered several feet above the platform. Its form was barely humanoid, a suggestion of limbs and torso and head rather than defined features, composed entirely of the same energy as the violet lightning that scarred the sky outside. The entity flickered and pulsed, its outline constantly shifting between solid and ethereal, like a flame struggling to maintain its shape in a strong wind.

  Even in this state of obvious distress, the being radiated such power that Deirdre felt herself instinctively sinking to her knees. This was not a gesture of worship but of simple necessity—her legs simply would not continue to support her in the presence of such concentrated energy. Orsafi pressed against her side, the carbuncle's small body vibrating with a tension Deirdre could feel.

  For what felt like an eternity, Deirdre knelt in silence, unable to find words. What did one say to such a being? How did one even begin?

  She didn't have to decide. A voice filled her mind—not through her ears but directly into her consciousness, bypassing ordinary sensation. It carried no gender, no age, but resonated with ancient power and profound weariness.

  You have come.

  The words weren't threatening, but neither were they particularly welcoming. They simply acknowledged her presence, as one might note the changing of seasons.

  Deirdre swallowed hard. "I... yes. I found a key. In the Exchange."

  She didn't need to explain what the Exchange was; somehow she knew this being would understand.

  I know not what you call it, the voice replied. But I sense the fragment you come from - the first to stabilize after the Fracturing.

  "I come from a place called the Exchange," Deirdre offered. "Are you... are you the Guardian?"

  The question formed in her mind without conscious thought, drawing on knowledge she hadn't realized she possessed. The being's form flickered more intensely, what might have been a nod of acknowledgment.

  I am what remains of the Guardian, the voice replied, a note of profound sadness coloring the words. Once, I was more. Now, I am fading.

  As if to illustrate this statement, the being's form briefly destabilized entirely, collapsing into disparate motes of energy before painfully reforming. Deirdre felt an unexpected surge of grief at the sight.

  You are different, the Guardian observed, its attention focusing on her with tangible intensity. You have touched Domain magic directly. You have channeled it. Stabilized it.

  It wasn't a question, but Deirdre nodded anyway. "In the Witchlight Fens, yes. And later, in a fractured Domain. The ruined tower—"

  I felt it, the Guardian interrupted. That moment of healing. It has been... centuries since I sensed such harmony with the flow. You did this instinctively?

  "I used a key," Deirdre explained, her hand rising to touch the artifact still hanging around her neck. "It seemed to know what to do. I just... followed its lead."

  The Guardian's form shifted again, contracting slightly as though drawing closer for inspection. No human has shown such affinity since before the Fracturing. This is... unexpected.

  "The Fracturing?" Deirdre echoed, the term resonating with the ancient texts she had read in the archive. "You mean when the Source shattered? When the Domains were created?"

  A sound like distant thunder rolled through her mind—perhaps the Guardian's equivalent of bitter laughter.

  Created. As though it were intentional. No, Collector. The Domains were not created. They were the result of catastrophe.

  The air around them shimmered, and suddenly Deirdre found herself surrounded by images—not physical projections but direct impressions in her mind, so vivid they overwhelmed her actual vision. She saw the Source as it once was—a unified realm of breathtaking beauty and harmony. The crystalline structures were still there, but pristine and complete, the moss a vibrant carpet unbroken by fractures or chasms, the sky clear and filled with impossible celestial bodies.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Then came the Fracturing. Deirdre witnessed great energies unleashed, forces beyond comprehension tearing through the fabric of reality itself. The unified Source splintered like shattered glass, fragments spinning away into newly formed voids. Lightning—the same violet energy that now permanently scarred the sky—erupted from the fracture points, raw magic exposed to emptiness.

  The vision showed the Guardian—then far stronger, its form solid and defined—struggling to contain the damage. In a desperate act, it divided its own essence, sending fragments of its power with each major piece of the breaking realm. These fragments took on their own identities, becoming the Domain Lords that Deirdre knew existed in various Domains she had visited.

  The images faded, leaving Deirdre shaking with the emotional impact of witnessing such destruction. The Guardian seemed to have weakened further from the effort of sharing the vision, its form now more translucent than solid.

  The Domains are not separate worlds, it explained, voice fainter than before. They are broken pieces of a single reality. And they continue to drift apart. With each passing century, the connections grow weaker. Eventually, they will become so isolated that they will collapse entirely.

  "Is that why the Domains are becoming unstable?" Deirdre asked, thinking of the fractured Domain she had helped stabilize. "Because they're drifting too far from the Source?"

