Chapter 6 – The Memory That Bled

Yusuf descended hard.
The world this time did not welcome him.
It expelled him.
The ground beneath him buckled—ashy black sand, greasy with ash, covered in frost. He slowly stood up, brushing soot off his coat, eyes roving the barren plain in every direction.
The Codex rode at his side, heavy with more than usual. Its cover was matte. Blue light strands struggled weakly along its spine, as if something breathed through fever.
He turned—and stopped.
In the distance, a row of shattered monuments. Towers leaning at awkward angles. Faces carved into the rock screamed silently, their mouths agape in endless grieving.
No people.
No light.
Only wind—carrying voices that weren't any he knew.
He moved.
Every step was unnatural. Too heavy, as if he were walking through memory itself, uncooperative and heavy.
And then he heard it: a drum like a heartbeat muffled under stone.
The Codex throbbed gently.
A paper strand curled off its pages—torn, frayed at the edges, throbbing a sickly violet.Yusuf disliked it.
It pulled him toward the tallest broken statue, the one that had no face. The same sweep of stone as—
"The boy," Yusuf whispered.
The faceless boy was already there, hood up. Head bent.
"This place is wrong," Yusuf said. "It feels. angry."
The child would not look up. "Some memories aren't broken. They're infected."
"Can I fix it?"
"You can try it."
"Will it cost me another expense?"
The child looked at him then, with no eyes.
"Anything has a price."
Yusuf exhaled and sat on a cracked column, dusting dust from his hands.
"Before I go any further, I have to ask you. Who are you? Why are you following me?"
The faceless child tilted his head to one side. Not evasive today. Just… drained.
"I was the first."
"The first what?"
"The first who walked the threads. and stayed too long."
The wind ceased.
"I wanted to remember everything. Every world. Every soul. Every thread."
"And?"
"There was no more space left in me. So I forgot my name. My voice. My face."
Yusuf's breath stopped.
"You're what happens when a person forgets themselves entirely?"
The child nodded. "I was created a vessel for memory. Not a human being."
He turned around and pointed to the Codex.
"That is not a book. It is a living artifact. It weaves threads—connections between people, places, and time. It lets you step into memories and feel their burden."
"And the shards?"
"Pieces of suffering. The exact moments where history cracked."
"And the threads take me to them?"
"Yes. But whenever you correct one, the Codex takes away something. You remember what the world forgot. But the world. forgets something of you."
"How much have I lost?"
The child did not answer.
The wind increased. A mournful moan issued from the forest of monuments.
The Codex trembled, pages opening.
One page, freshly inscribed:"Eliza – 2009 – Red scarf. Café window. First kiss."
Yusuf looked.
He did not know who she was.
He couldn't remember her.
He dropped the Codex.
"No," he panted. "No, I remember it all. I have to. That's the point of it all."
The kid drew closer. "You traded that memory for this world. For the chance to make it whole again."
"I didn't agree to it."
"You agreed the second you touched the altar. And you agreed again. And again. And again."Yusuf dropped to his knees.
His hands trembled as he reached out for the Codex.
It was warm.
Too warm.
The violet thread pulsed once.
A half-corporeal figure burst out of the stone in front of them—shifting, trembling. Its shape writhed as if mist on a pond. It lashed out at Yusuf with light and shadow claws.
He dodged—barely—rolled behind a fallen pillar.
"What in the world—"
"A rejection," said the child calmly. "Memory does not want to be remembered. It fights.""So they aren't loops. They can fight back at us?".
The monster let out a screaming wail—more sound than voice—and came at him once again.Yusuf held up the Codex, and in desperation, spun another circle in the air using one of the threads. It blazed—faint, unfinished—but the beast slowed, stumbled.
"Do it again!" the child shouted.
Yusuf drew a second circle, connecting two images: the face of the statue and a name he couldn't remember writing.
The creature stopped.
Then broke apart.
Quiet.
The air cleared.
Yusuf fell to his knees again, gasping.
"This… this isn't possible," he panted. "I can't keep doing this if I'm losing my self."
The child sat beside him on the stone.
"Then stop."
Yusuf snarled at him, rage and sorrow in his eyes.
"You know I can't."
The child said nothing.
Mere gently closed the Codex with one white hand.
Far above, somewhere beyond memory, another thread trembled.
It was getting harder.
But Yusuf stood still.