Something had changed. Something big.

The life of an Anomaly was one of constant change and persistent vigilance- or at least, that last part was the life of a full-time anomaly, which Charisma hoped to soon be. Training and long lectures grew tedious, and she always flourished on her tests. She hoped it would be soon, she hoped she would be left to her own studies.

Many of her kind believed themselves perfection incarnate, unblemished and pure. Charisma knew this was not so. Perfect beings wouldn't let their worlds, their realmises, shatter with lack of proper care, perfect beings would have no urge to be envious of another's progress or success.

Charisma had made mistakes herself. Her very first realmis had shattered in her hands from her lack of experience and trusting the words of the older students she learned alongside. Her memory was long, and she would never forget the pain and desperation she'd felt as she tried to stabilize it, tried to save it, only to have the cracks grow, the realmis tremble and quiver, and then the horrifying sound of countless lives crying out and then going deathly silent.

Everything dissipated into mist, floating away to perhaps form into a new one one day... but it would not be the same world. It would never be the same world. Everything was lost... Except for four, tiny lights.

She scooped them up into her hands, holding them tight to her body as they flickered but refused to go out. It was in those moments, quietly whispering gentle comforts to them, telling them to hold on because she had them and wouldn't let them go, it was then that she really bonded with these tiny lights. These lights were cybertronian, a race that even in the world itself had been few and scattered due to their own actions, but these four... They were special, she knew it.

She tended to them, carried them with her everywhere, checking on them constantly from the hidden pocket where she cradled them. She checked on them enough that others noticed. Some jeered and teased her for being so soft and clinging to something so little and insignificant, what's four little lights out of the countless lights in countless worlds across their realm?
Some thought it odd, but didn't say anything positive or particularly negative about it.

Only the Elders seemed to really take Charisma's actions into thought. One of the council examined it more than anyone else, and one day, she held out another world, one of her own countless worlds to look after.

"It is not exactly like the one they had, but it is close."

It was the first time Charisma had even heard of the transplantation cycle, the method of taking lights from one world and putting them in another with the intention of a permanent placement. As it turned out, she had not heard of it because it was more advanced techniques than she was supposed to be learning, but then again, most anomalies did not lose their one and only realmis this soon.

She hadn't meant to bond with Sigma Seventeen so much, but looking back, how could she not? They depended on her, needed her to protect and care for them until she was able to put them in their new realm. She supposed she was then intended to just do what she'd done before, to watch and keep cracks from forming... But she had to know. Did they like their new world? Would they acclimate to it alright?

So she dove into the world herself, observed from a personal perspective. Others had done it, but not many. Most thought it silly, she supposed. What she found was... Refreshing.

For once, the information she was getting from her world wasn't all at once in a marbled stream of colors and noise. Down here, she could see the flowers, feel the cold, hear the bustling of crowds in a town square. She hadn't intended on being seen at that parade, but she had been...

... and Blades had called her 'Mother.'

She had been both shocked and exhilarated at the title; shocked because she hadn't really realized that she'd been maternal in nature towards them until then, but also exhilarated because Blades hadn't seemed upset in the slightest about it. She was their mother figure, they were like her kids!

The more she observed their progress, the more she watched their growth into their new selves, the prouder she felt, and the more she wanted so desperately to spend just a night with them in person... To sit down and enjoy a meal not just with her little ones, but the humans they loved as well.

But just like any parent, she could not be with her children all the time... Not yet, not until her studies were finished.

Her close connection with the world, her familiarity with how it felt both in her hands and all around her when she'd visit briefly, it had changed her... And it meant that when she came back from one lecture, she sensed the change before she'd even entered the space where her world was stored.

Something was different. Something was wrong.

She rushed closer, cradling the glowing shape in her hands. Sigma Seventeen, her children, they were all in turmoil. What had she missed?

Oh... Oh no.

Blades' aura was stifled, the little copter trying to keep himself calm as he stood over Heatwave's limp form. Despite his stillness, his aura was still quite active... More than before, actually. It was thicker than before, swirling up and around his body almost like as it were forming a shield around him. Boulder was present, his own aura still stable and trying to reach for Blades', like an invisible embrace that was being rebuffed.

"Where's Chase?"
She ran her fingers over the edge of the world, feeling and searching for the blue aura she should be seeing. Red, orange, green, where was blue? Where was Chase?

Panic was beginning to settle in, but she forced it down. He was here, he had to be- Wait.

There it was... A small strand of silvery energy- like the tinsel substance she'd seen the humans putting on their trees for holiday decorations- waving outward from the world and then dissipating out into the darkness around.

Panic was replaced with anger as she wrapped it around her fingers. Chase wasn't here... He was gone.

She scooped her realmis up into her arms, cradling it as she moved. The strand tightly wound to her finger, she marched through the darkness, and she wasn't the only one. As she approached the Elders' Corridor, she saw others approaching with their own worlds in tow.

"Chrsmu," One spoke as they noticed her, "Your world too?"

"One of my transplants, in fact."

"Brilliant. Any idea who?"

Charisma held out her hand, and her fellow student gave a nod. The guilty party had left evidence.

It was a clear rule of all Anomalies: You did not mess with another's realmis without their permission, and unless the realmis' integrity was compromised, you were not to remove worldlings without their permission.

The crowd of slighted anomalies mounted the closer Charisma came to the Elders' Corridor, and by the time she entered, the noise of chattering voices and bodies moving against each other.

The Elders stood above the others, trying their best to quiet the masses. "Little ones, little ones, do speak one at a time."

"Something must be done!"

"These are crimes, Elders!"

"If this many realmises were affected, no realmis is safe!"

Charisma slid off to the side of the crowd, the colors around quietly shifting in and out of their normal dark colors and flashes of white anger pulsing through the crowd. She was not the first in line for displaying her frustrations, it appeared many were before her.

She held her realmis closer to her, looking around at those present. She didn't know who was responsible for this, she didn't know who to trust. The culprit could easily be in this crowd right now... She needed to be vigilant.

And she had to wait...