Chapter 1844

The darkness there had changed.

A thin line of blue light had appeared along the mountain’s highest ridge. It stretched from one side to the other, like a crack in the night sky.

Then the entire mountain shuddered.

The ground beneath the village shifted.

Somewhere, a wooden walkway snapped.

"Everyone away from the houses!" Jude shouted.

The wives moved together, gathering around the central firepit. Serena and Scarlet took positions on either side of the children. Sophie caught the younger Jude by the arm before he could move towards the northern path.

But the boy beside Natalie did not follow them.

He stood staring at the house.

"Sol," Natalie said gently. "Come here."

He didn’t move.

"Sol?"

The child slowly raised his wrist.

The silver crescent pendant began to unfold.

Its curved edges separated like delicate pieces of a mechanical flower. Beneath them was the familiar symbol: three curved lines surrounding a central point.

But this time, something else appeared.

A second circle.

Dark and perfectly round.

It formed beneath the silver symbol, turning slowly in the opposite direction.

The wooden bird in Jude’s hands gave a sharp crack.

A silver thread snapped.

From inside the bird came a faint whisper.

"Not that one."

Jude looked at the boy.

"Which one?"

The child’s eyes moved towards the younger Jude.

"That one."

The younger Jude stared at him.

For the first time since appearing in the village, he looked genuinely frightened.

"Don’t listen to him," he said.

"Why?" Jude demanded.

"Because he knows what I did."

"What did you do?"

The younger Jude swallowed.

"I opened the first door."

The child shook his head.

"No."

The younger Jude’s face tightened.

"I brought the first house into the world."

"No."

"I made the promise."

The child stepped forward.

"No."

His voice had changed.

It was no longer the uncertain voice of a frightened boy.

It sounded older.

Not in the way a child imitates an adult, but in the way a distant voice can seem to carry the weight of centuries.

"You didn’t make the promise," the child said. "You were made because of it."

The younger Jude stared at him.

Then he looked at Jude.

"Don’t let him say another word."

But the child continued.

"You remember the room before the tree?"

The younger Jude’s face went pale.

"You remember the dark before the island?"

The blue line along the northern mountain widened.

"You remember what was waiting before there was a world to remember?"

The younger Jude suddenly dropped his wooden bird.

It struck the ground.

The carved wings opened.

Inside its hollow body was a tiny silver key.

Jude looked at it.

Then at the bird in his own hands.

The two wooden birds began vibrating.

The first Sol’s voice emerged from the one Jude held.

"Jude... listen carefully."

"I am listening."

"Look at their shadows."

Jude glanced down.

The village was illuminated by the strange blue light coming from the mountain, and the shadows of everyone stretched across the ground.

The wives’ shadows pointed towards the western meadow.

The younger Jude’s shadow pointed towards the firepit.

The child beside Natalie had no shadow at all.

Jude’s own shadow pointed towards the shared house.

But there was another shadow.

It stretched from beneath the newly formed house, long and narrow, passing through the feet of everyone gathered there.

It ended at Jude’s own shadow.

And it was holding his hand.

Jude stepped backwards.

The strange shadow moved with him.

He stopped.

It stopped.

He raised his right hand.

The shadow raised its left.

Then, very slowly, it lifted its head.

Jude felt his stomach tighten.

There was no person standing at the end of it.

Only darkness.

Yet the darkness seemed to be looking directly at him.

"Jude," the bird whispered. "Don’t let it recognise you."

"What is it?"

"I don’t know."

"You said you knew!"

"I know what it wants. I don’t know what it is."

The shadow stretched further.

A thin black line crawled over the ground and touched Jude’s shoe.

The moment it did, he heard a voice.

His own voice.

Not the younger Jude’s.

Not the older Jude’s.

His own.

But it sounded distant, as though it were speaking from the other side of a very thick wall.

"Finally."

Jude jerked away.

The black line remained where it was.

Then a second line emerged from beneath the house.

And a third.

They moved towards the twelve women.

"Get back!" Jude shouted.

The wives scattered.

But the lines did not chase them.

They travelled directly towards their shadows.

One reached Susan.

Another reached Rose.

A third moved towards Serena.

The women tried to step away, but the black lines followed every movement.

Then the figures behind the windows began speaking again.

"Bring the promises home."

"Bring the promises home."

"Bring the promises home."

The words became louder with each repetition.

The house began to grow.

Its roof rose above the trees. Its walls extended into the darkness. Roots spread through the village, climbing the treehouses and wrapping around the wooden walkways.

A window appeared where there had been none.

Behind it stood the silver-haired older Jude.

His hands were pressed against the glass.

He looked directly at Jude.

Then he mouthed two words.

Not the children.

Jude turned towards the three boys.

The child beside Natalie.

The younger Jude near the firepit.

And the voice inside the wooden bird.

Three different versions of the same mystery.

Three children, perhaps.

Three memories.

Or three pieces of something that had once been whole.

"Which one of you is the real Sol?" Jude shouted.

The child beside Natalie looked at him.

The younger Jude lowered his head.

The bird remained silent.

Then, from inside the house, another voice answered.

"I am."

The front wall split open.

A doorway appeared.

Beyond it was the circular chamber beneath the northern mountain, with thirteen pillars arranged around the cradle.

But the cradle was empty.

At the centre of the room stood a boy.