Outside stood a girl no older than Sabrina had been at the start. Pale. Shivering. Holding a raw turnip like a talisman.

Sabrina looked at the turnip. Plain. Earthy. Unenchanted. No stolen joy. No trapped memory. Just a root that grew in the dark, patient and unimpressed.

鈥淲hat are you hungry for ?鈥�

For the first time in years, she wept. Not tears. Ash. Gray and dry, crumbling on her cheeks.