Chapter 1848

Jude looked at him.

The child seemed impossibly small beneath the towering doors.

"Why are you afraid?" Jude asked.

The boy swallowed.

"Because I don’t know whether I’m the one who belongs with you."

Jude’s expression softened.

"Then we’ll find out."

The child looked at him.

"You can’t promise that."

"I can promise that I won’t leave you here."

The boy stared at Jude for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

A sudden sound came from the nameless door.

A gentle tap.

"Jude?"

The voice was quieter now.

Almost a whisper.

"Can you do something for me?"

Jude didn’t answer.

"Can you tell me whether the tree is still alive?"

The fourth Sol slowly turned towards the door.

His eyes widened.

"What?" Jude whispered.

The voice behind the door repeated the question.

"Is the tree still alive?"

The boy moved closer.

"Don’t answer," he said.

Jude looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because he doesn’t know."

"Who doesn’t know?"

"The one behind the door."

The voice gave a small, tired laugh.

"I know perfectly well, Sol."

The child shook his head.

"No, you don’t."

"Of course I do."

"You asked because you can’t remember."

Silence.

Then the voice said something that made Jude’s blood run cold.

"I remember planting it."

The fourth Sol stepped backwards.

"No."

"I remember the seed."

"No."

"I remember the little room."

"Stop."

"And I remember the child who was sleeping beside it."

The boy covered his ears.

Jude caught his shoulders.

"Sol, look at me."

The child squeezed his eyes shut.

The nameless door began to glow.

A thin line of silver light appeared along its edges.

The voice spoke again.

"I remember you, little one."

The fourth Sol suddenly screamed.

"YOU LEFT ME THERE!"

The entire chamber shook.

The twelve doors burst open at once.

Jude was thrown backwards.

The wooden floor tilted, and the doors stretched into the distance like a corridor that had no end.

From every opening came a different scene.

Behind Susan’s door was the village garden.

Behind Rose’s was the central firepit.

Behind Serena’s was the northern cave.

Behind Layla’s was the river.

Behind Natalie’s was the shared house, warm and brightly lit.

But none of the scenes remained still.

They changed as Jude watched.

In the garden, Susan was planting a flower that immediately turned to ash.

At the firepit, Rose was sitting alone, surrounded by thirteen empty bowls.

In the cave, Serena stood before the circular stone platform, holding the silver disc.

At the river, Layla was walking towards a reflection that was not her own.

And inside the shared house, Natalie was standing beside a dining table.

She was not alone.

Someone sat opposite her.

A figure whose face was hidden beneath a hood.

Natalie looked up.

"Jude?"

He rushed towards her door.

The fourth Sol grabbed his arm.

"Wait!"

"She’s there!"

"Look at the table!"

Jude stopped.

Natalie was holding a cup.

The figure opposite her was holding an identical cup.

But there were thirteen cups on the table.

And fourteen shadows.

Jude stared.

Then the hooded figure slowly raised its head.

Its face was Jude’s.

Not the younger Jude.

Not the silver-haired older Jude.

It was Jude as he appeared now.

The figure smiled at Natalie.

She smiled back.

Then she said something Jude couldn’t hear.

The hooded figure nodded.

And Natalie placed her hand in its.

Jude slammed his palm against the door.

"NATALIE!"

She turned.

Her smile disappeared.

For a brief moment, she looked directly at him.

Her lips moved.

He couldn’t hear her, but he understood the words.

Don’t let him choose.

Then the scene vanished.

The door slammed shut.

Jude stumbled backwards.

"What did she mean?"

The fourth Sol was staring at the nameless door.

"She wasn’t talking about the one behind the door."

"Then who?"

The child looked at Jude.

"You."

A deep rumble passed through the chamber.

The twelve doors began closing one by one.

The first was Susan’s.

Then Rose’s.

Then Serena’s.

The remaining doors followed, each shutting with a soft, final sound.

Only the nameless door remained open a fraction.

The voice behind it whispered:

"You don’t remember the first time you chose."

Jude stared at the gap.

"What choice?"

The voice answered immediately.

"You chose the world."

The fourth Sol looked at Jude.

"You chose the tree."

The voice continued.

"You chose the house."

"You chose the promises."

"You chose the children."

The door creaked.

"And then you chose to forget."

Jude felt something move inside his head.

A memory.

Not a complete one.

A fragment.

A small room.

A window.

A tree growing through the ceiling.

A man sitting beside a bed.

A child asking whether the tree could remember things that never happened.

And another child standing outside the room, crying.

Jude gripped his forehead.

"Stop."

The voice behind the door became gentle.

"I’m sorry."

The fourth Sol moved closer.

"Don’t remember."

"Why?"

"Because the first memory isn’t yours."

Jude looked at him.

The child was trembling again.

"Then whose is it?"

The boy whispered:

"Mine."

The nameless door opened another inch.

A pale hand appeared through the gap.

It rested against the edge.

The fingers were long and thin.

A silver ring circled the index finger.

Jude recognised it.

He had seen that ring before.

On the hand of the silver-haired older Jude.

The hand slowly withdrew.

Then the door opened completely.

A man stood behind it.

He was dressed in an old dark coat, and his hair was black with a single silver streak running from his temple. He looked neither young nor old. His face carried no obvious sign of age, yet his eyes held the weariness of someone who had watched entire worlds disappear.

He looked at Jude.

Then he smiled.

"My son."

Jude couldn’t move.

The fourth Sol began backing away.

The man glanced at him.

"And there you are."

The boy shook his head.

"No."

The man took one step forward.

"Come here."

"No."

"It’s all right."

"You said you would come back."