  Yes. The Guardian's form flickered again, taking longer to reconstitute this time. Without connection to the Source, a Domain cannot maintain its integrity indefinitely. Some adapt better than others. Some have Domain Lords who understand what is happening and work to preserve their fragments. Others do not.

  "And the Exchange?" Deirdre asked. "The place I come from...is it a Domain too?"

  There is a fragment that stabilized first, the Guardian said. It became a gathering place for many who survived the Fracturing. I cannot see into it clearly now - it has been sealed from my sight for too long. But I sense it holds a pivotal position among the fragments.

  The Guardian's form dimmed noticeably. In the beginning, there were those who understood the need for connection, who worked to maintain pathways between fragments, to prevent further drift. But over time, many forgot. Or chose to forget. The truth of the Fracturing. The purpose of those connections. The need for eventual reunification.

  "Reunification?" Deirdre echoed, startled by the concept. "You mean... bringing the Domains back together? Is that even possible?"

  It was always the intention, the Guardian replied. The separation was never meant to be permanent. But some grew to prefer the isolation. To see advantage in it. Control became more desirable than harmony.

  The being's form wavered again, and this time portions of it simply dissipated into the air, tiny motes of energy that floated away before the Guardian visibly struggled to draw them back.

  I am failing, it admitted, voice now hardly more than a whisper in Deirdre's mind. For millennia I have maintained what remains of the Source, prevented further fragmentation, kept open the possibility of healing. But my strength wanes. Without intervention, all will eventually collapse—the Source and all its scattered fragments.

  "What can be done?" Deirdre asked, rising to her feet, an unaccountable sense of urgency filling her. "How can this be fixed?"

  The fragments must be reconnected. The fracture points must be healed. The flow of energy must be restored to its natural state.

  "But how? Who can do that?"

  The Guardian did not answer directly. Its form wavered, particles of energy drifting away before being painfully reabsorbed.

  You have shown an affinity for the currents of Source energy, it said finally. The way you channeled it to stabilize that fractured Domain...

  Deirdre frowned. "But that was just following the key's guidance. I didn't really understand what I was doing—"

  Not all disruptions come from within a Domain, the Guardian continued. Some come from those who prefer the current arrangement. Those who benefit from separation. Those who have built power upon isolation.

  A chill ran down Deirdre's spine as she considered the implications. "There are beings who want the Domains to stay separate? Even knowing it leads to collapse?"

  There have always been those who prefer control over harmony, the Guardian said, its form flickering weakly. Those who build their power upon the isolation of fragments. They see reconnection as a threat to their authority.

  "But why? If it means eventual destruction—"

  Power is seductive, the Guardian said simply. And the future seems distant when one's existence spans millennia. Some believe they can maintain their fragments indefinitely without reconnection to the Source. They are wrong.

  The Guardian's form fluctuated violently, large portions of its energy dispersing before being painfully reabsorbed. The being was clearly in the final stages of whatever passed for death among such entities.

  I have tried, it said, voice now barely perceptible even within Deirdre's mind. For centuries I have attempted to begin the process of reconnection. But without direct access to the Domains, without the cooperation of their Lords, without a conduit capable of channeling Source energy... I have failed.

  The admission carried such profound regret that Deirdre felt tears spring to her eyes, though whether for the Guardian or for the broken multiverse, she couldn't have said.

  I am sorry, the Guardian whispered, its form now more absence than presence. I had hoped for more time. For better answers. For a clearer path.

  "Wait," Deirdre said, stepping closer to the dais, one hand outstretched though she knew she couldn't physically touch the being. "What should I do? What can I do?"

  But the Guardian gave no direct answer. Its form pulsed once more, a final gathering of strength, and in that moment Deirdre felt a profound connection with the ancient entity—a sharing not of words or images but of pure feeling: regret for what was lost, hope for what might yet be, and beneath it all, a bone-deep exhaustion after eons of struggle.

  Then, with neither drama nor ceremony, the Guardian simply... released. Its form dissipated entirely, not violently but gently, like a sigh of relief after long suffering. The motes of energy that had composed its being drifted outward in all directions, merging with the ambient magic of the Source. No final words, no dramatic last request, no passing of a torch—just a quiet end to an ancient vigil.

  Deirdre stood frozen, uncertain how to respond to what she had witnessed. Orsafi made a soft, mournful sound beside her, the carbuncle's gem dimming slightly as though in respect.

  "That's it?" Deirdre whispered into the sudden emptiness. "No instructions? No explanation of what I'm supposed to—"

  The words died in her throat as something unexpected began to happen. The dispersed energy of the Guardian, rather than continuing to diffuse throughout the chamber, began to coalesce again—not into the being's previous form, but into streams that flowed with deliberate purpose. And every stream, every particle of that ancient power, was flowing directly toward Deirdre.

