The crack still ran down the center of the book’s final page, thin as a splinter, dark as ash. No words had returned. No ink. No revelation.
Just that damn humming.
I’d traced the curve of it over and over again with my fingertips until my skin was raw and my nerves on edge. But whatever was hidden inside that page refused to show itself.
“Maybe it’s cursed,” Sevrin said from the far corner of the chamber. “Wouldn’t be the first time the Council tried to bury knowledge behind a spell designed to break minds.”
“It’s not cursed,” Nyra snapped, though she didn’t sound sure anymore. “It’s cloaked.”
“And cloaked from who?” Sevrin shot back. “Because apparently not from her.” He nodded to me, pacing again like his body couldn’t handle stillness. “Every time she touches it, something pulses.
