"Venna."
I called into the dark and got nothing back.
The dark was absolute—no edges, no shapes, only the soft black that pressed against my eyes and made the air feel thicker. Abuela had told me she was already inside the libra, sitting in there waiting, expecting me. The old woman had said it the way she said everything, like the information had been true for a long time and I was simply the last to arrive.
"Venna."
She let out a breath, long and slow, the sound of someone who had been holding it the entire time I'd been calling. It brushed the air between us.
"I'm here."
"Where?"
