The thing kept laughing.
Sera watched its chest rise and fall in shallow bursts. The sound pushed past broken teeth and the torn edges of its throat.
It did not blink because it had no eyes, but its head tilted in small, jerky movents that tried to track her presence. The skin over its face had healed wrong and sealed the sockets shut.
Sothing moved under the skin of its torso in slow waves.
Her creature stared through her eyes, alert and hungry. It does not see. It slls. It feels. It listens. And yet... it still thinks it is high on the food chain.
The barn air was thick with heat and old straw and the sour stink of dried blood. Dust floated through the shafts of light that cut in from the gaps in the roof. Sowhere to her left, a rope creaked as it took the weight of sothing in the loft above.
Outside, she could hear the faint scrape of boots as the hostead n shifted their stance.
Sera stepped further inside. Her boots brushed the edge of a dark stain on the floorboards. It was dry and cracked and had soaked deep into the wood. The creature’s head turned toward the sound, mouth stretching wider.
It lunged.
The movent was wrong. Too fast for its broken shape, the limbs snapping into motion with a speed that did not belong to sothing so twisted. Its hands clawed for her with crooked fingers that ended in chipped, broken nails. The bulge in its chest rippled as if sothing inside was helping it move.
Sera shifted one step to the side.
The creature’s hands closed on empty air. The montum pulled it forward into the open doorway behind her. It stumbled, caught itself on the doorfra, and let out another jagged laugh. The sound scratched along her nerves in an unpleasant way.
Her creature purred. Uncoordinated. It relies on power, not control. It thinks speed is enough to ensure a al.
Sera tilted her head and watched it reset its stance. It cocked its head again, listening for her breathing, her heartbeat, the small scuff of her boots. Its body swayed, finding the center point where it thought the next strike would hit.
Her fingers flexed.
She could end it in one breath if she wanted. One clean break. One severed spine. One crushed chest. But the creature in her chest liked to understand what it killed. It liked to see what a thing thought it could do before it died.
"I want to see how it moves," she said quietly.
Her voice echoed off the barn walls.
Behind her, Zubair’s presence settled closer to the door. Lachlan shifted to one side, waiting. Alexei stayed still, not interfering. Aerenyx’s breath ca in slow, controlled draws as he tasted the infection pattern in the air.
The creature lunged again.
This ti, it went low. Its hands hit the floorboards and dug in. It used its arms like extra legs, pushing itself forward in a fast scramble that ate up distance. Its mouth gaped wider, jaw cracking audibly as it reached for her.
Sera stepped forward instead of back.
She planted her heel hard against the floor and pivoted. Her hand snapped out, her fingers closing on the remains of its jaw. The skin there was soft and slick with dried saliva and fresh blood. The bones jutted at odd angles beneath the skin.
She squeezed.
The laugh cut off in a wet choke. The creature twitched, head pulling against her grip. Its hands flailed once, seeking her throat, her face, anything it could tear.
Her creature humd. Jaw weak. Spine stronger. Chest reinforced. There is sothing inside supporting it.
She wrenched its head to the side and slamd it into the nearest support post.
The wooden beam shuddered.
Part of the jawbone snapped. Teeth shattered. A spray of dark, viscous fluid burst from its mouth and splattered across the post. The creature’s body spasd. The bulge in its chest flickered and then trembled more violently.
It tried to laugh again.
The sound ca out in pieces. Half a choking wheeze, half a gurgle.
Sera released its jaw and stepped back half a pace.
"Not entertaining enough yet," she said.
The creature staggered and turned toward her again. Blood poured from its ruined mouth and ran down its neck. It dragged in a breath through torn tissue and let out a sound that might have been words once. The tone carried imitation. Sothing in it tried to match her voice.
Her creature stiffened. It is copying our movents. It listens and repeats. It is not thinking. It is echoing.
The thing lunged once more.
She let this one pass close.
The broken hands brushed her sleeve. The skin felt too hot, as if sothing inside was burning. The bulge in its chest shifted to one side, then the other, as if whatever was inside was choosing muscles for it. Its fingers curled around the suggestion of a grip.
She moved past its reach and brought her fist down across the back of its neck.
Bone cracked. The sound was clean and sharp under the thick barn air. The creature’s legs buckled as its arms gave out. It fell forward and hit the floor hard, chest smacking the boards with a thud that shook dust from the rafters.
It lay there, twitching.
Then sothing under the skin pushed up.
The bulge in its chest writhed more violently. The skin stretched until it threatened to tear. Ribs creaked. Its back arched at an angle that would have broken any normal spine.
Sera watched.
Her creature’s voice sharpened. There it is. The real parasite. The host is only packaging.
The chest split.
It wasn’t a clean line. The skin tore jaggedly, pushed up from within. Blood, fluid, and clots of infected tissue spilled across the floor. Sothing pale and flexible forced its way out, shuddering as it hit the air.
It looked like a bundle of cords fused together. Thin tendrils branched from a thicker central mass, each one tipped with small hooked barbs. The whole thing pulsed, drawing in and out as if it were breathing. Tiny, white, lidless pits along its length flexed and opened.
It turned toward her.
Her creature recoiled in disgust for a heartbeat. Cheap. Overgrown. Bad flavor. They rushed this. They did not perfect it.
Then it shifted to interest. But still dangerous if it spreads.
The tendrils of the parasite lashed forward, seeking Sera out.
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