Chapter 36 — The Orchard Cracks

The orchard cried out.

Branches cracked like snapping bones. Fruit exploded in mid-air, releasing shards that bled with light. Guardians ripped at each other, their ragged limbs bludgeoning until they broke. Every fall released a deluge of voices, and the air drowned in a maelstrom of shattered names.

Yusuf gripped the sphere harder. It pounded like a second heartbeat in his hands, each stroke thudding against his chest. The Codex shuddered against his side, its ink flowing across the open page in crazed, unreadable script.

"Yusuf!" the boy tugged at his arm, trying to pull him away from the collapsing path. "It's opening—if you don't let it go, it'll suck you in!"

But he couldn't.

The sphere burst.

A crack had traversed its face, and light burst forth like water splintering glass. Yusuf's breath caught as the real world retreated from him.

—He was not in the orchard.

He was in a room.

A study.

His father's study.

The air was rich with acrid coffee smell. Amber light danced through dust motes. A notebook lay open on the desk—the same one on which he had torn a page, years before.

And his father's voice rang out, low and sharp:

"You think that memory will suffice, Yusuf. But loveless memory is just a list of names."

Yusuf staggered back. "No… this is impossible."

The figure at the table did not raise its head. Its hand trembled as it wrote name after name on the page. Rae. Unseen. Forgotten. A hundred more.

And Yusuf's name, written over and over until the ink tore through the page.

The world broke again in his hands. Glass shards dropped like tears, cutting into his palms.

The Codex raged inside him—a not physical but bone-level pain. Leave.

The voice of the faceless boy cut through the haze, far away and indistinct:

"Yusuf! Don't drown in it. It's not yours to hold on to."

The study collapsed.

He was back in the orchard—knees folding as the ground opened beneath him. The fruit globe disintegrated completely, bursting into strands that pierced through the Codex. The guardians shrieked once more before their bodies disintegrated into dust and emptiness.

And then—nothing.

The orchard no longer existed.

Nothing but ash and naked branches remained behind.

Yusuf stood shaking, bloody glass cuts on his hands. The Codex lay open at his feet, and across its page a single phrase seared itself in black ink:

"Your father bore this shard before you."

Yusuf's throat tightened. His pulse boomed in his ears.

The child moved closer, their faceless gaze unreadable.

"You see it now, don't you? These pieces aren't random. They're shards of him. Wherever you go, you're not just following lost worlds. you're following his trajectory."

Yusuf gazed at the bloodied hands, at the dying spark of the orchard, and felt its weight settling in heavier than ever.

The next thread of the Codex glowed softly, in anticipation.

And for the first time, Yusuf was not sure if he would be following.