Chapter 26:
Chapter 22 – The Harvester
The Archivist of Lost Eras
The whispers quieted to silence.
Yusuf's breath turned rough in his ears while his own name's brilliance burst over the vines. With each burst, something of memory came loose—his granny's face, Cairo night street sounds, tiny scratch of pen when first categorizing a book.
Something was taking them.
The faceless child stood stiff, tilted head. "It's here."
Yusuf thrust his eyes upwards. Between twisted vines, a form emerged. It was human-like at first—wrapped with green, hidden face. But instead of hands, it had roots, circling quills that bled with each changing movement.
It moved with slow deliberation, inscribing across the vines as it moved. Wherever it touched with its quills, a name shone, then darkened, then disappeared.
The Harvester," breathed the child.
The man stood before them. No face—just a broken mask, splintered down its center. Its voice was dry parchment, laid over upon thousands of other ones:
"All names must fade. All must go back to the soil."
Yusuf clutched at Codex. "Not mine.”
The Harvester tilted its head. Its quills rustled in mid-air, and Yusuf's next memory tore loose—a laugh shared with a stranger while on a guided tour of museums. He stumbled, gritting his teeth.The Codex flared, pages whipping open. Across them, a phrase burned into being:
Anchor the name.
He knew what it was. If he could inscribe Rae's vanishing name—or his own—into Codex, perhaps it would be spared from deletion by Harvester.
But his hands trembled. His father's voice still rang in the vines, strong, authoritative: "Yusuf. Get it right. Facts over feelings The Harvester moved closer. Names that danced around me flashed like extinguished stars. The faceless child took his sleeve in his grasp. Choose," it said. "You can save one name. The other names will be lost.".
Yusuf stiffened. Rae's weak name shone behind him, beating softly. His own name burned in front of him, just about to go out.
The Codex remained in his hands, waiting.
And upraised its quills did the Harvester.
Yusuf's breath turned rough in his ears while his own name's brilliance burst over the vines. With each burst, something of memory came loose—his granny's face, Cairo night street sounds, tiny scratch of pen when first categorizing a book.
Something was taking them.
The faceless child stood stiff, tilted head. "It's here."
Yusuf thrust his eyes upwards. Between twisted vines, a form emerged. It was human-like at first—wrapped with green, hidden face. But instead of hands, it had roots, circling quills that bled with each changing movement.
It moved with slow deliberation, inscribing across the vines as it moved. Wherever it touched with its quills, a name shone, then darkened, then disappeared.
The Harvester," breathed the child.
The man stood before them. No face—just a broken mask, splintered down its center. Its voice was dry parchment, laid over upon thousands of other ones:
"All names must fade. All must go back to the soil."
Yusuf clutched at Codex. "Not mine.”
The Harvester tilted its head. Its quills rustled in mid-air, and Yusuf's next memory tore loose—a laugh shared with a stranger while on a guided tour of museums. He stumbled, gritting his teeth.The Codex flared, pages whipping open. Across them, a phrase burned into being:
Anchor the name.
He knew what it was. If he could inscribe Rae's vanishing name—or his own—into Codex, perhaps it would be spared from deletion by Harvester.
But his hands trembled. His father's voice still rang in the vines, strong, authoritative: "Yusuf. Get it right. Facts over feelings The Harvester moved closer. Names that danced around me flashed like extinguished stars. The faceless child took his sleeve in his grasp. Choose," it said. "You can save one name. The other names will be lost.".
Yusuf stiffened. Rae's weak name shone behind him, beating softly. His own name burned in front of him, just about to go out.
The Codex remained in his hands, waiting.
And upraised its quills did the Harvester.
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