She kept reading. Quiet. Still.
Then she stopped again.
This time, her hand lowered to the page, fingers resting gently on a crooked line near the bottom.
Her lips parted like she meant to say something, but nothing came out.
My stomach dropped.
“You found something,” I said.
Nova’s eyes flicked to mine, then back to the book.
“I’m not sure,” she murmured.
But I could see it. Something had shifted in her. A deep stillness, like the world had tilted a little and she was waiting for it to settle.
She read the passage again.
And again.
Then turned the page.
She didn’t speak for a long time.
“Nova?” I stepped closer, heart thudding. “What is it?”
She looked up.
And I saw something in her face I’d never seen before. Not fear. Not wonder. Something heavier. Something that felt… old. Like she’d just remembered a secret she’d promised never to speak aloud.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Ran her hand down the edge of the page and stared at the text like it might change if she just looked hard enough.
“Is it dangerous?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Is it coming back?”
Still nothing.
Finally, she whispered, “It’s not what I thought it was.”
That made Stella shift uncomfortably beside the candle. “So whatisit, then?”
Nova didn’t take her eyes off the page. Her voice came low, barely above the rustling of the paper.
“I don’t know how to explain it yet.”
I waited for more, but she didn’t say anything else. Just closed the book with slow, deliberate care and rested her hand on the worn cover like she was keeping something inside.
“You’re not telling me everything,” I said.
Her eyes met mine. Tired. Steady.
