The Twilight Word

And then, as the last of the day’s light faded, he spoke. Not to Nyra, not to himself, but to the box. A single word, soft and hesitant. ‘Perhaps.’ It was not a demand for entry, but an acknowledgment of possibility. It was the first word of a new language, the first question in a workshop that had, until now, only ever dealt in answers. And in the quiet of the twilight, Nyra knew, with a certainty that resonated deep in her soul, that it was enough. It was everything.