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She curled forward, holding her midsection. A sound leaving her mouth like she was choking on something. The corners of her lips turned up, causing her eyes to thin.

I had observed humans and Novians laugh, but never at such close proximity to me.

All prior sacrifices—except for one, many rotations ago—never left the feeding room , choosing instead to snivel and cry until their end.

This frail human was a paradox.

A sliver of my shadows curled around her arms, and I pulled them back. I could not cease reaching for the Little Mortal.

There was something wrong with this one. From my observations, I knew she was seldom around others of her kind, had this caused her oddities?

“Let’s do this,” she breathed, lifting her chin.

I cocked my head. Very strange human and her very strange speech patterns. She would not succeed. I had claimed and been serviced by plenty of Novian females. A human could not hold a candle to them.

Soon she would be extinguished, and I would not have to question her unusual behaviors any longer.