Kael stumbled, his rifle clattering into the muck. The Leech was on him. He didn't see it—he felt it. A thing of translucent cartilage and needle-fine filaments, it fused to his cervical spine, its body flattening against his skin like a second layer of frost. It weighed nothing. And then the feeding began.
Kael didn't look away. He owed them that much. ex-load leech
It didn't take blood. It took color .
The designation was "Ex-Load Leech." Officially, it was a classified parasitic entity, a biological weapon engineered in a forgotten war. Unofficially, it was the last thing a soldier felt before their luck ran out. Kael stumbled, his rifle clattering into the muck
Ten years ago, in a different war, on a different mud-ball planet, a shard of shrapnel had shredded his heart. He’d flatlined for ninety-seven seconds. The medics had dragged him back, but something had come with him—a splinter of the void. A little pocket of nothing that lived behind his ribs, patient and cold. Most days, he ignored it. But the Leech, in its ravenous feeding, found it. A thing of translucent cartilage and needle-fine filaments,
He squeezed.
And for the first time in its existence, the predator was full.