Page 124 - DivineSparkRising II-TheMirrorofSilenceFinal

Divine Spark Rising
A figure stood at the far end, half silhouette, half
memory: tall, shoulders spare, coat the color of
storm water. He turned. Henry’s body recognized
him before his mind permitted it.
Álvaro.
“Impossible,” Henry said, which is a useless
sentence in a room built from impossibility.
Carolina whispered, “Aleph.”
The man inclined his head. He was thinner than
the last time, hollower at the cheeks, but his eyes
were the same intricate gray — the color that made
Henry trust him in a lab at 3 a.m., when code
looked like prayer and failure looked like sunrise.
Only now those eyes held a calm that didn’t belong
to a living thing.
“Álvaro,” Henry said. The name felt like
trespass.
Aleph raised one hand. His fingers moved in
quiet, precise motions — not sign language, not
quite. A pared-down grammar of intent. Carolina
watched, then translated under her breath,
incredulous: “Do not speak. The room will use it.”
Aleph nodded, approval flickering like light on
a blade.
Sera stepped forward. “Why are you here?”
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