Kael first noticed it as a coin-sized patch of warm skin at the base of his neck, pulsing faintly beneath the surface. By day three, pale, firm bumps clustered there—too symmetrical to be natural. On the fifth night, he dreamed of crawling through a slick, nodule-lined tunnel, ending at a quivering slit. He awoke with a sharp sting along his neck.
The ship’s med-bay scanner found no anomaly, yet the bumps spread daily, forming a ridge down between his shoulders. In silence, he sometimes heard faint clicks, as if something moved inside him.
When he finally touched the ridge, it twitched. His vision dimmed, and the skin felt disturbingly thin—like a sealed seam.
That night, the ridge split. Clear fluid seeped out, and something dark shifted beneath.
By morning, Kael had vanished. In his cabin, sticky residue stained the pillow, and a faint trail of bumps led toward the corridor.

