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Right. The giant nightmare outside.

“And it wants me to replace you.”

“Yes.”

“So it can stay.”

“Yes.”

I laugh.

Mercy frowns. “What?”

“That’s it?”

Her expression changes. “Sage.”

“This whole fucking night.” I start pacing. “The ribbons. The masks. The rites. The three men. The dramatic fucking scarecrows.”

“Sage.”

“It isn’t some sacred destiny.” The anger catches fire. “It isn’t a prophecy.”

I look at her. “It’s hungry.”

Mercy’s eyes widen. “Yes.”

“And scared.”

The barn goes silent.

Mercy stares.

I feel it.

Not through magic.

Not through blood.

I just understand.

That thing chased me. Manipulated me. Tried to seduce me into a ritual. Why? Because it cannot simply take me. It needs me to agree. And I’m not going to.

A smile pulls at my mouth.

Mercy sees it. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’m going to starve the motherfucker.”

The barn doors explode inward and roots pour through.

I scream and Mercy shoves me backward. “GO!”

The room begins to change around us.

The food covering the tables collapses into rot, fruit blackening and bread molding before my eyes as the wood beneath it buckles with age. Candle flames sputter out one after another until darkness races across the barn.

Something cracks overhead.