Chapter 12 — The Price of Crossing

The boat pitched hard, tilting so far Yusuf almost went over. Cold water poured over his boots as the drowned dragged themselves up the sides, whispering like broken reeds in the wind.

“Names… memories… anchors…”

The shard burned in his fist, thumping in time with his pulse. For a breath he saw Rae’s face reflected in it—steady, unchanging, looking at him the way she had before everything collapsed. Her gift. Her last gift. He wouldn’t let it go.

“No.” His voice ripped out of him. “Not this.”

He jammed the shard deep into his pocket and threw his other hand onto the Codex. His throat ached with the words. “If you want something—” his voice cracked— “take it from me. Not from her.”

The drowned screamed. A sound like glass splintering under water, sharp and endless. Then they struck. Fingers clamped onto his chest, his temples, his heart.

And something tore free.

The scent of the museum’s archives—the dry dust, the leather bindings—gone.
The first friend he made at school—gone.
The cool touch of rain on his face when he was a boy—gone.

Yusuf screamed, clawing at his own head as the memories peeled away, each one ripped from him like flesh. The drowned devoured them greedily, swallowing pieces of him into their endless dark.

The child shrieked. The Codex slammed shut in its hands, bursting with light that cut across the water. The drowned recoiled, writhing back beneath the surface. The ferryman drove his pole deep, shoving the boat free from their grip.

Silence returned, broken only by Yusuf’s ragged breathing. The drowned floated under the black surface, their whispers fading. But one figure lingered at the edge of the fog. His father’s distorted form, half-shadow, half-ruin, its single eye fixed on him.

“You’ll forget me too, one day,” it said. “And when you do… I’ll be free.”

It slipped back beneath the water without a ripple.

Yusuf collapsed against the boat’s side, chest heaving. His skull felt lighter—but hollow. He reached for the memory of his boyhood friend’s grin, and found only blank space where it should have been.

The child knelt beside him, Codex clutched tight. Its voice was a whisper. “You didn’t give them the shard.”

“No.” His throat was raw. “I gave them something else instead.”

The ferryman’s empty eyes stayed locked on him. “Every crossing takes its toll. Whether you chose well… or poorly… only time will tell.”

Yusuf stared into the black river rushing past, his fists trembling. In his pocket, Rae’s shard still pulsed faintly—the last heartbeat of Elarra. But its light couldn’t hide the hollow ache of what he’d lost.

And for the first time, Yusuf wondered how much of himself would remain when this was done.

The boat slid on into the mist, carrying them toward whatever lay beyond the River of Forgotten Names.