(Mirabel's POV)
Knock.
The sound echoed across the horizon.
Not through air.
Through meaning.
Every story in the city heard it.
Every dream.
Every memory.
Every unfinished possibility.
Knock.
The black line spread further.
A thin fracture separating existence from something beyond it.
The city remained dark.
Silent.
Watching.
Waiting.
Afraid.
Which was unsettling.
Cities should not know enough to be afraid.
This one did.
Memory stood motionless.
Eyes fixed on the approaching edge.
The traveler looked older somehow.
Not physically.
Historically.
As though the name they had spoken carried the weight of entire eras.
Tomorrow stepped beside them.
"Who's the Last Reader?"
Memory didn't answer immediately.
The delay told me everything.
Some questions were dangerous.
