The red ribbon drifted through the black void with an unsettling grace. It did not rush him. It did not threaten him, either. It simply existed, like last time.
Ronan did not back away. He had no body to move, no ground to retreat from.
He also knew why he was here.
He sighed, or at least did internally due to his lack of body.
Of course. He had not wanted to rely on this, had considered it a tool of last resort. A desperate final card to be played when all other options were exhausted. He internally recoiled at the necessity of it, but survival was a far more compelling argument than pride.
The Leech would not let him die.
The ribbon slowly coiled, weaving itself into a humanoid shape made of shifting, silken strands.
Are you going to save me again? Ronan thought, directed at the leech.
He expected a simple confirmation.
The response that came back was not that.
No. I will not.
