The freezing mountain gale screamed across the outer terraces of Ouro, threatening to bury the refugee encampments beneath winter drifts.
Didi knelt upon the frozen granite paving, resting her pale fingertips against the foundation stones where three district paths converged.
From the tips of her fingers, delicate traceries of crystalline blue ice bloomed across the rock, forming vaulted domes of protective frost.
"A shelter is not a cage..." she whispered, her sixth shard humming with pure elemental authority behind her ribs.
"If you anchor the threshold with absolute ice, the citizens will mistake this sanctuary for an imperial prison," he cautioned gently.
"I am not anchoring the threshold with absolute ice," she replied, her breath curling into delicate winter blossoms.
"Then how do the refugees cross without freezing their heels to the floor?"
"The threshold is conditioned upon need rather than allegiance," she explained, lifting her hand to trace the arched entrance.
