Thirty li east of Peace River Town, an old road lay swallowed by weeds. At its end stood a ring of white walls, half collapsed, enclosing several rows of old tiled houses. An Old Locust Tree grew in the courtyard—the same kind as the one in Echoing City—with red cloth strips covering its branches, each bearing a name. When the wind blew, the strips fluttered like a crowd of children all calling, "Here!"
This was the Spirit Nurturing Institute. During those three years of black-water erosion, the children here had lost every member of their families. After Soundless Heaven's tide receded, Wujiu took in all thirty-seven children, cooked porridge himself, taught them frequencies, and carved each a wooden tag to wear on their chest. Their names were written on the tags, because he was "afraid they might wake up one day and no longer remember what they were called."
This was the first place Namelessness of Name-Taking targeted.
Not because it was weak, but because the names here were the easiest to "take"-there were no household registrations, no family records, and even their names had been newly chosen by Wujiu. Such names lay closest to the surface in the hierarchy of "existence," making them the easiest to erase.
Serina arrived just as darkness fell.
She, Mingchen, and Soundless had traveled overnight from Echoing City. Wujiu waited for them at the gate, his face paler than she had ever seen it.
"It started this afternoon." Wujiu kept his voice low, as though afraid someone might hear. "First, the words on the wooden tags disappeared. Then the children's memories-several asked me, 'What's my name?' And then-"
He stepped aside to clear the entrance.
The sight in the courtyard made the golden light on Serina's left shoulder abruptly contract.
Thirty-seven children sat beneath