The Library · The Kept
The Bleached City
A future that forgot how to keep its dead at all, after a Great Forgetting. Grey, ritual, no machines that think. Neither dystopia nor utopia.
First seen in The Names I Woke With Book One of The Borrowed Dead
Also in The Library
The Far Side
Bare rock and a long slope going up into a high, cold grey. No road, no lights, no birds, and a wind that never once gusts. The crossing sets Bram and Noor down here, short of where they were aiming.
The Fold in the Rock
A cut in the hill no deeper than a coal shed, where they camp with no fire, one tin cup set under a slow drip, and frost picking out every needle of the scrub. Every day spent sitting still here costs a name.
The Library
Four hundred years past Bram's own time, at the top of the road, a forgetting world keeps its dead on shelves: sorted and safe and not one of them loved.
The Ritual Ground
Salt-white open ground at the water's edge, where the year's dead are named and the nameless washed and spoken for: the body-rhyme of the drowning.
The Climb
Each rung of the road forward costs a carried name and a piece of the climber, and neither comes back.