Something was wrong with the Olive Seed. Something very, very wrong.
It should have been the size of an olive pit. It had been, when Ashlynn had first planted it beside her heart. Now it was three times that size, swollen and heavy with a surface that was the grey-green of old silver. A thousand delicate roots trailed from it, writhing and twitching in the cold air.
And it was pulsing. Slow and steady, with a dark green light that brightened and faded like a heartbeat. As though it had a life all its own. The roots writhed and swayed like thread underwater, brushing against her fingers.
No, not brushing her fingers, Ashlynn realized in horror. Cleaning them, like a cat licking up cream as the seed absorbed the warm blood that covered her fingers until there wasn't a drop left.
Ashlynn's stomach turned.
