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“No!”

Thin roots push outward beneath their skin.

I grab Ezra’s hand.

The tiny red kernel in his palm has sunk deeper, nearly swallowed by his flesh. Delicate black lines branch away from it beneath his skin.

“Get it out.”

“I tried.”

“Try harder!”

I dig my nails around the kernel.

Ezra catches my wrist.

“Sage.”

“Don’t.”

“It isn’t hurting me.”

“It is inside your fucking hand.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Not helping.”

A hand suddenly closes around my ankle.

I look down.

Malakai is on both knees, one palm pressed flat against the earth.

His eyes are completely black.

“Kai.”

He doesn’t answer.

I crouch in front of him.

“Kai, talk to me.”

His fingers tighten around my ankle.

“Don’t cut them out.”

“What?”

“The seeds.”

He drags in a sharp breath.

Rhett looks from his own palm to Malakai.

“Why?”