The switchblade burned in Vinny's palm, its markings flaring to life as the roots surged toward them. Time slowed—Deborah's scream stretched into a hollow echo, Silas's shouted warnings muffled as if underwater. Only the blade felt real, its heat searing Vinny's skin as the engravings pulsed in perfect sync with the marks on his arm.
Then—instinct.
Vinny pivoted, slashing the blade through the air in a wide arc. It shouldn't have reached the roots—they were still feet away—but the moment the blade moved, the markings on his arm *ripped* free, silver streaks of light slicing through the darkness like razor wire. The roots fell in wet, twitching segments, black sap spraying across the ruined lawn.
Silas let out a bark of laughter. "That's it, kid! That's your *blood!*"
Sheila—or whatever wore her skin—hissed, her vine-strung hair writhing like snakes. Behind her, the Daniel-monster roared, its thorn-filled maw gaping wide as it lurched forward.
Vinny didn't have time to process what he'd just done. He grabbed Deborah's wrist, shoving her behind him as the roots regrouped, the severed ends already regrowing.
"Lena!" Vinny shouted.
She was already moving, her silvered eyes gleaming as she snatched up a fallen tree branch. With a snarl, she drove it straight through Sheila's chest—or tried to. The wood *sprouted* the moment it touched her, blooming into a tangle of roots that wrapped around Lena's arms instead.
"Fuck!" Lena wrenched back, but the roots held fast, crawling up her elbows like hungry vines.
Silas was at her side in an instant, his switchblade flashing. The roots recoiled from its touch, withering to black dust. "Silver and iron," he growled. "Only things that bite back."
Deborah's fingers dug into Vinny's shoulder. "We can't fight this."
She was right. The Daniel-thing was still coming, its roots regrowing faster than they could cut them. Sheila's laughter rang through the night, high and unhinged. And Vinny—Vinny could *feel* the tree watching through his mark, drinking in his fear.
The switchblade trembled in his grip.
Then—a memory. Not his own.
_A woman with his mother's eyes standing before the oak, her arms marked just like his. She pressed her palm to the bark and whispered, "The roots remember." The tree *shuddered*, its branches recoiling._
Vinny's breath caught.
"Silas!" he shouted. "Can the marks *hurt* the tree?"
Silas's golden eye locked onto him. A slow, feral grin spread across his face. "Took you long enough to ask."
That was all the answer Vinny needed.
He lunged—not away from the roots, but *toward* them. Deborah's scream followed him, but the marks on his arm were singing now, the pain sharp and clean as the blade's glow intensified. The first root lashed at his face—Vinny ducked, slashing upward. The severed tendril writhed, its stump smoking.
The Daniel-thing howled, its pain echoing through the night.
Sheila's laughter cut off abruptly. "No," she whispered. "You don't *understand*—"
Vinny didn't let her finish. He pivoted, driving the blade straight into the ground. The markings on his arm *surged*, silver light racing down the blade and into the earth like lightning. For one heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the ground *exploded*.
Roots erupted in a geyser of dirt and decay, their severed lengths twitching as silver fire raced along their lengths. The Daniel-monster staggered, its massive form crumbling as the roots binding it turned to ash. Sheila shrieked, her vine-strung hair withering—
And then, from the woods, the *tree* screamed.
It was a sound Vinny felt in his bones, a screech of ancient, wounded fury. The oak's branches thrashed, its trunk splitting further as black sap oozed from the cracks.
Silas whooped, grabbing Lena as she stumbled. "Move, you idiots! It's *pissed!*"
Vinny didn't need telling twice. He wrenched the blade free and ran, catching Deborah around the waist as they sprinted for Silas's battered pickup truck parked haphazardly down the street. Behind them, the tree's roots tore free of the earth, lashing blindly in their wake.
Lena reached the truck first, yanking the passenger door open. "In! *Now!*"
They piled in just as a root speared the ground where Vinny's feet had been seconds before. Silas cranked the engine, swerving onto the road as roots punched through the asphalt behind them.
Deborah gripped Vinny's arm, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "What the *hell* was that?"
Vinny looked down at the switchblade, its markings still faintly glowing. His own marks pulsed in answer, the silver lines now creeping past his elbow.
Silas met his eyes in the rearview mirror, his golden eye gleaming. "That," he said, "was your *inheritance*."
As the truck peeled into the night, Vinny could still feel the tree's rage burning in his veins—and worse, its *hunger*.
It wasn't done with them yet.