"Not all who are silent forget. Some remember too much."
The room seemed to close like a box sealed by time. The children —translucent, somber, grieving— formed a circle around Yuki and Rei. They weren't hostile. Just… present. Their eyes, hollow as bottomless wells, held centuries of unheard crying.
One by one, they began to speak.
—"My name was Margo. I had a music box. They took it because I cried."
—"I was Elías. You promised you'd come back, Rei. You never did."
—"I'm Damián. My bed smelled like mold. I dreamed of the ocean but never saw it."
—"Luz... that's what they called me. But no one ever lit a light for me."
Each voice was like a soft blade across the soul. Yuki dropped to his knees, feeling the weight of screams the house had swallowed for years. The names began to float in the air, etched in mist across the walls.
Rei took a step forward.
—"I didn't forget you. They broke me... but I never forgot."
—"It wasn't enough," Margo said. "They condemned us to silence. And so did you."
Yuki stood. Something inside him burned.
—"Then let me remember you. Give me your memories. Not to suffer them—
but to give your names back. So you won't be lost."
The children looked at him.
One by one, they placed their hands over his chest. The room filled with images: smothered laughter, crayon drawings, a white cold room, the sound of distant footsteps, and a lullaby sung by a voice that no longer exists.
Rei cried in silence.
Ershem appeared then. Not as a shadow, but as a shattered reflection in glass.
—"The seals are weakening. If you choose to go on, there will be no turning back."
Yuki didn't hesitate.
—"It's too late to turn back."
The children, for the first time, smiled.