I planned the operation for six hours.
This was excessive for a mosquito bite.
It was not excessive for a mosquito bite involving a woman whose blood came with a fatality warning.
Amelia left for class in the morning.
I used the time to study the room.
Distance from the curtain to her bed.
Air currents from the vent.
Safe landing sites.
Places a human hand could not reach quickly.
The underside of the bed frame became Route One.
The curtain fold became Route Two.
The gap behind the headboard became emergency cover.
The bathroom vent was rejected because it smelled like spiders.
Excellent decision.
I also studied Amelia after she returned.
She favored her right hand.
She brushed hair away from her face with her left.
When reading, she turned pages with minimal motion.
When irritated by Mayra, her shoulders became still before her voice became cold.
When cultivating, her awareness seemed to expand.
Bad.
Her body also became motionless.
Good.
The safest feeding point would not be her wrist.
Too visible.
Too responsive.
Ankle.
Specifically the back of her left ankle while she sat cross-legged.
The skin remained exposed between sock and pant cuff, far from either hand and low enough for my escape route to pass beneath the bed.
Mayra left around eight.
Amelia locked the door, sat on the bed, and closed her eyes.
Cold began gathering.
I waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Her breathing settled.
Frost reached its usual pattern across the lower window.
I launched.
Quiet was relative.
I still buzzed, but the building ventilation, distant hallway noise, and Amelia’s own controlled breathing gave me cover.
I flew low rather than crossing open air.
Under the desk.
Behind a chair leg.
Beneath the bed frame.
Every few inches, I stopped and listened.
No movement.
I rose beside the mattress.
Amelia’s ankle waited.
Warm.
The blood beneath it felt like concentrated winter sunlight.
That description made no sense.
My senses did not care.
The Codex appeared.
— High-grade source confirmed.
Recommended intake: Less than host maximum feeding capacity.
Warning: Excessive intake may cause immediate systemic failure.
— No pressure.
I landed.
Her skin shifted beneath my feet with each pulse.
I lowered my proboscis.
Piercing skin felt disturbingly natural.
My body knew the sequence without instruction: anticoagulant, insertion, feed.
The first trace of blood entered me.
The world ended.
Cold exploded through my abdomen.
Not temperature alone.
Energy.
Dense.
Alive.
Far too much for a body that weighed almost nothing.
I tried to stop.
My feeding muscles did not respond quickly enough.
One tiny additional fraction entered.
The Codex filled my vision with red.
— DANGER BIOLOGICAL ENERGY OVERLOAD FORCED PURIFICATION INITIATED — Pain tore through every part of me.
My abdomen burned, then froze.
My wings locked.
I ripped my proboscis free and fell from Amelia’s ankle.
No controlled withdrawal.
No Route One.
No tactical dignity.
I hit the blanket, rolled, and dropped over the edge.
One leg caught fabric.
I hung upside down while the Codex stripped apart what I had consumed.
Most of the blood’s energy was rejected.
Not expelled physically, but broken down and forced away from tissues that could not hold it.
A trace remained.
Amelia moved.
Her eyes opened.
I froze despite feeling as though winter had been poured into my body.
She looked at the red point on her ankle.
Then toward the edge of the blanket.
Toward me.
Her gaze was too accurate.
I released the fabric and dropped beneath the bed.
My wings failed.
I struck the floor.
Pain.
Cold.
Darkness.
Amelia’s feet touched the carpet on the opposite side.
The mattress shifted as she stood.
I crawled.
Walking with six legs should have been easier than two.
It was not.
My body barely responded.
I reached the shadow behind a storage box and pressed myself flat.
Amelia crouched beside the bed.
Her fingers touched the carpet.
Frost spread from them in a thin circle.
Searching.
The cold reached the storage box.
My body convulsed.
Then something inside the retained trace changed.
The Codex flashed.
— Host survival adaptation identified.
Compatible trace retained.
Trait integration available: FROST RESISTANCE I Cost satisfied through purified source material.
Proceed?
— Yes.
Immediately.
I selected the trait.
The remaining energy spread through my tissues—not as Amelia’s bloodline, not as control over ice, but as a survival response.
Cell membranes changed.
Proteins stabilized.
My body stopped locking under the cold.
Pain remained.
Function returned.
— FROST RESISTANCE I acquired.
Effects: – Increased tolerance to low temperatures – Improved function under mild cryogenic-energy exposure – Reduced cold-induced motor failure Limitations: – Does not grant ice control – Does not confer immunity – High-grade cryogenic energy remains dangerous — Good.
Amelia’s frost crossed beneath the storage box.
This time I remained functional.
I crawled deeper into shadow.
Her hand appeared near the gap.
I launched.
Poorly, but successfully.
My wing muscles worked.
I shot beneath the desk, rose behind the chair, and reached the curtain.
Amelia stood.
Her eyes tracked my movement until I vanished into a fold.
My abdomen felt like it had been used to store liquid winter.
But I was alive.
The Codex updated.
— Evolution Energy gained: +2.8 — Two point eight.
From less than a drop.
My front legs began rubbing together despite the pain.
Worth it.
Probably.
Amelia remained beside the bed.
She touched the bite on her ankle, then looked toward the curtain.
Her expression was not angry.
Anger would have been easier.
She was curious.
Very curious.
“Interesting,” she said.
One quiet word.
I somehow found it more frightening than a threat.
I stayed hidden until sunrise.
The operation had succeeded, technically.
I had taken one trace of blood, gained energy, and acquired a trait.
I had also convinced Amelia Winters that the mosquito in her room was worth investigating.
That had not been part of the plan.