It's a beautiful November day on Nox Islia. Overlooking the Door and the Castle, a voice cries out -- "She's dead! She's dead!"

In Avi's office, the writer looks away from his writing to look outside as the voice continues -- "Writer! Your wife, our Great Protector, is dead! Dead, I say!"

The voice rings through hallways and stairwells -- "She hasn't knocked in days!!"

Finally, as its sounds come into the Great Hall, it becomes clear the voice belongs to Inger Lint, Guardian of the Door, who has been here since 1942 -- "There's nobody on watch!! Dead!!"

"Inger," Avi assures the small, lumpy, grey-haired, labcoat-wearing figure, "she's fine. She's just in quarantine."

"Quarantine? The Protector is diseased?"

"She was in close contact with a friend who came here from another dimension. We filed with the Mayor, so we assumed you knew."

Inger Lint begrudgingly takes up the watch, sitting at Aquila's usual campfire through the cool November night.