Chapter 1
My little sister and I each bear a Heart-Seed Mark etched into our chests.
Inside each seed grow Heartbeat Petals—currency that can trade for anything under the boughs of The Heart-Root, the ancient devouring tree.
At eight years old, I tore out another to mend my older brother’s shattered bones after his brutal fight.
At ten, I plucked one Petal to cure Mom’s terminal cancer.
At twenty-four, I sacrificed my third and final Petal to wake my husband’s sister from a car-crash-induced vegetative state.
Six months later, two disasters struck at once: my father died in a horrific car wreck, and my husband’s mistress lost their unborn baby.
Both sides of my family flocked to The Heart-Root, all fixated on stealing my Petals for their own wishes.
I tried to reject to make the trade, but Mom shoved me hard toward the hollow trading cavity of the tree.
“Every bit of love we’ve poured into you these years, every Petal came from us! You’d really hold out and refuse to save your own father? Ungrateful girl!” my mom snapped.
My husband’s mom cut in sharp as a knife: “A good wife knows her place. It’s your duty to bring that baby back for your husband. If only you’d given him a son yourself.”
They tied me tight to the tree trunk. I watched a girl standing nearby get torn apart by black, writhing vines when she had no Petals left—her flesh dissolved straight into the tree’s roots to feed it.
But my Heart-Seed didn’t have a single Petal left either.
The girl’s screams didn’t last long.
I stood in the crowd, the chilling midnight wind biting at my face, my eyes locked on the platform beneath the colossal Heart-Root. The ancient tree’s canopy pierced the starry sky, its massive roots grounded in the void of the world’s fracture.
Under the silver moonlight, the Tree Keeper—a figure cloaked in shadows with a face like a porcelain mask—withdrew his hand from the screaming girl’s chest.
He held nothing. No glowing Heartbeat Petals. Just empty air.
Instantly, the girl’s body convulsed. Countless pitch-black roots erupted from her chest, tearing through her flesh like paper.
The dark vines shot out from her eye sockets, her throat, and between her fingers. In seconds, she was ripped apart from the inside out. Her flesh and shattered bones rained down onto the giant tree roots, instantly absorbed as fertilizer.
"Useless bitch!"
The voice didn’t come from a stranger, but from the dead girl’s father.
He stood at the edge of the platform, spitting on the spot where his daughter had just been vaporized. "Raising you was a waste of food! You white-eyed wolf, you definitely gave your Petals to some outsider!"
A wave of nausea hit me. I wrapped my arms around myself, my fingers subconsciously digging into the center of my chest. Beneath my ribs, there was only dead silence. There were no Petals left. Just a hard, shriveled, empty seed.
Not everyone in this world is marked by the Heart-Root. Only a chosen few are born with a seed branded in the center of their chest. In our family, it was just me and my little sister.
When someone genuinely loves you, a translucent Petal grows. Golden for family, cyan for friendship, rose for romance. We trade these Petals to the Heart-Root for miracles—health, wealth, even life itself.
I used to have three. Three warm, golden Petals born from my mother’s fleeting love during her pregnancy, right before my little sister was born.
After she arrived, my mother’s love vanished, poured entirely into her new favorite. My seed never sprouted a single Petal again.
And now, even those three were gone.
When I was eight, my older brother got his leg shattered in a street fight. I gave my first Petal to heal him.
When I was ten, my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I sacrificed my second Petal to cure her.
When I was twenty-four, right after I got married, my husband’s sister was left brain-dead from a car crash. My husband’s mom knelt and begged; my husband pleaded with soft, manipulative words. My heart softened. I gave my last Petal.
"Clara! Stop daydreaming! Get up there!"
A brutal shove from behind nearly sent me sprawling onto the blood-stained platform. I stumbled, gasping, only to feel a pair of strong hands grip my arms like steel vices. It was my brother.
"Dad’s body is getting cold in the hospital morgue," My brother hissed into my ear, his eyes bloodshot and manic. "The car crash crushed his skull. You need to resurrect him right now!"
My mother grabbed my collar, dragging me toward the imposing figure of the Tree Keeper. The tree’s midnight flowers were in full bloom, glowing with an eerie, ethereal light.
"Mom, let go..." I choked out, my heels dragging against the rough bark of the roots. "I can’t. I don’t have any—"
"Shut up and walk!" my mother screamed, her face twisted in a vicious snarl. She shoved me directly in front of one of the massive, glowing tree holes. "Tree Keeper! We want to trade! Take her Petals!"
The masked Tree Keeper slowly turned his head toward me. He raised his pale, slender hand.
Panic, raw and suffocating, seized my throat. The image of the girl exploding into black roots flashed before my eyes.
"No! Wait!" I shrieked, desperately wrestling against my brother’s grip. "I don’t have any Petals left! My seed is empty! If he reaches in, I will die!"
The clearing fell dead silent. Then, the family erupted.
"You lying bitch!" My mother slapped me across the face so hard my vision blurred. "I raised you for over twenty years! Fed you, clothed you! How could your seed be empty? Are you saying we never loved you?!"
"You’re just selfish, Clara!" My brother roared, twisting my arm until I cried out in pain. "It’s Dad! He’s dead, and you’re hoarding your Petals because you’re afraid of a little pain? You cold-blooded monster!"
"I didn’t!" I screamed, tears of pure despair streaming down my face. "I gave them to you! To Mom, to my brother, to my husband’s sister! I have nothing left!"
"Lies!" my mother shrieked. "Hold her down! Force the trade!"
My brother kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to the ground. My mother grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my chest to the tree hole.
The Tree Keeper stepped closer. His hand was inches from my heart. I could feel the unnatural, freezing aura radiating from his fingertips.
One minute left until the flowers close.
If his hand penetrated my chest and found no Petals, the Heart-Root would rip me apart. I would become fertilizer, just like the girl before me.
Adrenaline flooded my veins. With a feral scream, I bit down hard on my brother’s wrist. He howled and loosened his grip for a fraction of a second.
I threw my weight backward, ramming my elbow into my mother’s stomach. She gasped, letting go of my hair.
I scrambled on my hands and knees, scrambling off the platform, throwing myself out of the tree’s silver illumination just as the Tree Keeper’s hand thrust forward, grabbing empty air.
Dong.
A deep, resonant chime echoed through the fracture in the world.
The silver light instantly vanished. The massive, glowing flowers of the Heart-Root folded inward, sealing tight. Fifteen minutes were up.
The Tree Keeper slowly lowered his hand. His emotionless voice carried across the dark clearing. "This blooming period has ended. The next window will open in exactly forty-eight hours at midnight."
I lay on the dirt, gasping for air, trembling so violently I could barely feel my own limbs. I survived. Just barely.
But before I could even catch my breath, a heavy boot slammed into my ribs.
I coughed violently as my mother hauled me up by my hair, her eyes burning with a murderous rage.
"Forty-eight hours," she hissed, her spit hitting my face. "You have exactly forty-eight hours, Clara. I swear to God, I will lock you up, and I will beat you until you willingly walk up to that tree. "
She dragged me toward the exit of the fracture, my brother and my little sister following close behind with cold, indifferent eyes.
My ribs throbbed in agony, but my mind was spinning with a terrifying clarity.
I only had forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight hours to find someone—anyone in this twisted world—who could look at me, hold me, and give me single, genuine love. Just enough to sprout one new Petal.
If I couldn’t, in two days, I would be torn to shreds...
