Chapter 24 — Defiance

The mouths of the Harvester hissed in unison, hum vibration coursing through the room like a swarm of wasps. Its thorns crept close, stench clung heavy over air like rotting foliage. The Codex vibrated in Yusuf's hand, the page gently, persistently glowing.

"Write," it breathed, ink pool coalescing on the parchment like blood. "One name. Pick."

Rae's voice shook. "Yusuf… don't. Whatever it's compelling you—

But Yusuf's hands were in motion already, shaking with rage and doubt. He glanced at Rae, then at the vacant child clinging to his sleeve in silent entreaty.

The Codex demanded compliance. But Yusuf had spent a lifetime arguing with that history could be compressed into what some were ready to leave intact. If he complied now, he was not an archivist—he was a chronicler of loss.

No, his voice full but firm, hoarse. "You don't have a choice. I do."

The Harvester screamed, vines slashing like the ocean. Yusuf dropped the quill to the table and wrote the names in one stroke on the same bloody line.

The Codex fought back. The parchment twisted in his hands, letters twisting into horrific symbols. Ink burst in, ripping the page in two like ripped flesh. Glass-smashing convulsions shook the room as the Codex convulsed, a black crack running down its spine.

The Harvester struggled. Its shape dissolved, the vines curling back into the ground, its numerous mouths wide open in silent terror. Rae stumbled ahead, shielding Yusuf as the creature's body burst apart in a whirlwind of petals and ash.

The Codex rested, untouched. But as Yusuf gazed at the torn page, his breath froze—under the torn ink was something more. A Shard. A shard of raw, glowing memory, irregular and jagged, throbbed with its own life.

"You shattered it," Rae breathed, gazing at the tear which ran across the binding of the Codex. "You desecrated the law."

The faceless child reclined on its head, voice on the cusp of amazement. "No one has ever scribed two names. The Codex… recalls differently now."

Yusuf's arm stretched out to take the glinting sliver. Its light burned on his hand, as if ice colder than cold. He waited for sounds, for a moment—hundreds and thousands of names—shouting in rebellion, as if a dam had burst open and a flood started.

The Harvester was absent. But a deeper disturbance was set off. The Codex law was broken.

And Yusuf knew, with that nauseating awareness that had turned him icy, that the worlds of memory would not let him off.