Chapter 1270

That evening, the treehouse felt tighter. Closer. The kind of closeness that didn't comfort. Everyone was tense. Meals were small. Conversations were clipped.

Grace began humming again - soft, barely there. But this time it was different. Jude couldn't explain it. It wasn't eerie. It was familiar. Like a song he had heard before but forgotten.

Stella leaned into her. "That's the same song Rose used to hum."

Grace stopped.

"No," she said. "I don't remember that."

"You are," Stella insisted. "Exactly the same."

Grace frowned. "I don't remember learning it."

Everyone fell silent.

Then Jude said, "Sing it again."

Grace hesitated, then sang.

It was beautiful. Haunting.

And when she stopped, no one moved.

Because outside the treehouse, echoing back through the trees -

The same melody answered.

Soft.

Slow.

As if sung by a hundred mouths.

Zoey stood, knife already in her hand.