They returned to the Hoshino stop.
Asahi laid a single page of the manuscript on the earth. He placed it at the foot of the first stone pillar, right where the row of Culling Monoliths began.
Nothing happened.
Koyoi sank to his knees and pressed his palm against the manuscript. The pouch at his side pulsed.
Warmth seeped from his palm, through the paper, and into the ground. The earth shimmered. It was a faint light—weak, as if a single firefly were trapped beneath the soil. In response to the names written on the manuscript, information began to surface from the sedimentary layers deep below.
"It’s reacting."
Kuon peered through the ground with his prosthetic eye.
"The residual data in the strata is resonating with the names in the manuscript. Names that were supposed to have been erased... they are remembering their own existence through these pages."
The light died out almost immediately. It was too weak to sustain itself. But it had definitely glowed.
Koyoi took another page and placed it at the base of the next pillar. He touched it, sending the pouch’s warmth into the earth. It glowed again, a little brighter than before.
A third.
A fourth.
By the fifth page, the light from the ground began to multiply. Each was faint on its own, but together they bolstered one another. It was as if the names in the manuscript were reaching out to hold hands beneath the earth.
Asahi took the remaining pages and laid them out one by one along the row of monuments. His movements were gruff but precise. He aligned each page with the base of a pillar and set a small pebble on the corner so the wind wouldn't take them.
"Line them all up," Asahi said, his voice low. "I want to see what happens when we have the whole set."
Thirty-seven pages of the manuscript now lined the row of stones.
Koyoi walked the length of the line, touching each one in turn. The pouch pulsed in a steady, rapid rhythm.
Warmth flowed through the transcripts into the earth, reaching the very bottom of the sedimentary layers. A line of light took shape. Thirty-seven flickers swayed beneath the surface at the base of the monuments. The lights drew threads toward one another, weaving a thin net of radiance.
"They haven't returned yet," Kuon said, staring at the glow. "The data is merely reacting. For a full restoration, we need more power. We would have to connect directly to the original volumes in the Scripture House—"
Koyoi looked down at the line of light. Thirty-seven names, shining from the depths. Gods who were supposed to be gone were trying to remember who they were.
The pouch pointed North. Not down, but North. Toward the Scripture House.
“I’m going back,” Koyoi said, his gaze steady.
"The place collapsed just a moment ago," Asahi muttered.
"Not all of it. The center is still there. That Well... it remains."
Koyoi’s voice was quiet but unyielding. The light in the ground flared for a moment as if in answer.
They gathered the pages and headed back down the stone steps. The glow didn't fade for a long time. Thirty-seven names continued to pulse underground, and that faint thrum traveled through the soles of their feet, vibrating all the way up to their heels.