Months later. The library is quiet. Elara sees a young woman walk in, a faint, sputtering red Glimmer around her. It's not as violent as Leo's was. It's the red of a story threatening to fade from neglect. Elara feels the familiar pull, but no fear. She walks over, not to intercept a tragedy, but to engage.
"Can I help you find something?" Elara asks.
The girl looks up, eyes sad. "I don't know. Just… something that makes sense?" Elara smiles, her own inner light a steady, guiding glow. "I might have a few suggestions. Let's start over here. The best stories," she says, leading the girl away from the door, "are often the ones we haven't found the courage to write yet."
She glances at the girl's flickering Glimmer. It doesn't vanish, but it softens, tinged with the faintest hint of a new color: the gold of a beginning.