The wishfeather drifted lightly from Juggernaut's tendril, returning to cosmic dust; and for Juggernaut, it would indeed grant its wish to become something legendary and wonderful. It knew this in the back of its mind, its own mind, the secret little pieces of Juggernaut that would always be Juggernaut. If it wanted to return to Ursa and sleep, it may, but if it wanted to sleep here, it was more than welcome to. There was an air of safety around those still coming to.

Whenever it chose to sleep it would chrysalize, and its dream would envelop it in the cheers of those who would know its shape and name: descending in symmetry, wrapped in fractals like ribbons, its new form unveiled in feathers and wings and eyes and the sharp, glinting edges of Clearstone. The embodiment of Order: beautiful, wonderful, many parts of a whole—and too, the imposing and oneness of itself. The Whole. The Foundation. The Template of the Pattern.

Juggernaut would become its own standard: perfection perfected.