Chapter 47 — The Memory Price

The radiance of the Codex illuminated the space, tearing shadows from their hold. The Harvester recoiled, a thousand faces howling in agony. But the radiance was brief—dying already, it wailed for an oblation.

On the empty page, three fragments smoldered like hot coals, each one offering itself to be burned:

The soothing cadence of his mother's voice the last time she'd spoken his name.

Rae's smile, before the Memory Eater consumed it.

The pull of the faceless boy on his arm in the first nothingness.

Yusuf's chest tightened. Each one of them actually performed their part. Each one of them took hold of him.

The boy's voice was trembling. "Do not tarry. If you tarry, it will consume you whole."

The Harvester bellowed, striking, its root-arm descending. Yusuf jumped, rolled, was upright with the Codex hugged to his chest. His lungs burned. He had seconds.

"Darn it…"

His hands shook over the options hammering. "Why does it have to be one of them?"

The faceless child tilted its head, unreadable. "Because to remember is power. And power always comes with a cost."

The Harvester struck again, and Yusuf shouted—not in fear, but anger. He pounded his hand on the page.

Rae's face engulfed in fire.

The Codex burned. His throat ripped open in a scream as the memory dissolved—not her face, but the feel of her hand over his palm, driving a shard home, the sound of "they already have me," the memory of the last time she had smiled.

When the fire went out, his hand was empty. The shard glowed weakly, but was odd—like something in a story he'd never really experienced.

"Rae…," he breathed, and his hand was empty.

The Harvester retreated—too late.

The Codex burst in his hand, a shining sword cutting across the sentinel's chest. Roots burst, faces disintegrating into ash. The Harvester wailed as its form melted, breaking apart into smoke that stumbled backward into the Tree walls.

The central orb burst, the cracks unraveling. Yusuf could finally discern what was within:

His father, haggard and older, slumped against a desk in an impossible archive. Lips moving soundlessly, repeating names into the void.

Yusuf staggered toward the vision, tears burning his eyes. “Father… I’m close. I’ll find you.”

But before he could touch the light, the orb sealed shut, threads knotting across its cracks.

The chamber fell silent.

The boy without a face crawled closer, his head cocked to the side as if studying him. "You burned her. What. an interesting choice."

"Don't—" Yusuf's voice broke. He covered the upper part of his chest, which ached with the hollowness inside. "Don't act as if it did not matter to you."

The child said nothing. The child merely stared into the shut sphere and its empty face. "I am close to my children, and it will consume all the more. Will you continue?"

Yusuf's throat was tight, fists white-knuckled on the Codex. His vision blurred in exhaustion, grief, and rage.

"Yes," he whispered. "Though I lose everything."

The room trembled once more, the strings drawing tighter as if they were being drawn deeper into the Tree.

And the earth beneath their feet dissolved.

They fell—deeper than before, down into the hidden roots beneath.