Rachel found colored pools of enlightenment shards and crystals long before she stopped being surprised. By the third one she had learned to expect the strange generosity of that place: glints and wells of light tucked into hollows, waiting for whoever might stumble this far. Many who came to the plane never made it past the first shimmer; fewer still ever stood inside a pool and took a shard into their hands to see what it might do.
She crouched beside one and watched the surface tilt like liquid glass. The crystals hummed softly — not with sound but with idea, with possibility. Each shard seemed to whisper a separate kind of knowing. When she cupped one in both palms it warmed as if with memory.
The river's voice threaded in her mind. 'When you go into Doubting Joy remember: joy may not be what you expect. Doubts come from within and without. They may have nothing to do with you.'
