Chapter 1853

For several seconds, Jude could not move.

The words on the photograph seemed to have burned themselves into his mind.

YOU ARE THE COPY.

The man sitting at the table watched him patiently, as though he had expected this reaction. He had Jude’s face, Jude’s voice, even the same small crease between his eyebrows that appeared whenever he was trying to understand something complicated.

But his expression was different.

He looked at Jude with the calm certainty of someone looking at an object that had finally been returned to its rightful owner.

"Come closer," he said.

Jude remained where he was.

"Who are you?"

The man glanced at the photograph.

"I believe you have already worked that out."

"I haven’t."

"Then perhaps you should ask the children."

Jude turned towards the four Sols.

All four were watching him.

The first child had the familiar carved wooden bird in his hands. The second wore the crescent pendant. The third had a silver line across his wrist. The fourth, the one who had called the stranger Mother, stood closest to the dining table.

"Do you know him?" Jude asked.

The first child nodded.

The second shook his head.

The third whispered, "We remember him."

The fourth said nothing.

Jude looked at the woman holding the wooden box.

"You said the first Jude never left the house."

She nodded.

"Then who am I?"

The woman looked at him for a long moment.

"You are the promise that was made after he disappeared."

Jude stared.

"That doesn’t make any sense."

"It wasn’t supposed to."

The man at the table chuckled.

"She always was terrible at explaining things."

The woman turned towards him.

"And you were always terrible at accepting the truth."

The man smiled.

"Truth is an interesting word coming from you."

The woman lowered her eyes.

Jude stepped between them.

"Enough. Both of you. I want answers."

The man leaned back.

"Very well."

He gestured towards the empty chair opposite him.

"Sit."

Jude looked at the chair.

It was made of dark wood, with silver roots woven around its legs. The seat was covered in a pale embroidered cloth.

He recognised it.

It was the cloth from the first house.

The same cloth that had appeared around the wooden key.

The same cloth Layla had worn when the house made another version of her.

Jude did not sit.

The man sighed.

"Still stubborn."

"Tell me what happened."

"You happened."

Jude’s jaw tightened.

"Explain."

The man looked at the twelve women standing behind him.

"Do you know why there are twelve doors?"

Nobody answered.

"Because there were twelve promises," he continued. "Twelve people who stood beside the first Keeper and asked the world to remember them."

Susan frowned.

"We never made those promises."

"Not you."

The man tapped the table.

"Your first versions."

Rose looked at him.

"What do you mean, our first versions?"

The man smiled.

"Would you like to see?"

He lifted his hand.

The wooden table began to change.

Its surface became transparent, revealing a dark space beneath it. Silver threads stretched through that space, connecting twelve small lights.

One by one, the lights became images.

Twelve women stood in a forest.

They wore simple pale clothes, and their hair was arranged differently from the women Jude knew. They looked younger in some ways, older in others. Their faces were familiar, but their expressions carried a sadness that Jude had never seen in his wives.

They stood around a small wooden house.

A thirteenth figure was visible inside it.

A man.

Jude.

Or someone who looked exactly like him.

The man at the table spoke softly.

"They were the first to arrive."

The images changed.

The twelve women were now standing beneath an enormous tree. Its branches stretched into a darkness filled with tiny lights.

The man inside the house walked towards them.

One woman stepped forward.

She placed her hand against the tree.

The others followed.

A silver thread appeared around each woman’s wrist.

Then the man spoke.

Jude could not hear the words.

But he saw the women nod.

The scene changed again.

The tree grew.

The forest disappeared.

Mountains rose from the ground.

A river appeared.

Then the sea.

The island.

The women were still standing beneath the tree.

The man at the table watched Jude.

"They gave the world twelve promises. The first house kept those promises alive."

Jude looked at the images.

"What happened to them?"

The man did not answer immediately.

The scene changed once more.

The twelve women stood around the house.

A shadow moved beneath the roots.

The silver threads tightened.

One by one, the women disappeared.

The image went dark.

Susan stepped forward.

"Are you saying those women were us?"

"No," the man replied. "I’m saying you are connected to them."

"That’s not the same thing."

"No. It isn’t."

Serena studied the images.

"Then why do we look alike?"

The man looked at her.

"Because the house remembers faces."

"Can it remember anything it wants?"

"Almost."

"Then how do we know anything about us is real?"

The man smiled faintly.

"That’s a very good question."

Jude struck the table with his palm.

"Stop avoiding the questions!"

The images disappeared.

The man looked at him.

"You want to know who you are? Then ask yourself what you remember about the day you arrived on this island."

Jude frowned.

"I remember arriving."

"Do you?"

"I remember the beach."

"Which beach?"

"The one where we found Sol."

The man tilted his head.

"Before that."

Jude fell silent.

He tried to picture it.

The journey.

The arrival.

The first day.

But his memories seemed to become strangely indistinct whenever he reached further back than the village.

He remembered the women.

He remembered the houses.

He remembered the gardens.

He remembered the first nights.

But the journey to the island remained a blank space.

He looked at the man.

"I don’t remember."

The man nodded.

"Exactly."

Jude felt a cold sensation travel through him.

"Why?"

"Because you were not brought here."

"Then how did I get here?"

The man leaned forward.