Chapter 45 — The Hollow Stair

The stair went down like a spiral ribcage. Each step pulsed gently, as if Yusuf were walking veins instead of stone. Walls breathed, bark fused to bone, glowing strands curling through in patterns too intricate to read.

There was no noise from the child's little feet. Yusuf's boots fell gently, the noise being consumed almost at once by the Tree.

This is where the roots end," the child whispered. "The marrow. The memory that contains the rest."

Yusuf trailed his hand along the wall as he descended. The filaments of light hummed with his touch—snatches of voice, laughter, even screams. Worlds distilled to threads. It coiled his stomach. If one of these threads were severed, what would unravel?

The stairs descended into a heart-shaped room. Enormous, empty, and full of light. At its center floated an orb, no bigger than Yusuf's chest, but unforgettably heavy with presence. Its surface churned like melted glass, dotted with shadows and figures that shifted too fast to track.

He stepped forward. The Codex trembled in his palms, pages lashing in frustration. The child didn't move, only gazing.

As Yusuf approached, the globe glowed—then steadied into a single picture.

A study. Untidy, dusty, with books lined along one shelf in a tottering pillar. A figure sitting at the desk, bent head over parchment. Unclear features, but the posture… the tilt of his shoulders… Yusuf stifled a gasp.

"Father," he whispered.

The image sharpened. The man’s face was still obscured, as if the memory itself resisted Yusuf’s recognition. But his voice carried through the chamber, calm and sharp as always.

“You cannot preserve everything, Yusuf. To hold the dead is to strangle the living.”

Yusuf’s knees nearly gave. He stepped closer, palm almost brushing the orb. “You’re here… somewhere inside this.”

The Codex creaked open on its own, ink dripping upwards in spindly handwriting. The orb shook, dark veins rippling over its face. The room shivered in warning.

The child's words were low but razor-edged. "Be careful. The marrow doesn't want to be touched. It is the memory of memory itself. If you disturb it…"

"Then I'll find him faster," Yusuf said, trembling with desperation.

He forced his hand into the orb.

The world warped.

A thousand voices flooded into his mind, waves of names he'd never heard crashing over him. His chest convulsed. His vision broke into shards—cities burning, oceans devouring empires, children screaming for mothers who never came back.

In the storm, a single voice blazed above the others.

".Yusuf."

It was low, but real. His father's voice, coming across the flood.

And then the room slammed shut behind him. The orb darkened. The voice fell silent.

Yusuf dropped to his knees, gasping. His head rang with silence so loud it hurt.

The child finally came forward, kneeling beside him. Its hollow face tilted. "Now you know he lives. Somewhere deeper than you've gone. But the Tree will not give him up easily."

Yusuf clenched his fists until the Codex dug into his palms. His frame shook, but in his eyes, there was determination.

"Then I'll tear the Tree apart if I have to."

The room creaked on the words, roots straining as if they'd listened.

And in the Tree's marrow, something awakened.