Chapter 1825

"You must find the first house before the fourteenth door opens."

A pause.

"Do not trust the one who remembers everything."

The lantern flickered.

"Do not trust the one who remembers nothing."

Jude looked at Sol.

The boy was staring at the book.

The voice continued.

"And whatever happens, do not allow the child to return to the tree."

A low rumble passed beneath the floor.

The book began closing.

But before it shut, a final sentence appeared.

Because the child is not the one who was lost.

Jude stared at the words.

Then the room went dark.

A small sound came from behind them.

Three knocks.

A pause.

Three more.

Jude turned.

The wooden door was no longer there.

Instead, a narrow doorway had appeared in the wall.

Beyond it was a familiar room.

Their shared house.

The house that had vanished from the village.

Warm light shone through the windows.

The fire was burning.

The table was set.

And all twelve women were sitting around it.

Layla was among them.

She looked towards Jude.

"Come home."

Jude stepped closer.

Sol caught his hand.

"That’s not the way out."

The woman at the table stood.

"Jude, please."

He looked at her.

"Which one are you?"

She smiled.

"Your Layla."

"Then tell me what you said when we first found the flower garden."

She hesitated.

Only for a second.

But Jude noticed.

The woman smiled again.

"You promised to build a bench."

Jude shook his head.

"No."

Her expression changed.

"You promised to repair the bench."

Jude stepped back.

"No."

The woman stared.

Then the other eleven women stood.

All of them.

Their chairs scraped across the floor.

The room behind them became darker.

And from the fireplace came a faint blue glow.

Jude looked at the table.

There were thirteen plates.

But this time, there were fourteen chairs.

The extra chair stood beside Layla.

A pale cloth covered its back.

Something moved beneath it.

Then the cloth fell.

A small child was sitting there.

A boy with dark hair.

A silver crescent pendant hung from his wrist.

He looked exactly like Sol.

Except this boy was smiling.

The Sol beside Jude stopped breathing for a moment.

The child at the table lifted his head.

"Hello," he said.

Jude looked between them.

The boy at the table smiled wider.

"I’ve been waiting for you."

Sol began shaking.

The boy at the table continued.

"You can take him home now."

Jude looked at the child beside him.

"What does he mean?"

Sol didn’t answer.

The boy at the table reached towards the empty chair.

"Come on. Sit with me."

Then he looked directly at Jude.

"There’s something you should know."

His smile vanished.

"The child you’ve been protecting is the one who opened the first house."

The wooden book slammed shut.

The doorway disappeared.

And from somewhere beneath the floor, a woman’s voice screamed:

"JUDE, DON’T LET HIM REMEMBER HIS NAME!"

"JUDE, DON’T LET HIM REMEMBER HIS NAME!"

The scream seemed to tear through the wooden room.

For one breath, Jude couldn’t move.

Then every shelf rattled.

The hundreds of objects stored around the circular chamber began trembling. A cracked teacup rolled off a shelf and shattered against the floor. A small brass bell rang by itself. Somewhere above them, something enormous dragged across the roof of the room, sending a shower of dust down from the ceiling.

Sol stood beside Jude, staring at the closed book.

"Don’t answer it," he whispered.

Jude turned towards him. "Answer what?"

"My name."

"You told me your name was Sol."

The boy looked up.

For the first time since Jude had found him on the beach, there was something close to fear in his expression.

"That isn’t what I meant."

A deep knock sounded beneath the floor.

Once.

Twice.

Then three times.

Jude looked down.

The wooden boards between his feet had begun to separate. A thin silver light shone through the gaps.

"Sol, move."

The boy didn’t move.

Instead, he approached the book.

"Don’t touch it," Jude warned.

"I have to see something."

"You heard that voice."

"I know."

"Then why are you going towards the book?"

Sol stopped at the edge of the table. His fingers hovered above the silver leaf lying across the cover.

"Because it knows something about me."

The room shuddered again.

Jude grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away just as the table split down the middle. The ancient book slid into the opening, but it didn’t fall. It remained suspended above the dark gap, its pages fluttering wildly.

Every page turned at once.

The drawings blurred together.

The island.

The first house.

The thirteen figures.

The tree.

The child.

Then a new picture appeared.

It showed Jude standing in the circular room, holding Sol’s hand. Behind them stood the second Sol.

But there was something else.

A fourth figure stood between the two boys.

A woman.

Her face was hidden beneath a hood, but Jude recognised the silver embroidery on her sleeves.

"Layla?" he whispered.

Sol’s fingers tightened around his.

"No."

"Who is she?"

"I don’t know."

The drawing changed.

The hooded woman raised one hand. A thin silver thread stretched from her fingers to the first Sol’s chest.

Then the thread snapped.

The book slammed shut.

The gap in the floor closed with a loud crack.

And the room became silent.

Jude stared at the book.

"Whatever is happening here," he said, "we’re leaving."

Sol nodded, but he didn’t look relieved.

"Which way?"

Jude looked around.

The small wooden door through which they had entered was gone. The shelves had shifted, forming a solid wall. The room had no windows, no visible exits, and no ceiling beams from which they could climb.

There was only the table, the book, and the hundreds of objects.

Jude approached the nearest shelf.

A familiar wooden spoon lay among the strange things.

He picked it up.

It was the spoon Natalie used every morning to stir the large cooking pot in the shared house.