Chapter 1855

The first Sol looked up.

"Which one of us is supposed to remain?"

The man did not answer.

The second Sol whispered, "Which one of us is supposed to disappear?"

The third looked towards the empty chair.

"Which one of us was never meant to exist?"

The fourth child turned towards Jude.

"Which one of us did you promise to save?"

The man closed his eyes.

Jude looked at him.

"You said you made the first promise."

"Yes."

"Then you must know the answer."

The man opened his eyes.

"I know what I wanted."

"That isn’t the same thing."

"No."

"Then tell me what happened."

The man looked at the children.

Then he spoke.

"The first child was born in the room before the house. He was the one who asked for the tree. He was the one who wanted the darkness to have something beautiful in it."

The first Sol slowly raised his head.

The man continued.

"The second child was born when the tree began remembering things that had never happened."

The second Sol touched his pendant.

"The third child was born when the first house tried to correct its own memories."

The third Sol looked down at his hands.

"And the fourth?"

The man went silent.

The fourth child looked up.

Jude felt his fingers tighten.

"Tell me."

The man looked at Jude.

"The fourth was made to replace the first Keeper."

The child released Jude’s hand.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then the fourth Sol took a small step backwards.

"Replace him?"

The man nodded.

"Someone had to remain in the house."

The boy looked towards the empty chair.

"And who was supposed to leave?"

The man did not answer.

The child understood.

He turned towards Jude.

"You?"

Jude looked at the man.

The man lowered his head.

The fourth Sol’s voice became very small.

"You made me so he could leave?"

The man said nothing.

"You made me so he could have a life?"

Still nothing.

The boy stared at him.

"Then why did you leave me?"

The man’s expression crumpled.

"I tried to come back."

"You didn’t."

"I know."

"You said I would have a family."

"I know."

"You said there would be a house."

"I know."

"You said I would have a name."

The man closed his eyes.

The child looked at Jude.

Then he whispered:

"Do you know what my name is?"

Jude felt his throat tighten.

He looked at the child.

The small crescent pendant.

The dark hair.

The wooden bird.

The familiar face.

"Sol," Jude said.

The boy looked at him.

"That’s what everyone calls me."

"Then that’s your name."

The child stared for a moment.

Then he nodded.

"Sol."

The word seemed to echo through the dining room.

The four children all looked at one another.

The man at the table suddenly stepped forward.

"No!"

But it was too late.

Every wooden bird in the room opened its eyes.

The twelve doors appeared again.

The house shuddered.

And the empty chair at the far end of the table began to glow.

The stranger with the wooden box gasped.

"You’ve named him."

Jude turned.

"What?"

"You’ve given him a name."

The man looked horrified.

"You shouldn’t have done that."

Jude stared at him.

"Why?"

"Because the tree has been waiting for it."

A deep bell rang beneath the floor.

The silver threads around the chair tightened.

A new inscription appeared across its back.

SOL — THE ONE WHO REMEMBERS.

The fourth child looked at it.

Then he looked at Jude.

"I remember," he whispered.

"What?"

The child touched his chest.

"My room."

A second bell rang.

The first Sol stepped forward.

"I remember too."

The second Sol looked towards the ceiling.

"So do I."

The third child began crying.

"I remember the tree."

The four children moved closer to one another.

The man rushed towards them.

"Separate them!"

The woman with the wooden box grabbed his arm.

"It’s too late."

"Separate them!"

"They have already remembered."

The four children stood in a circle.

Their pendants began unfolding.

Silver and dark circles appeared beneath each crescent.

The symbols rotated in opposite directions.

Jude looked at the floor.

The two hearts beneath the house were beginning to turn.

One silver.

One dark.

The twelve small markings around them began illuminating.

Then the thirteenth.

And finally, a fourteenth.

The woman dropped the wooden box.

The seed rolled across the floor.

It stopped at Jude’s feet.

The seed cracked.

A tiny green shoot emerged.

The man stared at it.

"No."

The shoot grew taller.

A thin stem.

Two small leaves.

Then a delicate white flower.

The flower opened.

Inside it was a tiny eye.

Jude stepped backwards.

The eye blinked.

And a voice emerged from the flower.

"Thank you for remembering me."

The man at the table collapsed into his chair.

The woman covered her mouth.

The four children stopped moving.

The voice continued.

"I have waited beneath the roots for a very long time."

Jude stared at the flower.

"Who are you?"

The eye turned towards him.

"I am the promise that came before the first promise."

The room became completely silent.

The flower’s petals began to close.

Then the voice spoke again.

"And I have come to collect what was borrowed."

A crack appeared across the dining table.

The thirteen plates shattered.

The chairs began sliding backwards.

The twelve doors opened simultaneously, revealing not rooms but endless corridors filled with pale light.

The wives gathered around Jude.

Susan took his arm.

"What is happening?"

Jude looked towards the flower.

"I don’t know."

The woman with the wooden box slowly backed away.

"You must leave."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

The man at the table stood.

"Don’t listen to her."

The woman turned towards him.

"You know what it is."

He shook his head.

"I know what it wants."

"What does it want?" Jude demanded.

The man looked at the four children.

Then at the twelve wives.

Then at Jude.

"It wants the first promise."

Jude looked at the flower.