The dissecting table bled violet.
For three hours, the only sounds within the subterranean vault were the rhythmic rasp of Cattleya”s bone chisel, the clink of glass retorts, and the muffled thrum of the textile looms running overhead.
The living harvester lay pinned beneath iron clamps, its skin peeled back in clean, surgical flaps. Its inner anatomy was a grotesque fusion of human organ systems and parasitic vampiric structures”three heart chambers pulsing out of rhythm, threaded with dark, pressurized conduits that fed the creature's hollow ivory talons.
Cattleya worked with cold, mechanical efficiency. Her surgical gloves were coated in dark, iridescent fluid, but her long fingers never wavered. Beside her, Rusty stood pale and shivering, holding a lantern close to the specimen”s th
