CHAPTER 5: THE WILLOW'S BRIDE

Sabrina woke inside the grandmother's embrace.

Not the corpse they'd burned—the original. The ancient willow's hollow heart cradled her like a lover, its inner walls pulsing with slow, viscous breaths. Every exhale coated Sabrina in warm sap, seeping into her pores, filling her mouth with the taste of:

Julian's blood when she'd first bitten through his lipThe blackberries they'd crushed between their bodies that first summerThe iron tang of her own menses, two weeks late

Ah.

The realization should have terrified her. Instead, Sabrina pressed a hand to her abdomen, where the thickest vine had taken root inside her. The grove's whispers crescendoed:

"See? We made you better. We made you whole."

Her spine arched as the vine twisted deeper, its flowering tip brushing against something newly formed. The pleasure-pain made her gasp—a sound that echoed through the willow's chambers, shaking loose memory-laden pollen.

Suddenly, she was remembering things that never happened:

Herself as a child, planting a sapling over a tiny graveJulian's father weeping as vines swallowed his screamsA night where she'd straddled not Julian, but the grandmother, her thighs slick with sap instead of sweat

"No!" Sabrina clawed at the visions, but the willow only laughed, its voice the creak of bending branches.

"You always fight the sweetest truths, little guardian."

A new vine speared between her teeth, pumping her full of drugging nectar. Her struggles weakened as the pollen showed her another memory—truer, sharper:

The night she'd supposedly broken the curse.

She saw herself plunging a hand into her own chest—not to remove the cage, but to reposition it. The bones had been a lock, not a prison. And Julian's kiss hadn't broken anything—it had sealed them both to the grove forever.

"There now," the willow crooned as Sabrina sobbed around the invading vine. "Isn't it easier when you stop lying to yourself?"

Outside, Julian's voice rang through the grove, calling her name. The sound sent conflicting thrills through Sabrina's corrupted nerves:

Love (his voice had always been her compass)Hunger (the grove wanted his bones for its collection)Shame (she'd left the wedding ring burning his finger)

The child's giggle echoed through the chamber. It stood at the foot of Sabrina's sap-drenched altar, now wearing Julian's face as a mask, its true form shifting beneath like worms in soil.

"Father's seeing such interesting things," it whispered, climbing onto the altar to straddle Sabrina's waist. "All our dead mothers. All our hungry siblings."

Its small hands pressed against Sabrina's belly, where the vine inside her quivered in response.

"He'll understand soon," the child continued, leaning down to lick a stripe of sap from Sabrina's throat. "Why you planted me here. Why you wanted the grove to take root in you."

Sabrina tried to scream, but the vine down her throat swelled in warning.

The child's smile split its stolen face. "Shall I show him? Shall I let him watch when the blooming really begins?"

Outside, Julian's voice grew closer. Desperate.

Sabrina closed her eyes—and let the grove show her how to lie better.

CHAPTER END: When Julian finally hacked through the willow's flesh, he found Sabrina blissfully empty-eyed, her legs slick with something darker than sap.