  "No," she gasped, stepping back, hands raised as though to ward off the approaching energy. "I don't understand. I don't know what to do with this."

  But her protests had no effect. The energy continued its inexorable advance, surrounding her in a swirling vortex of violet light. She could feel it pressing against her skin, seeking entry, though not with any malice—rather with a sense of recognition, of rightness, as though it had found where it belonged.

  "Please," she whispered, though to whom she wasn't sure. "I didn't ask for this."

  The energy responded by suddenly surging forward, penetrating her physical form in a rush that stole her breath and sent her to her knees. It wasn't painful, precisely, but the sensation of foreign power entering her body was so overwhelming that she couldn't remain standing. The magic filled her veins, her muscles, her bones, flowing through pathways she hadn't known existed within her own form.

  Beside her, Orsafi let out a startled trill, backing away slightly, eyes fixed on Deirdre with what looked remarkably like awe. It was only then that Deirdre realized she was glowing—her skin emitting the same violet light that had composed the Guardian's form, though more subdued, contained within her human frame.

  Her physical senses heightened dramatically—colors became more vivid, sounds sharper, the texture of the air against her skin more distinct. But it wasn't knowledge that came with the power—only confusion, only questions multiplying with each heartbeat. What was happening to her? What did this transformation mean? What was she supposed to do now?

  The initial surge of power began to subside, the glow of her skin fading to a subtle luminescence rather than the bright radiance of moments before. The energy hadn't disappeared—she could still feel it coursing through her—but it had settled, becoming almost a part of her rather than a foreign presence.

  Shaking, Deirdre rose to her feet, examining her hands as though expecting to see physical changes. They looked the same, though occasionally violet light seemed to pulse beneath her skin, visible in the tracery of her veins. She felt… different. Stronger, certainly, but also disoriented and frightened, like waking in an unfamiliar place with no memory of how she got there.

  "I need to get back," she said aloud, the words meant as much to ground herself as to communicate with Orsafi. "I need to think, to process all this."

  The carbuncle chirped agreement, though the sound held a note of uncertainty that matched Deirdre's own feelings. Together, they turned back toward the entrance of the crystal cathedral, retracing their steps toward the doorway that had brought them to the Source.

  As they walked, Deirdre noticed subtle changes in how she perceived the landscape. The flows of magic were even more visible now, and when she idly brushed her hand through one, it responded to her touch, swirling around her fingers like water. She jerked her hand back, startled by the reaction.

  Most surprising of all was what happened when they encountered a void chasm directly in their path. Before, such an obstacle would have forced a lengthy detour. Now, without conscious decision, when Deirdre raised her hand in frustration at the obstacle—the void shimmered and contracted, not disappearing entirely but narrowing enough for them to safely jump across.

  "Did I do that?" she whispered, staring at her hand in bewilderment. She had no idea how she'd done it or if she could do it again. The subtle violet glow pulsed once, as if in confirmation, leaving her more confused than before.

  The implications were staggering and frightening. If she could affect the Source itself, even in such a small way, what did that mean? What was she becoming? What was she supposed to do with these powers she didn't understand and hadn't asked for?

  The journey back to the doorway passed in a daze of confusion and fear. Deirdre's mind raced with questions she had no answers for, each new discovery about her changed state only raising more uncertainties. By the time they reached the spot where they had entered the Source, she was desperate for the familiar comfort of the Exchange—the Nexus, she corrected herself mentally—and the chance to make sense of what had happened.

  But the doorway was gone.

  Where the rectangular portal back to the ancient archive had stood, there was now only unbroken crystal lattice, identical to the surrounding structure. The key, the door, the passage back—all had vanished without trace.

  "No," Deirdre breathed, panic rising in her chest. "No, it has to be here. It was right here."

  She pressed her hands against the crystal wall, searching for any sign of the doorway, any hint of the mechanism that had allowed their passage. Nothing yielded to her touch.

  "I can't be trapped here," she said, desperation edging her voice. "I need to get back. I need to understand what's happening to me."

  At the word "back," she felt a surge of energy within her, responding to her distress. Without conscious intent, she raised her hand again, fingers splayed against the crystal wall—and gasped as reality seemed to fold beneath her touch. The lattice parted like curtains, revealing not the stone corridor of the archive but a swirling vortex of energy, a portal of her own creation.

  Through this shimmering gateway, she could see the ancient archive, exactly as she had left it. The portal wasn't in precisely the same location as the door had been, but it led to the same destination. Somehow, without training or guidance, she had created a direct passage between the Source and the Exchnage.

