“—It kills you if you don’t leave,” I finished, something unsettling snaking down my spine.
He nodded once.
“I’ve never heard or read anything like that,” I said, frowning. “I mean, I knew Nimorran was cold. Every source mentions that. Butkillingcold? That’s kind of an important footnote to miss.”
“It only kills people with an intention to harm it,” he corrected. “The town is fragile, Sanora. It doesn’t want to get hurt.”
I stared at him. The idea of Nimorran being alive—or aware—should’ve sounded ridiculous. But it didn’t. Not here. Not to me.
Gods, I didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with this place.
“What brings you here?” Weeny Man asked, his voice breaking into my thoughts.
“Oh.” I glanced outside the window, pointing. “I saw your shop and thought I’d check it out—”
“No,” he said gently. “To this town.”
I blinked, then gave a soft laugh and relaxed back into the chair. “Research.”
He held my gaze a moment too long, and then slowly smiled again, this time wider. “I see the stories had an impact on your life.”
Silence stretched between us. It wasn’t awkward—more like we were both remembering something. Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“What kind of research, if I may ask?”
I hesitated. Saying it out loud felt dangerous. “The Crater.”
His expression shattered in an instant. His back stiffened, and he leaned forward, eyes hard.
I raised my hand instinctively. “I know, Weeny Man.”
“No, Sanora. Youdon’tknow anything. You think everything you read about The Crater in those books is true?”
“I know they aren’t. That’s why I—”
“No. Stay away from it. The Crater is more dangerous than you think.”
I stared at him, his words heavy and loud in my head. “Someone once told me not to let danger stop me from getting the knowledge my heart demands.”
His mouth tightened and he shook his head slowly, recalling his own words. “This knowledge will kill you.”
I gave a weak smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t die. Six expert fortune tellers said so.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t believe those things.”
I scoffed. “You sound like my mother.”
His face changed. He pulled back, scratching his beard as silence folded over us again.
I let my eyes wander. Something on the shelf caught my attention—a familiar symbol on a worn spine. I stood and walked over, my fingers hovering as I pulled out the book.
I gasped.
“The Volume Two ofThe Moon’s Wrath.” My voice trembled with disbelief as my eyes swept to him. “There was volume two?”
He shook his head slowly.
I frowned, flipping it open. Every page was blank. Every. Page. Fourteen hundred of them.
