EPILOGUE: THE FIRST NIGHTMARE

Sabrina woke screaming.

The bed was too empty. Julian's side lay cold, the sheets stiff with dried sap neither of them could ever fully wash away. Outside, the white willows stood silent in the moonlight—too silent.

No whispers. No creaking branches.

Just the rustle of the wind through dead leaves.

She stumbled to the window, her bare feet sticking to the floorboards. Something wet seeped between her toes.

Sap.

Fresh sap.

It led to the nursery.

Sabrina's breath came in ragged bursts as she pushed the door open. The crib Julian had built last week stood empty, its blankets rumpled. But in the center of the mattress—

A single green sprout.

No larger than her pinky finger, its leaves still curled tight like a newborn's fist.

"No," Sabrina whispered.

The sprout quivered.

Then—

Pop.

The first leaf unfurled, revealing a perfect violet eye blinking up at her.

Downstairs, the front door creaked open.

A voice called up—Julian's voice, but wrong, like it was being pulled through soil:

"Sabrina? I found something… wonderful in the grove."

The floorboards groaned under too many footsteps.

TO BE CONTINUED IN

BOOK OF WHISPERING ROOTS