  "That's... not possible," she whispered, though the evidence before her eyes suggested otherwise. She had no idea how she'd done it or how to control this new ability. It had simply happened, responding to her emotional state rather than any conscious command.

  Orsafi chirped, nudging her leg gently as if to say, "Well, are we going or not?"

  Deirdre hesitated only a moment longer before stepping through her self-created portal, Orsafi close at her heels. The transition was smoother than their passage through the door had been, as though this portal was somehow more attuned to her specific energy signature.

  They emerged directly into the ancient archive, the portal closing behind them with a soft hiss of dissipating energy. The silence of the underground chamber felt almost oppressive after the constant ambient sounds of the Source, the still air stale in comparison to the charged atmosphere they had left behind.

  Deirdre took a deep, steadying breath, trying to center herself in familiar surroundings. She felt displaced, caught between worlds, her body physically present in the Nexus while her awareness still partly lingered in the Source. The subtle violet glow beneath her skin had faded to near-invisibility, but she could still feel the energy coursing through her, foreign yet increasingly familiar.

  "What am I going to do now?" she asked softly, the question directed more at the universe than at Orsafi specifically. "What's happening to me? What am I supposed to do with... whatever this is?"

  To her surprise, a voice answered—one that was neither her own nor the carbuncle's.

  "That depends entirely on what you experienced in the Source."

  Deirdre whirled, heart pounding, to find herself facing a group of Noctari—the same owl-like humanoids she had known in the Exchange, but somehow more purposeful, less subservient than those who worked openly above. Their expressions were grave, their large eyes fixed on her with unmistakable recognition.

  At their center stood Lugh, the auction-house bookkeeper she had befriended. He stepped forward, his feathered form somehow more dignified than she remembered, his bearing suggesting hidden knowledge and purpose.

  "We have waited for this moment," he said simply. "Though none of us expected it would be you who returned from beyond the threshold."

  Deirdre stared at him, a dozen questions competing for priority. "You knew about the Source? About the door? How long have you been waiting?"

  "Centuries," replied one of the older Noctari, his feathers streaked with silver. "Our people were the original custodians of this archive. We know its secrets. Including the door to the Source."

  "But Management forbade us from speaking of these things," Lugh added, his voice holding a note of old bitterness. "We were banished from our duties, forbidden to access the lower levels, our knowledge suppressed."

  "They feared what we knew," said another Noctari, her voice softer. "What we remembered about the true nature of the Nexus. About its connection to the Source."

  Lugh took another step forward, his eyes fixed on Deirdre with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. "You've been there," he said, not a question but a statement of fact. "You've seen the Guardian."

  Deirdre nodded slowly, uncertain how much to reveal. "Yes, I've been to the Source. I saw... many things."

  Lugh's gaze remained unwavering. "And the Guardian? How did it fare?"

  The question carried a weight of genuine concern that surprised Deirdre. She hesitated, then decided on honesty. "The Guardian is gone. It... died, I think. Or whatever beings like that do when they reach the end."

  A murmur ran through the gathered Noctari, a sound of collective grief that suggested a deeper connection to the Guardian than Deirdre had anticipated. Lugh closed his eyes briefly, his posture conveying profound sadness.

  "We feared as much," he said eventually. "The signs have been there for those who know how to read them. The increasing instability in the Domains. The fracturing of established connections. The weakening of the barriers."

  He opened his eyes again, looking directly at Deirdre. They widened suddenly, his beak parting slightly in what appeared to be shock.

  "Something's different about you," he said, a note of awe entering his voice. "Your energy... it's changed."

  An elderly female Noctari stepped forward, her movements slow but deliberate. She raised one feathered hand, not quite touching Deirdre's face but hovering just before it. "The Guardian's power," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can sense it in you."

  The others murmured again, this time with a mixture of surprise and what sounded almost like reverence. Deirdre felt a wave of discomfort at their reaction.

  "I don't know what happened," she admitted, taking a step back from the elderly Noctari's scrutiny. "The Guardian... it didn't explain. It just... faded. And then its energy came to me. I didn't ask for it. I don't understand what it means or what I'm supposed to do. I can do things now that I couldn't before, but I have no idea how I'm doing them or how to control any of it."

  Lugh tilted his head, his expression shifting to something Deirdre couldn't quite interpret. "It means," he said softly, "that everything is about to change."

  The violet energy within Deirdre pulsed once, as though in agreement, leaving her with more questions than answers. She had no idea what was happening to her or what she was meant to do with these new abilities. Nothing about this transformation had come with instructions or explanations.

  Everything was indeed about to change. She just had no idea what that change would mean—for the Domains, for the Source, or for herself.