The First Hymn remains stable. The offering has not rejected the vessel. The Mother's ward must remain unbroken until ascension. The Keeper will count the names. The Choir will send the answer.
I read the lines once, then again. The room went quiet in a way that had nothing to do with dust or paper. The heavy kind. The kind that settled in whenever everyone in the room realized something had just stopped being a theory.
The Keeper will count the names. Marcellus. The Mother's ward. The Empress. The Choir will send the answer. Saint Orison's. The children. The bells. The first hymn.
My fingers tightened around the page. "Explain."
Marcellus had gone pale, not dramatically, he was too disciplined for that, but the color had withdrawn from his lips, and the veins at his temples showed faintly beneath his skin.
"It's not a complete record," he said.
"That wasn't my question."
"The language is symbolic."
"No. Symbolic language still means something."
