Chapter 1835

The silver crescent on his wrist unfolded completely.

The three pieces separated and floated before him.

The central point began glowing.

Then the figure inside the cradle moved.

A small hand emerged from beneath the pale cloth.

It reached towards Sol.

And a voice came from the cradle.

Not the older Jude.

Not the second Sol.

Not the house.

A child’s voice.

"Brother."

Sol stopped breathing.

The older Jude fell to his knees.

And from somewhere beneath the mountain, the ancient bell rang fourteen times.

Then the voice spoke again.

"Why did you bring him back, Father?"

Jude turned towards the older man.

The older Jude looked up at him.

His eyes were full of terror.

"Because," he whispered, "I was never supposed to be the one who returned."

The figure in the cradle pushed the cloth away.

And Jude finally saw its face.

It was Sol.

Not the first Sol.

Not the second.

A third identical boy.

But this one opened his eyes and looked directly at Jude.

Then he smiled.

"Hello, Keeper."

The thirteen pillars began to rise.

And the broken thirteenth pillar slowly turned towards Jude.

The broken pillar turned with a sound like an enormous tree being uprooted.

Jude couldn’t look away from the third child.

He was lying inside the wooden cradle, wrapped in pale cloth, his dark hair spread across the small pillow. His face was identical to Sol’s, but there was something unsettling about the way he watched them. He didn’t look frightened, confused, or even curious.

He looked as though he had been expecting them for a very long time.

"Hello, Keeper," the child repeated.

Jude slowly turned towards the older version of himself.

"What is this?"

The older man remained on his knees.

"Don’t answer him."

The child in the cradle smiled.

"Father always says that."

Sol took a step towards the platform.

"Who are you?"

The third child turned his head.

"You know who I am."

"No."

"You used to know."

Sol shook his head.

"I don’t know you."

The child looked towards the older Jude.

"See? He has forgotten again."

The older man stood.

"Be quiet."

The child laughed softly.

It was a small, ordinary laugh, the kind Jude had heard from Sol when one of the women made a silly mistake during dinner. But coming from the cradle, surrounded by thirteen enormous pillars and an ancient chamber beneath the mountain, it felt horribly out of place.

"You’re angry," the child said.

The older Jude stepped towards the platform.

"Stay where you are."

"I haven’t moved."

"You know what I mean."

The child looked at Jude.

"Do you know why the mountain has been calling?"

Jude didn’t respond.

"Because it is tired of waiting."

A deep vibration passed through the chamber.

The silver threads connecting the twelve standing pillars began to glow. They stretched towards the broken thirteenth pillar, but stopped just short of touching it.

The pillar was different from the others. Its surface was covered in deep cracks, and its upper section had been carved into the shape of a tree with no leaves.

At its base was a small inscription.

Jude approached it.

The letters were old, but he could read them.

THE ONE WHO WAS LEFT MUST RETURN.

He looked at the older Jude.

"Who was left?"

The older man didn’t answer.

The child in the cradle did.

"Me."

Sol turned sharply.

"You?"

"Yes."

"You were left here?"

The child nodded.

"While you went outside."

Sol stared at him.

"Why?"

The child looked at the older Jude.

"Ask Father."

The older man closed his eyes.

Jude stepped between the two children.

"I’m asking you."

The child smiled.

"You always want answers before you’re ready to hear them."

"Then make me ready."

For the first time, the child in the cradle stopped smiling.

He lifted his little hand and pointed towards the twelve pillars.

"Those are the people you brought to the island."

Jude looked around.

The carvings on the pillars began changing.

The faces of his twelve wives appeared on them.

Susan.

Rose.

Serena.

Layla.

Natalie.

Zoey.

Lucy.

Stella.

Emma.

Grace.

Sophie.

Scarlet.

Each face was carved into a different pillar.

Jude moved closer.

The carvings looked remarkably lifelike. He could see the details of their expressions, even the tiny lines around their eyes.

"Why are their faces here?"

"Because the first house remembers them."

"Why?"

"Because they were part of the promise."

"What promise?"

The child looked at the older Jude.

The older man finally spoke.

"The promise that would keep the island alive."

Jude turned towards him.

"Explain."

The older Jude approached the broken pillar.

"Before the island became what you know, there was a world beneath the roots of the great tree. It had forests, rivers, mountains, houses and people. It was not a place that could be reached by sailing across the sea. It existed through a connection between the living world and something much older."

Jude listened.

The older man continued.

"The first house stood at the centre of that world. It was built around a tree that had been growing long before the first people arrived. The people believed the tree remembered everything. Every promise, every birth, every departure, every name."

He touched the broken pillar.

"They were right."

The silver threads shivered.

"But remembering everything has a price. The tree began holding things that should have been allowed to pass. It kept promises long after the people who made them were gone. It kept names belonging to people who no longer existed. It kept the voices of those who had left."

Jude looked at the cradle.

"And the children?"

The older Jude’s expression changed.

"There were two."

Sol went still.

The third child watched them.

"Two children," Jude repeated.

"Yes. Two boys who were born beneath the tree."

"Were they twins?"

The older man hesitated.

"They were brothers."

The child in the cradle smiled again.

"I’m the older one."

Sol looked at him.

"Then who am I?"

The child tilted his head.