The Door My Father Opened
The photo trembled in Cuco's hands.
His father, standing at the edge of the forest. Smiling faintly. The mark faint but clear on his palm.
Cuco stared, heart pounding.
"I don't understand," he whispered. "He never talked about this. He never—"
Isabela cut him off gently. "Because he couldn't. The Circle erased his name from the records after he crossed through. He was one of the first Dreamers in this generation."
The silver-eyed man nodded solemnly. "Your father chose to carry the burden alone. He thought he could seal it from the inside."
Cuco's throat tightened. "Then why didn't he come back?"
"Because," Isabela said, "whatever he tried to stop... woke up first."
Cuco stared at the photo again.
Behind his father, in the trees, barely visible in the photo's shadows—
A shape.
Wrong.
Too tall. Too still.
He touched the photo.
His mark flared.
And in an instant—Cuco was elsewhere.
A memory. But not his.
The air was thick. Humid. The smell of pine and smoke filled his lungs.
He stood in the forest—but ten years earlier.
And there, ahead of him— His father.
Running. Breathing hard. Glancing over his shoulder.
"Not yet," the man muttered. "Not until he's ready…"
He held something in his hands.
A book. Bound in bark. Its cover pulsing faintly.
Behind him, shadows chased.
Whispers floated through the air.
> "You're late, Arturo…"
"You promised to keep it closed…"
"Now we'll open you."
Cuco tried to move. Tried to shout.
But the memory played without him.
His father reached a clearing and dropped to one knee, digging fast, burying the book in the roots of an ancient tree.
Then he stood.
Face calm. Determined.
He turned to the dark.
And opened his arms.
As the forest swallowed him.
---
Cuco gasped—jerking back into his own body.
Sweat poured down his face.
He was back in the Circle. On his knees. Isabela at his side.
"You saw it," she whispered.
Cuco looked at her, his voice hollow.
"He buried something. A book. Before he gave himself up."
The silver-eyed man leaned forward.
"Then you must find it. Whatever your father sealed—it's calling you now."
Cuco stood.
He didn't feel afraid anymore.He felt chosen.But not by the Circle.
Not by the light.By whatever his father left behind.