Chapter 37 — Ash Between Fingers

The ash clung to his skin.

Yusuf rubbed his palms together, trying to wash the gray dust off, but it seeped further into his cuts, befouling him with the ruin of the orchard. Movement made him feel the stings in his palms. Gazing upon the white scars of glass brought him back to the sphere that had broken in his hands.

The Codex rested on the floor in front of him, still quiet. No hum, no pull. The pages glowed softly as if exhausted. On the latest entry, the words remained seared into the parchment:

"Your father carried this piece before you."

He couldn't look at it for more than a few seconds.

The faceless child slumped hunched opposite him, folding their knees into their chest. They had not said a word since the orchard collapsed—only gazed at him, tilted head, their unreadable face a mirror of peace.

Yusuf eventually broke the silence.

"Was that. real? The study? The names?"

The child did not move at first. Then, as soft as smoke:

"Fragments don't lie. They bend, they twist. but they do not lie.".

Yusuf's throat closed up. He clapped his hand to his face. "Then he was here. My father was here."

There was a pause. Then the child whispered reluctantly:

"He went ahead of you. In these very worlds. He left trails behind… the shards."

Yusuf lowered his hand. His voice was more imperative now. "Then where is he? If he has left a trail, there must be an end."

The child's head rotated slightly, as if he'd heard something in the distance. "Endings are not where you'd guess. Sometimes they're hidden within the beginning."

"Enough of riddles!" Yusuf snapped, and immediately wished he'd not said it. The child winced, shoulders folding inward.

The silence after that hurt.

Yusuf breathed deeply, dropping to his knees so they were level. His voice softened. "I'm sorry. I just… I have to know if he's alive. If he's—" He lost his voice. "If he even remembers me."

The child tilted their head. "You are afraid of the same thing he was."

Yusuf opened his eyes. "What do you mean?"

The boy stood hesitantly, pointing to the Codex. Its newest thread had begun to emanate a soft glow, ink unwinding across the page like veins. A new world, a new pull.

"He feared to be forgotten. That fear led him here. And it is leading you, as well."

The words hit him harder than he expected. He wanted to object. Deny it. But he couldn't.

Ash danced at his feet, whipped by a wind that previously hadn't existed. The silence in the orchard was stifling now, as if ruins themselves knew when to let go.

Yusuf picked up the Codex in his arms, holding it against his chest. The fragile shine of the next thread shone steadily, waiting to be followed.

But for the first time, Yusuf hesitated to step. His hands trembled—not from the cuts, not from the cold, but because he was afraid that following the strands of the Codex would be going deeper into the shadow of his father.

The faceless child moved closer, voice as flat as ever:

"Whether you follow for you or for him… the thread won't wait."

The air around them began to shift, the new thread pulling at the seams of reality.

Yusuf opened his eyes, ash still clinging to his fingers, and took a step forward.