Chapter 1884

He looked at her.

For the first time, she was not giving him an order.

She was pleading.

"Please."

Jude held the key.

It was warm.

The moment his fingers closed around it, the entire room changed.

The table disappeared.

The chairs disappeared.

The walls dissolved.

And Jude was standing in a vast field beneath a sky filled with stars.

The tree was there.

But it was only a seedling.

Beside it stood the woman.

She was younger.

Her face was not Layla’s.

It was her own.

Beautiful, tired, and frightened.

She held a small wooden box.

A man stood opposite her.

His face was hidden by the darkness.

Between them were two children.

One was holding a wooden bird.

The other was holding a silver crescent.

The woman spoke.

"We cannot keep both."

The man answered:

"We promised."

"We promised too much."

"We can still undo it."

"How?"

The man looked at the seedling.

"Give the tree one."

The woman shook her head.

"No."

"Then give it the other."

"No."

"Then choose."

The woman looked at the children.

The child holding the wooden bird stepped forward.

"Mother?"

The woman closed her eyes.

The child holding the crescent reached for her.

"Don’t leave me."

The woman dropped the wooden box.

It opened.

Inside lay two small wooden birds.

One had silver eyes.

The other had dark eyes.

The man knelt.

He picked up the birds.

Then he looked at the woman.

"Which one?"

The woman began crying.

And the scene changed.

Jude was back in the little room.

The wooden key remained in his hand.

The older Jude stood beside him.

The woman was kneeling on the floor.

The two children were staring at Jude.

He looked down at the key.

A tiny symbol had appeared on its handle.

Two circles.

One silver.

One dark.

And beneath them, a name.

The name was not Jude.

It was the name he had heard in the darkness.

The name that had stopped the clocks.

The name he had remembered at the beach.

Jude looked at the older man.

"That’s my name."

The older Jude nodded.

"Yes."

"Who gave it to me?"

The older man looked towards the woman.

"She did."

Jude turned.

The woman looked up.

Her eyes were filled with tears.

"I gave it to the child I wanted to keep."

Jude stared.

"Which child?"

She looked at him.

"You."

The smallest Sol stepped forward.

"No."

The woman lowered her head.

"I am sorry."

The child shook his head.

"You gave him my name."

The room went silent

For several seconds, nobody moved.

The firepit continued to burn, but its flames had changed colour. The familiar orange and yellow had faded into a strange silver-blue glow, illuminating the faces gathered around it.

Jude looked at the Scarlet standing beside him.

Then he looked at the other Scarlet.

Both women were staring at him.

The one beside him had gone very still. Her fingers were wrapped around his wrist, and the wooden key rested between them. The other stood on the opposite side of the firepit, holding the little wooden bird in both hands.

Neither looked frightened.

That was what troubled Jude most.

"Hello, Father," the second Scarlet repeated.

Her voice was gentle. Almost affectionate.

Jude swallowed.

"Which one of you said that?"

The Scarlet beside him tightened her grip.

"Don’t answer her."

"I asked a question."

"And I told you not to answer her."

Across the firepit, the second Scarlet tilted her head.

"She’s always been good at that."

"At what?" Jude asked.

"Making people believe that silence is protection."

The first Scarlet stepped forward.

"Put the bird down."

The second Scarlet glanced at the wooden bird.

"Why?"

"Because you know what it does."

"Do I?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

The first Scarlet said nothing.

A soft knock sounded beneath their feet.

Everyone turned towards the ground.

One.

Two.

Three.

The same three knocks.

This time, however, they were followed by a long, dragging sound, as though something enormous were moving beneath the wooden floorboards of the village.

The flames in the firepit bent towards the ground.

Jude looked at the key.

Its silver crescent had unfolded completely. The three curved lines surrounding the central point were now visible, and a thin silver thread extended from the tip, disappearing between the gaps in the firepit stones.

"Don’t pull it," Scarlet whispered.

"I wasn’t going to."

"You were thinking about it."

Jude looked at her.

"How do you know?"

She stared at the key.

"Because I remember thinking the same thing."

The second Scarlet smiled.

"She remembers a great many things."

"Enough," the first Scarlet snapped.

The other woman lowered the bird.

For the first time, Jude noticed something unusual about her clothing. The second Scarlet wore the same clothes as the first, but the fabric was slightly older, its edges faded and worn. There was a small embroidered symbol near the collar: two circles, one silver and one dark.

Jude had seen that symbol before.

On the wooden key.

On the old pages beneath the tree.

And in the chamber with the thirteen pillars.

"Where did you get that bird?" he asked.

The second Scarlet looked down.

"I made it."

"Why?"

"Because someone asked me to."

"Who?"

She looked directly at him.

"You did."

Jude felt the first Scarlet’s hand tighten around his wrist.

"She’s lying."

"Then why are you frightened?" the second Scarlet asked.

"I’m not frightened."

"You’re holding his wrist so tightly that you’re hurting him."

Scarlet immediately released him.

Jude rubbed his wrist.

The second Scarlet looked almost pleased.

"See? She still does that."

"Does what?"

"Tries to make herself different from me."

The first Scarlet’s expression changed.

It was only for an instant, but Jude saw it.

A flicker of recognition.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

"Who are you?" he asked the second Scarlet.

She looked towards the wooden bird.

"I was the one who stayed."

The first Scarlet closed her eyes.

Jude turned towards her.

"Scarlet?"

"Don’t."

"Don’t what?"

"Don’t let her finish."