The thing resting in Sophia’s palm was no ordinary organism.
It was no bigger than a fingernail. Its black shell gleamed, reflecting the light the way a slick of oil shimmers across water. At first glance it resembled a tick—but its outline was unnervingly symmetrical, almost engineered, its edges too precise to be natural.
It twitched.
Matthew could not see it, yet he felt the shift instantly. Not in his eye—but deeper, somewhere behind his forehead. As if a pressure he had carried since childhood, an invisible emotional cork, had suddenly been pulled loose.
Richard stood frozen a few steps away, shackled by disbelief and a rising, icy dread.
“Security! Grab that girl!” he finally bellowed.
Sophia didn’t so much as flinch. Slowly, deliberately, she opened her hand.
The tiny dark creature, already beginning to dry in the sunlight, released a thin, piercing shriek—so high it was almost beyond hearing.
Then it sprang.
Not toward Richard—but straight down onto the marble floor.
“Don’t step on it,” Sophia snapped sharply. “If you crush it here, the spores will trigger. It’ll rupture.”
Richard halted mid-step. The guards, who had started forward, stopped several yards away, paralyzed.
The creature darted with grotesque speed, skittering toward the shadow cast by the grand piano. It moved as though drawn by instinct, seeking darkness.
“What the hell is that?” Richard gasped.
“A Nocturne,” Sophia replied, tracking the faint black streak it left in its wake. “They survive where light has been deliberately sealed away.”
At that moment Matthew spoke again. Ironically, the blind boy was the only one thinking clearly.
“That wasn’t the only one,” he said hoarsely. “My other eye—it’s burning. Like there’s a shard of light trapped inside.”
The realization struck Richard like an electric shock. If there had been one parasite… there had to be another.
Sophia hurried to the piano, dropped to her knees, and studied a narrow slit near its base.
“There’s a nest here,” she murmured. “That one was just a scout. And it wasn’t trying to steal your sight.”
A cold wave slid down Richard’s spine.
“Then what was it doing?”
“Protecting what you refused to see,” Sophia answered, pointing toward the hollow in the wall. “And now they know. If we interfere, we’ll wake them all.”
Richard hesitated only a fraction of a second. Witch or something worse, it didn’t matter—she was the only person in the room who understood any of this.
“Take it out,” he said.