“Okay,” Idella spoke aloud. The room was filled with no one. “Okay.”
Turning the pages for the fiftieth time, Idella poured over the text, diagrams, and numbers. Her throat hitched as she bated her breath, and she felt a nervous heartbeat thumping in her chest. Turning the pages for the fifty-first time, Idella finally closed the book and took stepped away from the table.
“Okay,” she spoke aloud. “Okay,” she repeated. The word hung in the air.
Shifting her feet across the floor and sucking in a breath, Idella held out a palm and concentrated. A tiny flicker of flame sparked to life in her hand, tinged red in color. Concentrating harder, her fingers tensing, the color of the flame flickered from red to orange and abruptly to green. Gasping, Idella flailed her arm and quelched the flame. She stooped again over book, flying through the pages and again pouring over its contents. Her sweaty palms stuck to the parchment.
“Okay,” she breathed, head down and the curled tips of her hair brushing over the pages. “Again.”
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