Mira discovered that when she read a page aloud and traced the thread with her finger, the world tilted a fraction toward completion. The sky would clear. The potter's kiln would whistle to life. The ledger sighed, relieved, its letters darkening as if they were finally allowed to be firm. Havel watched from his lantern-shadowed doorway and said, "You are stitching the world, child."
"Maybe myth is the ledger's way of wearing a disguise," Mira answered.
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