Chapter 8 The Choice

# Chapter 8: The Choice Thomas confronted Mrs. Halloway about the organism. "What is it? What have you been growing here?" She led him to a hidden chamber beneath the garden — a cavern filled with roots that pulsed like veins. At the center was a mass of dark, writhing tendrils, throbbing with a rhythm that matched Thomas's heartbeat. "It's ancient," Mrs. Halloway said. "Older than the manor. Older than the family. The Blackwoods discovered it centuries ago and learned to cultivate it. It provides everything — food, medicine, beauty. In exchange, it requires sustenance." "Blood," Thomas said flatly. "Yes. But not just any blood. The garden chooses. It feeds on those who are connected to it — caretakers, visitors, anyone who spends time in the garden." Thomas thought about the dreams, the accelerated growth, the impossible colors. "How many people has it fed on?" Mrs. Halloway's expression darkened. "Enough. The garden has always demanded a price. The question is whether you're willing to pay it." Thomas looked at the pulsing mass of tendrils. It was beautiful and terrifying — a living thing that sustained life by consuming it. "There has to be another way," he said. "There always is," Mrs. Halloway replied. "But the garden decides. Not us."