Chapter 1886

The first Scarlet moved closer to Jude.

"Don’t look at them."

"They’re children."

"Not all of them."

"What does that mean?"

She didn’t answer.

The second Scarlet walked towards the little door in the firepit.

The bird in her hands began making a faint clicking sound.

Jude hurried after her.

"Stop!"

She looked back.

"You’re going to have to choose eventually."

"Choose what?"

"Which one of us gets to go home."

Jude caught her arm.

She felt warm.

The first Scarlet had been cold.

Not painfully cold, but cold enough that Jude had noticed it when she touched his wrist.

He looked at the two women again.

The second Scarlet looked down at his hand.

"You’re learning."

Jude released her.

"Why are you different?"

"Because she remembers the day after."

"And you?"

"I remember the day before."

The first Scarlet stepped towards them.

"That’s not how it happened."

"Then tell him."

Scarlet looked at Jude.

Her lips parted.

But no words came.

The second woman continued.

"You see, Father, that’s the problem. She can remember the village. She can remember the women. She can remember the firepit, the river, the mountain, and even the first house."

She lifted the wooden bird.

"But she cannot remember the room."

Jude looked at Scarlet.

"Which room?"

The first Scarlet’s expression became unreadable.

"The room where we were made."

The second Scarlet nodded.

"Exactly."

The silver thread from Jude’s key suddenly tightened.

The wooden door in the firepit opened.

There was no darkness beneath it.

Instead, Jude saw a narrow staircase descending into a room illuminated by hundreds of small lights.

He could hear someone moving below.

A child humming.

A familiar tune.

The same tune Sol had hummed on the beach.

Jude felt the first Scarlet go rigid.

"No," she whispered.

The second Scarlet looked towards the stairs.

"She’s waiting."

"Who?" Jude asked.

The second Scarlet did not answer.

Instead, she placed the wooden bird on the first step.

It immediately unfolded.

Its wooden wings separated into thin, delicate pieces. Its carved body opened like a little box, revealing a tiny silver disc inside.

The same disc they had found on the beach.

The same symbol.

Three curved lines surrounding a central point.

The disc began spinning.

And the humming stopped.

A child’s voice came from below.

"Father?"

Jude’s heart seemed to stop.

It was Sol.

But not the Sol standing near the shared house.

Not the Sol who had followed him through the forest.

This voice sounded younger.

More uncertain.

"Father, are you there?"

Jude stepped towards the staircase.

Scarlet grabbed his arm.

"Don’t go down."

"That’s Sol."

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because I remember him."

The voice below called again.

"Father, please."

Jude stared into the staircase.

A small hand appeared around the edge of the bottom step.

Then a second hand.

A child began climbing.

One step.

Then another.

Jude waited.

The child emerged into the firelight.

He was smaller than the Sol they knew, perhaps by several years. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his clothes were unfamiliar, made from pale fabric with silver stitching.

Around his wrist was a crescent pendant.

He looked at Jude.

Then at Scarlet.

Then at the second Scarlet.

His face changed.

"You’re both here."

The first Scarlet stepped backwards.

The second Scarlet whispered something Jude couldn’t hear.

The child smiled.

"I thought you said there could only be one."

Neither woman answered.

Jude crouched slightly.

"Who are you?"

The boy looked at him as though the question hurt.

"Don’t you remember?"

"No."

The boy glanced towards the mountain.

"Then she’s right."

"Who?"

He pointed at the second Scarlet.

"Mother."

The second Scarlet’s expression broke.

For the first time since appearing, she looked genuinely frightened.

"Don’t call me that."

The boy tilted his head.

"But you told me to."

"I never told you that."

"You did."

"When?"

"Before the tree."

The first Scarlet shook her head.

"That’s not possible."

The child looked at her.

"You were there too."

"Stop."

"You were holding the other bird."

"Stop!"

The boy flinched.

The wooden bird on the staircase made a sharp clicking sound.

Then the firepit went out.

Not gradually.

Not because of the wind.

Every flame vanished at once.

The village fell into darkness.

A moment later, the silver lights beneath the firepit brightened.

Jude could see the child clearly.

He could also see something standing behind him.

A tall figure.

Its shape was almost human, but its head was hidden beneath a thick covering of roots.

Silver threads hung from its shoulders.

Its arms were too long.

And where its face should have been, there was a smooth wooden surface with a small circular hole in the centre.

The figure leaned down towards the child.

The child didn’t turn.

"You’re late," he said.

The figure made no sound.

Then it raised one long hand and placed it on the boy’s head.

Jude stepped forward.

"Get away from him!"

The figure turned towards Jude.

A faint light appeared inside the circular hole.

And a voice came from somewhere deep within it.

"Keeper."

The word was so familiar that Jude felt it before he understood it.

The child looked at him.

"Don’t let it take the bird."

Jude moved.

But the second Scarlet reached the wooden bird first.

She snatched it from the staircase and held it against her chest.

The figure’s head turned towards her.

"Mother."

The second Scarlet froze.

The first Scarlet whispered, "No."

The figure raised its other hand.

A silver thread shot from its palm and wrapped around the second Scarlet’s wrist.

She cried out.

The wooden bird began to shake.

Jude rushed towards her, but the first Scarlet caught him.

"Don’t touch the thread!"

"Let go!"

"It will remember you!"

The thread tightened.

The second Scarlet fell to her knees.

The little boy reached for her.

"Mother!"

The figure spoke again.

"Return what was taken."

The second Scarlet shook her head.

"I didn’t take it."

"Return what was taken."