CHAPTER 6: VISIONS OF THORN AND WOMB

The black sap burned Julian's eyes open.

He knelt in the grove's heart, his palms pressed to the earth as the visions came—not like memories, but like teeth. Each one bit deep, pumping his veins full of truths that squirmed behind his eyes:

First Vision:

A younger Sabrina—twelve years old, her knees muddy from kneeling—pressing a stillborn kitten into a shallow grave. As she covered it with soil, the tiny corpse twitched. The earth birthed it back whole but wrong, its eyes violet, its mewl a perfect mimic of Sabrina's own voice.

"Good," whispered the grandmother's shadow. "Again."

Second Vision:

Julian's father at seventeen, sobbing as vines forced his mouth open. A willow branch, sharpened to a point, hovered at his lips—

"No!" Julian wrenched sideways, but the vision continued:

The branch plunged down Elias' throat, pinning him to the earth as the grove pumped its essence into his screaming body. His belly swelled grotesquely, the skin stretching translucent over squirming roots.

Nine months later, a child was "born" from a split willow trunk—

—the same child now watching Julian with Sabrina's stolen smile.

Third Vision:

The night Sabrina broke the curse.

She stood over Julian's sleeping form, her fingers tracing his lips. "I can't let them take you too," she whispered. Then she bit her own wrist, letting black sap drip into his parted mouth.

The Julian in the vision swallowed obediently, his Adam's apple bobbing as the grove's essence took root in his belly.

Present Reality:

Julian gagged, clawing at his own throat. The child crouched before him, tilting its head.

"Now you understand," it said sweetly. "Mother didn't break the curse. She *shared it. With you."

It pressed a tiny hand to Julian's abdomen, where a deep, unnatural heat had begun to pulse.

"Your turn to carry the seed, Father."

CHAPTER END: Julian's skin split open along his ribs, revealing sprouting thorns beneath.