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I blink. "What?"

"Tomorrow." She smiles sweetly. "Tonight you've cried enough."

I groan. "I knew there was a catch."

She smiles. "There's always a catch."

For the first time in weeks I believe her. Maybe, just maybe we don't have to face this alone anymore. For several long moments neither of us speaks. The Academy beyond Nyra's window has fallen completely silent. The laughter from The Place has disappeared. The corridors are dark. Only the candle between us continues to burn. Its flame dances over the notebooks scattered across the blanket. Nyra is staring at them. Not absentmindedly. Thinking. I know that look. It's the same one she wears during Professor Elian's lectures when everyone else is still trying to understand the question. I wait. Eventually she reaches for the nearest notebook. Mine. Without asking. She opens it to the page where I'd copied every date from Professor Neris' letters. Thirty-eight reports. Thirty-eight villages. Thirty-eight manifestations. She reads every line. Twice. Then quietly asks, "Do you have another quill?"

I blink. "That's your reaction?"

She looks up. "What reaction were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Shock?"

"I am shocked." She says.

"You don't look shocked."

"I process differently."

"Clearly."

She smiles faintly. "I'll panic later."

"When?"

"When it becomes useful."

Despite everything I laugh. Gods. Only Nyra would schedule a panic. She smooths a blank sheet of parchment across the blanket. Then another. Then another. Within minutes books have been pushed aside. Tea forgotten. Biscuits abandoned. The entire floor between us slowly disappears beneath loose pages. I watch in silence. "What are you doing?"

"Organizing."

"There's an organization?" I raise my eyebrows.

"There will be." She writes one word in the middle of the first page. Manifestations. A second page. Ward disturbances. A third. Disappearances. Then she hesitates. Looks toward me. "What do you call the moments where Blood Echo remembers... nothing?"

I think back to Aldric. To Briar's Hollow. To that impossible emptiness. "I don't know."

"I do." Her quill scratches across the page. Absences. The word makes something inside me tighten. Not because it's frightening. Because it's accurate.

She begins drawing lines between the pages. Dates. Places. Names. Questions. The web grows larger by the minute. I kneel beside her. "You've done this before."

She smiles without looking up. "My mother taught me." The words hang gently in the room. "No mystery begins with the answer." She says. "It begins with putting every piece where you can see it." I hand her another page. She writes: First Trial. Aldric. Blood Echo. Missing memory. Vyrael's bond interrupted. Another line. Silent Archive. Missing records. Hidden journals. Ancient symbol. Another. Briar's Hollow. Ward instability. Ancient marker. Old blood. Forest silence. She leans back. Studies everything. Then frowns. "No." She whispers.

"What?"

"We're organizing this wrong." She stands abruptly. Starts moving pages around.

I blink. "Nyra..."

"No." She shakes her head. "We're following the investigation."

"Shouldn't we?"

"No." She taps the page labeled Manifestations. "That's what you investigated." Another tap. "It's not necessarily where it started."

I stare. "I don't understand."