Chapter 23 — Names on the Edge

The Codex trembled in Yusuf's grasp, its pages emitting feral haste. The command was burned onto the parchment:

Anchor the Name.

What ones?

His own burned angrily along the vines in front of him, consuming sheet after sheet—letters falling as ash, with only silence remaining. Behind him, Rae's was weak, wispy, as if she was half gone already.

The Harvester's quills scraped against, as rhythmical as a pulse. Each stroke took a different thread of recall into its recessed mask.

Yusuf's chest closed in. What would he have if he no longer had a name? An anchorless vagrant, devoured by that very oblivion he fought? And yet… if he found anchor, there would no longer be a Rae, and Elarra's last archivist would be a featureless grave.

The faceless child pulled at his sleeve softly, its voice so mild. "Two ways, you cannot have. The Codex will not allow it."

Why?" Yusuf's voice was rough, raw. "Why make a zero sum? Why would I have to decide?

The child raised its head, remaining completely motionless.

In his mind, a different voice appeared—his father's, remote and clinical:

Historia no emb>IDa todo, Yusuf. Elige. Eso es la crueldad… y la misericordia.

He knotted his fists. No. That was precisely the exact same ideology that had estranged them. His father preferred facts to feelings, monuments to men. But was Yusuf being any different today?

The vines hissed as more names bled away. Yusuf staggered to the Codex, staring at the empty lines. Only one could be written. Only one could endure.

Rae's soft voice reached him—although she was not speaking. It was the recall of their stroll through Elarra, when she had said, "Perhaps for a bit of time."

Tears filled his eyes. The Harvester's mask came close, ink dripping as a venom. Its thousand-voiced whisper scraped against his ears:

"Choose. Or lose both."

The Codex erupted again, light pen in Yusuf's grasp. The vines convulsed, as if about to crash.

His hand hovered over the page.

Single name.

Single option.