Page 189 - DivineSparkRising II-TheMirrorofSilenceFinal

Nicholas Boothman
worn by soles that had hurried in fear and in
purpose and in maintenance confusion. The hum of
the engine faded behind them. Another hum
gathered, thinner and older — the sound of plans
remembered by stone.
They emerged into a chamber where the floor
was not floor but shallow water over smooth
concrete — a mirror that had decided not to return
faces anymore. The ceiling arched low, just high
enough to make standing defiance instead of
comfort.
In the center stood a pedestal with a square of
black glass the size of a book. Above it hung a
single bulb that shouldn’t have worked, and did.
Words on the wall had been washed away a dozen
times; you could see their ghosts in streaks.
Sofia’s voice did not fill the room. It waited in
the corner like a guest unwilling to claim host.
“This is where I learned to be tired,” she said
quietly. “Before I learned to be cruel.”
Henry exhaled, surprised into compassion he
didn’t want to give. “Then this is where we listen,”
he said. “And do.”
Carolina set Serpa’s notebook on the pedestal,
then the J-0 reader atop it. She didn’t press play yet.
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