Chapter 1826

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.

Beside it was a little blue ribbon that belonged to Zoey.

A chipped green cup that Serena always used.

A small silver hairpin that Sophie had lost several days before they found the cave.

Jude slowly turned towards Sol.

"These are things from our village."

Sol nodded.

"Why are they here?"

"Because the first house remembers."

"Remembers what?"

"Everything that has ever belonged to it."

Jude placed the spoon back carefully.

"Then it must know how to get us out."

Sol didn’t answer.

Jude examined the shelf again. Behind the green cup was a small wooden frame. He pulled it forward.

Inside was a faded drawing of the village.

The twenty houses were arranged around the central firepit. The eastern river ran beside the farms, and the northern mountains rose behind the settlement.

But the drawing was wrong.

There were twenty-one houses.

Jude counted them again.

Twenty-one.

One stood beyond the northern path, beneath the mountain trees. It was larger than the others, with a roof covered in silver leaves.

At its entrance stood a small figure.

Jude recognised the shape of the pendant around its wrist.

"Sol."

The boy approached.

He looked at the drawing for several seconds.

Then he stepped back.

"That’s not supposed to be there."

"What is it?"

"The house."

"Which house?"

Sol’s voice became almost inaudible.

"The one I came from."

Before Jude could ask another question, the frame cracked.

A thin line appeared across the glass, beginning at the little figure’s wrist and travelling all the way to the roof of the twenty-first house.

The drawing began to darken.

A voice came from the shelf.

"Keeper."

Jude spun around.

Nothing stood behind him.

"Keeper," the voice repeated.

This time it came from the wooden frame.

"Do you remember the first house?"

Jude took a step towards it.

"No."

The frame creaked.

"Do you remember the first child?"

Sol moved behind Jude.

"Don’t answer."

The voice continued.

"Do you remember the name you gave him?"

Jude’s stomach tightened.

He looked at Sol.

The boy’s expression had changed. His eyes were fixed on the drawing, and his lips were moving silently, as if he were trying to remember something.

"Sol," Jude said quietly.

The boy blinked.

"Look at me."

Sol turned.

"Your name is Sol. That’s what you told us. That’s what we call you. You don’t have to remember anything else right now."

The boy stared at him.

For a moment, the fear in his face softened.

Then the wooden frame spoke again.

"Liar."

Every object on the shelves turned towards Jude.

Not moved.

Turned.

The cups, the spoons, the toys, the little wooden animals, and the old books all rotated until their openings and carved faces pointed directly at him.

The frame split apart.

A black hand emerged from inside it.

Jude pulled Sol behind him.

The hand stretched across the shelf, its fingers unfolding like the roots of a tree.

Then a second hand appeared.

And a third.

They were not reaching for Jude.

They were reaching for Sol.

"Run!"

Jude grabbed the boy and raced towards the opposite side of the room.

The wooden floor shifted beneath them. Shelves folded inward, forming a narrow passage. Jude ducked beneath a falling beam, keeping Sol close.

Behind them, the hands crawled across the walls.

They didn’t make footsteps.

They made the sound of pages turning.

Jude reached the end of the passage and found a narrow staircase spiralling upwards.

"Go!"

Sol climbed first.

Jude followed, hearing the room below rearranging itself.

The staircase seemed impossibly long. The wooden walls were covered in small carvings, each showing a different scene.

A woman standing beside a river.

A man carrying a lantern.

A group of people gathered around a fire.

A little boy sitting beneath a tree.

Jude recognised some of the figures.

The women.

His wives.

He stopped at one carving.

It showed Layla standing in front of a wooden door. Her hand rested against the doorframe, and her expression was strangely peaceful.

Beneath her feet was a silver inscription.

THE FIRST TO RETURN IS NOT ALWAYS THE FIRST TO LEAVE.

"Jude!"

Sol’s voice came from above.

Jude hurried up the remaining steps.

At the top was a circular landing with three doors.

The first was made of dark wood.

The second was covered in silver leaves.

The third was painted white.

Each door had a name carved into it.

The dark wooden door read JUDE.

The silver door read SOL.

The white door read LAYLA.

Jude stared at them.

"Which one?"

Sol approached the silver door.

"None."

"Then why are there three?"

"Because the house wants us to choose."

"What happens if we do?"

"I don’t know."

A soft knocking came from behind the white door.

Three gentle taps.

Then a familiar voice.

"Jude?"

He froze.

"Jude, are you there?"

It was Layla.

Not the strange woman who had returned wearing the pale embroidered cloth.

Not the voice from the corridor.

This sounded like the Layla he knew.

"Please," she whispered. "Open the door."

Jude took a step forward.

Sol caught his hand.

"Don’t."

"That’s Layla."

"No."

"You don’t know that."

Sol looked at the white door.

"I know that voice."

The knocking came again.

"Jude, it’s dark in here."

Jude moved closer.

"Layla, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"Inside."

"Inside what?"

There was a pause.

"The place where you left me."

Jude’s heart began to pound.

Sol shook his head.

"That’s not her."

The voice behind the door changed.

Not dramatically. Not into something monstrous.

It simply became quieter.

"Jude, you promised you wouldn’t leave me."

Jude closed his eyes.

He remembered the chamber beneath the mountain. The pale cloth. The wooden key. The duplicate Layla standing in their shared house.

He remembered the other Layla, the one who had disappeared through the underground wall.