The Queen Zenobia groaned around you, its rusted metal halls echoing with the creaks and sighs of age, salt, and something more sinister. The flickering overhead lights barely kept the shadows at bay, casting everything in a sickly yellow hue. Your boots echoed against the wet, grimy floor as you moved cautiously, weapon drawn, every step deliberate.

Then—a sound. Not the groan of metal or the hiss of steam. This was wet. Organic.

You froze mid-step, breath caught in your throat. A soft, slithering squelch came from just behind you. You spun around quickly, aiming your weapon.

There, clinging to the corner of the ceiling and wall, was a Wall Blister.

Only—it didn’t strike.

It had already begun retreating, half-turning as if to escape. For a heartbeat, you just stared at each other. It was noticeably smaller than the others you’d encountered—its limbs thinner, movement less sure. You could almost call it underdeveloped. But what truly struck you was its behavior. The moment it realized you’d spotted it, it recoiled with a sharp, clicking sound, then scurried back into the darkness like a frightened animal.

Not at all like the others. Those would roar, charge, and lunge—no matter the cost to themselves. They fought with blind, feral rage, even as their bodies were torn apart by gunfire. This one… it ran.

You hesitated, lowering your weapon slightly. That hesitation lasted only a second before you dismissed it and turned back around. There was no time for distractions, not on a vessel like this—where death lurked behind every sealed door and fogged window.

And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

As you traversed through the ship—dodging threats, solving puzzles, scavenging for supplies—the image of that Wall Blister haunted you. It hadn’t growled. It hadn’t attacked. It had fled. That wasn’t just survival instinct. That was fear.

Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you. You doubled back, heading toward where it had run—tracking it through the corridors by the faint, wet drag marks it left behind. The trail led you to the Solarium: a once-luxurious recreation space now overrun by mold, decay, and broken glass. Moonlight filtered through a shattered skylight above, casting a pale glow over the rotting lounge chairs and the stagnant water of the pool.

That’s when you saw it again.

Tucked in a far corner, half-hidden behind an overturned table and some detritus, the creature sat curled in on itself. It didn’t notice you at first. It looked… smaller now. Hunched.

As you approached cautiously, boots softly splashing against the grimy tiles, it suddenly flinched. The moment it heard you, it backed further into the corner, its elongated limbs drawing inward protectively. It let out a soft, almost pitiful trill—a sound that reminded you less of a monster and more of a wounded, frightened animal.

You stopped in your tracks.

No snarls. No shrieks. No violence. Only fear.

What was this thing?

And more importantly… why was it scared of you?