“Oh! I assumed he’d sent you here. I mean, that coming to us was your primary purpose.” “Turns out that it was. Tell me, young one. Do spren speak to you?” The lights going out, life drained from them. Twisted symbols the eye should not see. Her mother’s soul in a box. “I . . .” she said. “No. Why would a spren speak to me?” “No voices?” the man said, leaning forward. “Do spheres go dark when you are near?”
