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Chapter 9: Back to Where It Began
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Chapter 11: No One is Innocent Here
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... to reach, there was a room made of nothing but silence and breath.
This was the Womb.
A place stitched together by Marque's will, where love became obsession, and grief learned how to shape flesh.
There were no walls, only roots. No floor, only pulsating red veins, twitching with every heartbeat that didn't belong to her. The air was warm and wet, humming lullabies that died halfway through their melody. Crib songs drowned in static.
And in the center, Marque.
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