When Oliver loses everything, he runs.
After the death of the man he loved and the collapse of his marriage, Oliver drives west until there’s nowhere left to go. He finds refuge in a decaying cabin deep in the forests of the Pacific Northwest—a place thick with rot, silence, and with something watching from the trees.
The isolation should feel like freedom.
It doesn’t.
Each night, Oliver dreams of two cold moons hanging in the sky. Of roots threading through his veins. Of bones splitting and twisting into something not quite human. Each morning, he wakes with dirt beneath his nails and the taste of soil in his mouth.
The forest is getting closer.
The cabin shifts. The trees whisper. And something ancient is waking beneath the ground—something that knows Oliver, that remembers him, that wants him.
When he discovers a grove of bone-white trees and the thing that tends them, escape is no longer an option.
Trapped between grief, madness, and something far older, Oliver must confront a terrifying question:
Is the forest haunting him—
or is it trying to claim him?
For readers of atmospheric horror, psychological dread, and creeping body horror, When Roots Drink Deep is a descent into grief, transformation, and the things waiting beneath the surface.
