Page 32 - DivineSparkRisingFinal

Divine Spark Rising
“See this?” she said. “Meeting request. No
agenda, no attendees. Just one word: Curator.”
“Sounds like an art dealer.”
“Not this one,” she said, sliding the file back
into the folder. “This one edits people.”
She still made catastrophe sound like poetry. He
broke eye contact, focusing instead on the wall of
evidence, the faded ink on a codex, the sharp angle
of a pin, anything to anchor himself against the pull
of her voice.
He looked down at the fragments of the God
Word.
“Uma Voz. Uma Verdade. Uma Visão.” One
voice. One Truth. One Vision.
“I saw this slogan in the Palace of Mafra,” she
said, “carved above a doorway like a forgotten
motto. Back then, I barely noticed. Just one line,
weathered and half-faded. At the time, it felt like
decoration, another scrap of history hiding in the
stone. Now it sounds different. Not a motto. A
threat. Cold and alive.”
“That’s where I saw it,” Henry said, “but
scribbled in the margin of a seventeenth-century
codex. Serpa showed me. I thought it was just some
forgotten footnote. But in Mafra… there are no
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