The Leech was gone. But the ex-load? That was his to carry. And he had learned, in the long dark between one death and the next, that some weights are the only thing keeping you from floating away.
The parasite convulsed. Its filaments retracted, recoiling from the abyss inside Kael’s chest. It tried to detach, but Kael’s hand—slow, but now with a flicker of his own dark purpose—clamped over it. He felt its panic like a tiny, wet scream. ex-load leech
His mother’s face. Gone.
And for the first time in its existence, the predator was full. The Leech was gone
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. And he had learned, in the long dark
The first time he fired a weapon and hit the bullseye. Faded to a beige blur.