It was not a particularly beautiful afternoon. The day had been absolutely dreadful, the kind of day that makes one regret leaving the protective cocoon of a blanket. Masters adjusted her long trench coat, doing everything she could to block the splattering chill from soaking into her soul. Her umbrella had already failed her near Fifth Street. Worse still, it had absconded with her hot chai latte, which was supposed to warm her commute.

A heavy sigh parted her lips. Raindrops smashed violently against her glasses, making navigation even harder for someone who already struggled with direction. Perhaps she should have taken her husband's advice. He could have gone to the archives ahead of her and fired off an emergency flare so she could find her way.

She ducked under the dull light of the nearest canopy. The artificial lights of the convenience store looked painfully bleak compared to the warm walnut stains and high ceilings that Nexus offered. She strove to clean her glasses. The task proved as pointless as hoping to stay dry in this weather.

She took a few precious moments to wring the water out of her hair. There would be hell to pay later if she did not run a comb through it. Untended ringlets would quickly devolve into the frizzed nest that passed for her hair.

She was tired, soaked, and unbearably cranky. If not for her adoration of her work, she would have abandoned braving the storm entirely. She was never labeled as brave. Instead, she was a bundle of nerves that found joy in the smell of leather and printed ink.

She took a deep breath, puffing out her chest like a gallant white knight posing for a portrait. She gave herself to the count of five. Then she endured the slosh of her boots and marched until she reached those doors.

Just as she reached out to step back into the gray sheets of rain, her foot bumped against something near the base of the storefront display. The object did not roll away like a forgotten piece of fruit. Instead, it scraped heavily against the wet concrete with a rough, grating sound that made her heart hammer against her ribs. She froze and stumbled backward. A nest. She had stepped on a snake nest. Her mind flashed with images of slick, writhing coils exploding from the shadows. She held her breath, waiting for the strike. Nothing moved. Forcing her eyes downward, her panic dissolved into bewilderment. It was not a snake. Resting just out of the direct downpour was a single object the size of a chicken egg.

Its geometry was entirely wrong for a bird. It was elongated and stretched into an uncanny reptile oval, completely rigid. The surface was armored in sharp, fortress-like ridges that mimicked the raised scales of an alligator. As the storm light caught the shell, it revealed a soft, pale gray coloration shot through with delicate, ghostly wisps of lavender. Rainwater pooled in the deep valleys between the stone scales, reflecting the neon hum of the storefront like liquid amethyst. It looked ancient, beautiful, and entirely out of place on a city sidewalk. Before she could talk herself out of it, she decided to take it back to the library to clean it up and warm it.

She crouched. Her fingers hesitated for a fraction of a second before closing around the armored shell. Her breath hitched. It was shockingly heavy, dense like a solid slug of lead, and unnervingly warm. Despite sitting on the freezing concrete in a torrential downpour, the stone ridges radiated a deep, living heat that bled straight into her chilly palms. It felt less like a shell and more like a tiny, slumbering furnace. Moving quickly before her nerves failed her, she fished a soft silk handkerchief from her pocket. She wrapped the delicate fabric carefully around the jagged alligator scales to cushion it. Then she lowered the heavy bundle into the center of her purse, zipping it tight against the elements. With her strange treasure safely tucked away, she squared her shoulders, braved the gray sheets of rain, and marched the final few steps to the library.

The heavy brass key turned in the lock with a solid, satisfying click. She slipped inside, shoving the door shut against the howling wind. Instantly, the oppressive roar of the storm died. It was replaced by a low, rhythmic drone that vibrated deep within the floorboards. A familiar hum pulsed through the dark stacks like a half-forgotten lullaby just out of sight.

She deliberately focused on the squelch of her boots, careful not to listen to the melody too closely. She knew better. If she let the cadence catch her mind, she would fall into an unbreakable slumber right on the welcome mat. Traditional security locks and iron bolts meant very little when your sanctuary was protected by a boon from the Fae Court. Shaking out her hair, which was now a ruined, frizzed nest after the wind stole her umbrella, she squeezed the strap of her bag. Her umbrella was likely halfway across the city, but she hardly cared. She unzipped her purse, eager to see how the strange, warm weight inside responded to the library's enchanted air.

"Hola mi amiga, ¿qué pasa? I was beginning to worry you got..." her voice trailed off. "What is that you have there?"

Sterling stepped out from the shadows of the towering bookshelves, wiping a smudge of ink from her fingers. Standing a bit shorter in height, she possessed an effortless beauty born of a rich mixed heritage. Her skin had a gorgeous, warm Hispanic complexion that seemed to catch the library’s golden lantern light. She had soft, round cheeks that always gave her an inviting air. A comforting, familiar scent followed her—a lovely blend of rich vanilla and toasted amber that cut right through the damp chill. Right now, her dark brown eyes were wide with curiosity, completely locked onto the open mouth of the purse.

The egg did not care about being hidden anymore. The moment the zipper parted, the enchanted air of the Nexus acted like fuel to its tiny internal furnace. The pale gray surface began to gleam. Ghostly wisps of lavender hue started to pulse, radiating a soft, bioluminescent violet glow that cast long, rhythmic shadows across the silk handkerchief.

"I bumped into it outside," she admitted, carefully lifting the heavy, leaden weight out of her bag. The alligator ridges scraped against her rings with a sharp ring that echoed in the quiet stacks. "I thought it was a snake nest at first. But Sterling... it's burning hot. And it's solid."

Sterling hummed, tracking the rhythmic violet pulses before tapping her booted heel sharply onto the floorboards. "You're overselling it, you hams," Sterling called out to the empty, whispering air. "Quiet down."

Instantly, the hypnotic melodies withered away. The phantom tunes silenced as the library locks groaned and settled securely back into their heavy iron places. The oppressive weight of the Fae lullaby vanished, leaving only the cozy, familiar silence of the Nexus. Sterling stepped fully into the light, leaning over the desk to study the armored oval.

"Well," Sterling murmured, adjusting her sleeves as practical instincts kicked in. "If it acts like a reptile, we treat it like one. Warm and moist, right?" She darted off toward the back room. She returned a moment later with a deep mahogany sorting tray lined with clean, damp flannel cloths and a small brass desk lamp angled closely to provide a steady, controlled heat. Together, they gently cradled the pulsing egg into its makeshift incubator, watching the stone shell seem to sigh into the warmth.

Masters leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk in her usual undignified manner whenever something caught her attention. Sterling's mouth curved up slightly in silence as she joined her at the angle.

"What do you think it is?" Diane whispered in awe.

"I don't know what it is," Jaclyn confirmed, "but I do hope it's something that can handle that Eldritch rat. Rodney has figured out how to multiply or open mini tears in reality to let more of his cousins through."