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Malakai's head tilts to the side with blood running from his nose. “The roots.”

“And?”

His face tightens.

“Everything.”

The Harvest towers above us. Hundreds of mouths smile. SOWER HAS CHOSEN.

The crowd answers.

CHOSEN.

REAPER HAS LIVED.

LIVED.

TILLER HAS ROOTED.

ROOTED.

The thing leans closer. Branches scrape against the sky. BRIDE SHALL GROW.

The Witnesses bow.

GROW.

My fear disappears. Just… gone. Not because I'm not terrified, because I am but something else finally becomes bigger.

Rage.

I try to sit up, but the roots around my wrist tightens. “Bride shall fucking what?”

Rhett looks at me. Even now. Even here. I see it. That tiny spark in his eyes.

The Harvest raises its arms and the old chant begins. Low. Ancient. Hundreds of voices.

Malakai translates beneath his breath. “Tiller prepares the Earth.”

The soil beneath me warms.

“Sower plants the seed.”

Ezra's jaw clenches.

“Reaper gathers the offering.”

Rhett looks toward the crowd.

Then Malakai stops.

I turn my head to look at him. “What?”

His eyes meet mine and I can tell he doesn't want to say it.

“Kai.”

“The Bride grows the Harvest.”