Page 107 of Anomalies

I set the book down and lean over it with wide eyes. “And everything,” I mutter.

“Nature adopted the language, translating Vaelith words into sequences of long and short bursts of light. It is theorized that that’s how the gods communicated with life on Vita. The first instance of flickering stars was recorded by Tobias Lowry, who then dedicated his life to translating it. This journal is a recount of his findings.”

I flip the page, and my jaw drops.

It’s a recording of each encounter he had with flashing stars. According to him, they’d go in and out like strobe lights, long and short bursts with quick pulses in between, and Tobias found a connection between them.

The stars could speak Vaelith. Or they used to at least.

At the bottom of the next page is a hastily sketched drawing of—A Veila.

Holy gods.

674 A.C. (After Collapse)

After three long months of searching, I have caught a Veila.

I’ve managed to sustain its life by submerging it in a liquid that amplifies the sound and life force of my pulse. As long as I sit here, with the heart device strapped to my chest, I can supply its life and my own while I study it.

My findings are just as I suspected, the series of pulses and long blinks suggest a pattern similar to other stars; a pattern I have linked to Vaelith. Below are the translations that I have confirmed without a doubt.

One pulse, approximately 1/3 of a second: Yes.

Two consecutive pulses, both 1/3 of a second: No.

One long flash, an entire second long, followed by a short burst at 1/4 of a second: Come see/follow.

Four short flashes, each 4/7 of a second: War/chaos/upheaval.

Six bursts that flash in sets of two, mimicking the beat of a human heart: Love.

Again, these are only the translations I can confirm, though there are many more that I’m still theorizing; I will need a few more days with these.

However, these findings have the potential to be the greatest advancement we have made yet, for I predict that the legends are true; there is a time traveler in my midst. Decoding a Veila would unlock the secrets of the future, and life on our planet would have the entirety of its insight. We would be unstoppable.

Lowry.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

The Veila I caught…all the historians that could never decipher their language…Vaelith. It was Vaelith. All roads lead back to it, because it was the native tongue of the Chiaros. It was the only language that was universal, spoken by humans and witches…by the dead and the living…by the fucking stars.

So then why was it forgotten? Evolution? The development of society and the creation of what we believed were easier languages? I bet Kimber knows.

I nearly jump when the office door swings open, and for a moment, I let myself hope that it will be him. It isn’t.

“The Dame canceled our meeting,” Hunter says to me by way of greeting. His blonde hair is damp, and his white t-shirt is vest-less; the only weapon I can see on him is the hilt of a dagger in his waistband.

Delia has never canceled a meeting. “Did she say why?”

Hunter shakes his head. “Just that something came up.”

I wasn’t looking forward to being judged and scrutinized today anyway; I’d rather just stay in this office. Maybe I’d lock the door and close the blinds, really go full hermit.

I pull the book back into my lap, but Hunter doesn’t leave.

“Back to reading then?” he asks, and I nod without looking up from the page. “How about a walk instead?”