THE SACRIFICE
The grandmother's bark-like fingers dug into Julian's shoulders as she yanked him away from Sabrina. Her hollow face split vertically with a sound like splintering wood, revealing a black void where her throat should be.
"You would take her place?" The words vibrated through Julian's bones. "A Thorne offering himself to Whitfield roots? Oh, how the trees will feast on that irony."
Julian didn't flinch. "Just do it."
Across the cavern, Sabrina screamed through her stitched lips, the sound muffled but no less desperate. The bone cage around her heart pulsed crimson as the roots tightened in protest.
The grandmother's claw traced Julian's jugular. "First, you should know what you're inheriting."
Her other hand plunged into his chest.
THE MEMORY
Julian's back arched as the vision consumed him:
A younger Silas Whitfield standing in this very cavern, facing a man with Julian's eyes—his grandfather, Elias Thorne. Between them, a writhing mass of willow roots shaped like a woman.
"You promised me a way out," Elias snarled.
Silas smiled. "And you'll get it. One Thorne heir takes the guardian's place, and your bloodline goes free. But the roots require... persuasion."
He threw a child forward—a boy of seven with Julian's stubborn chin. Elias' son. Julian's father.
The roots struck like vipers.
When they receded, the boy stood blank-eyed, his chest hollow.*
"Perfect," Silas crooned. "He'll make a fine guardian... in fifty years."
Julian vomited black water as the memory released him. The grandmother's laughter echoed like falling timber.
"Your father was supposed to be here. Weak-hearted fool fled town the night before his binding. But you?" Her claws tightened. "You walked right in."
SABRINA'S BETRAYAL
Sabrina moved.
With a sound like ripping silk, she tore the vines from her lips. "Liar!" Bloody sap dripped down her chin as she lunged—not at the grandmother, but at Julian.
Her hands clamped his face. "They never told you, did they? Why your father really left?"
A second memory seared into Julian:
His father sobbing at the kitchen table, a pistol trembling in his hand. A twelve-year-old Julian watching from the hallway.
"I can't go back, Ellie," his father whispered to Julian's mother. "The trees are calling. They want the boy next."
The gun clicked—
—then lowered.
"We run tonight."_*
Julian gasped. The roots beneath them shivered in recognition.
Sabrina pressed her forehead to his, her voice breaking. "Your grandfather sold your father to save himself. And now you're here to complete the transaction."
The grandmother hissed. "Enough!"
Willow roots erupted from the water, wrapping around Julian's limbs.
THE UNMAKING
Sabrina kissed him.
Not gently. This was a claiming, teeth and desperation and shared breath. When she pulled back, her lips were stained with his blood.
"I refuse your sacrifice," she whispered.
Then she shoved him away—
—and plunged her hand into her own chest.
The sound was unholy. Splintering bone. Tearing flesh. Sabrina's scream shook the cavern as she ripped the bone cage free from her ribs. Black sap gushed down her dress, but her eyes burned brighter than ever.
The grandmother screeched, her bark-face cracking. "You dare—"*
Sabrina crushed the cage in her fist. "I dare. We dare."
She grabbed Julian's hand and slammed their joined palms into the water.
The cavern exploded in violet light.