Chapter 1861

The island had eyes. Jude could not understand what he was seeing. Beyond the little room, beyond the window, the darkness had opened into something impossibly vast.

The island floated in the middle of it, surrounded by a silver sea that had no horizon. Its mountains, rivers, forests and wooden houses were visible from above, but they were not arranged as Jude remembered them.

The northern mountain stood at the centre.

The eastern river flowed around it in a perfect circle.

The western meadow stretched towards a forest that seemed to continue beneath the sea.

And the village was not on the island’s surface.

It was growing from the roots of an enormous tree.

The tree extended beneath the entire island, its branches forming the ground, its roots reaching into the silver darkness. The houses were attached to its branches. The walkways were its smaller veins. The river was flowing through a hollow inside its trunk.

The island was not sitting upon the tree.

It was the tree.

Jude stepped towards the window.

The child standing beside it raised one hand.

"Don’t touch it."

Jude stopped.

"What is that?"

The child looked outside.

"Everything."

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the answer I was given."

Jude turned towards him.

"Who gave it to you?"

The child looked at Jude with an expression that seemed far too familiar.

"You did."

A tremendous sound rolled through the darkness.

It was not thunder.

It sounded like something enormous shifting in its sleep.

The island tilted.

Far below, the village houses began sliding along the branches. Wooden bridges stretched and snapped. The central firepit disappeared beneath a curtain of roots, while the orchard’s trees bent towards the northern mountain.

Jude rushed towards the window.

"What’s happening?"

The child pressed his palm against the wooden frame.

"The island is remembering where it came from."

"Then make it stop!"

"I can’t."

"You said you were the one who made me!"

The child looked at him.

"I didn’t make you."

"You said I was the one who wanted to leave."

"You did."

"Then what are you?"

The child looked out into the darkness.

"I’m the part of you that stayed."

Jude shook his head.

"I don’t understand."

The child turned.

"Before the tree, there were two of us."

The room became quiet.

"Two?"

The child nodded.

"One wanted to see what was beyond the darkness. The other wanted to stay where everything was familiar."

Jude felt a strange pressure behind his eyes.

The memory of the two boys in the little room seemed to grow clearer.

One had stood beside the window.

The other had sat on the bed.

One had wanted to leave.

The other had been afraid.

"Which one were you?" Jude asked.

The child smiled sadly.

"I was the one who asked you not to go."

A crack travelled across the window.

The darkness outside rippled.

Then something moved beyond the island.

Jude leaned closer.

At first, he thought it was a cloud.

Then he saw the shape of a hand.

An enormous hand, made from the same darkness surrounding the island, stretched towards the tree.

Its fingers were longer than the northern mountain.

They moved slowly, feeling their way through the silver sea.

The child stepped away from the window.

"It’s coming."

"What is?"

"The thing that was outside."

Jude looked at him.

"You mean the thing you were afraid of?"

The child nodded.

"Why?"

"Because it wanted to come inside."

The enormous hand touched the edge of the island.

Every root trembled.

The northern mountain split with a sound like a thousand doors opening at once.

A blue light erupted from its depths.

Jude saw something beneath the mountain.

A chamber.

Then another.

Then another.

An endless sequence of rooms, descending through the roots of the tree.

At the very bottom was a small circular space.

Inside it stood a cradle.

The third Sol was there.

He was sitting upright, looking towards the window.

And beside him stood the silver-haired older Jude.

The older man raised his head.

Even from that impossible distance, Jude could see his expression.

He was terrified.

He lifted one hand and pointed towards the darkness beyond the island.

Then he mouthed something.

Jude couldn’t hear him.

But he understood the words.

It remembers us.

The enormous hand tightened around the island.

The little room shook.

The child beside the window suddenly grabbed Jude’s sleeve.

"Close it!"

Jude rushed towards the frame.

He tried to pull it shut, but the wooden edges had begun to stretch. Silver roots were growing through the hinges, twisting around the frame.

"Help me!"

The child pushed with both hands.

The window moved an inch.

Then stopped.

A voice came from outside.

It was not the voice of a man or a woman.

It was the sound of countless voices speaking together, so softly that Jude could barely distinguish the words.

"Little one."

The child froze.

The voice spoke again.

"You have grown."

Jude looked at the child.

"Don’t listen."

But the child was staring outside.

The enormous hand slowly opened.

Something appeared in its palm.

A small wooden room.

The same room.

The same bed.

The same table.

The same window.

And two children sitting inside.

Jude stared.

He was looking at another version of the room.

From the outside.

The two children were arguing.

One was standing beside the window.

The other was sitting on the bed.

The child beside Jude whispered, "No."

The scene in the enormous hand changed.

The two children were now standing beneath the tree.

One held a wooden bird.

The other held a seed.

The child with the seed was crying.

The one with the bird was trying to comfort him.

Then the scene changed again.

The two children were gone.

In their place stood the first house.

The enormous voice spoke.

"Give me the one who stayed."

The child beside Jude stepped backwards.

Jude moved in front of him.

"No."

The voice seemed to consider the answer.