The silver knife didn't just cut; it whispered against my bone. The old woman the Astrologer didn't blink as she dragged the blade across my palm, right over the jagged remains of the silver scar. I didn't pull away. I watched the thick, dark sludge of the white fluid mix with my fresh, red blood, dripping into a clay bowl filled with dried lavender and crushed beetles.
"Love at first sight," the old woman croaked, her voice like dry leaves skittering across a tombstone. "That is the lie they tell the young, isn't it? But you, Esther... you are seeing the truth now. The first time you saw the Archive, you didn't see a machine. You saw a god. And you loved it until it ate your soul."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My tongue felt like a piece of dry leather in my mouth. The ritual was stripp
