Shifting Shadows

When Ethan stepped inside his home, Anna was sitting on the couch, Daniel curled up beside her, fast asleep. The television cast a soft glow over the room, but she wasn't watching it. Her gaze lifted immediately when she saw him.

"Where have you been?" she asked, voice low but tight with worry. "I called you. You didn't answer."

Ethan hesitated. "I went to check on something with Noah."

Anna studied him. Her eyes flickered over his face, searching for something she couldn't quite put into words. Then she sighed, rubbing her temples. "You've been acting strange all day. What's going on?"

A sharp response sat on Ethan's tongue, something dismissive, cold. But he swallowed it down. He couldn't let Anna see the change—not yet. Not until he understood it himself.

"I'm just tired," he said. "It's been a long night."

Anna didn't seem convinced, but she didn't push further. Instead, she turned her attention to Daniel, brushing his hair from his forehead. "He kept asking where you were. You scared him, Ethan."

A pang of something—guilt?—stabbed at him, but it felt distant, dull. He should have felt worse. Should have felt something more. But instead, he simply nodded. "I'll talk to him in the morning."

Anna exhaled and stood. "You should get some rest too."

She walked past him, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek before heading toward the bedroom. The touch was warm, familiar. It should have comforted him. Instead, it barely registered.

Ethan turned back to Daniel, watching the slow rise and fall of his son's breathing. There was an odd stillness in the room, something quiet but heavy. He could hear the faintest sound of the trees outside shifting in the wind, the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock, even the soft murmuring of the television's static between channels.

He could hear everything.

His senses had sharpened. The air itself felt different, layered with things he had never noticed before. The shadows in the room weren't just shadows anymore. They had depth, weight. They moved when he wasn't looking directly at them.

Ethan closed his eyes for a moment, reaching inward, feeling for whatever had changed in him. And there—just beneath the surface—something pulsed. Something alive. It wasn't overwhelming. It wasn't screaming for control. It was simply… there. A part of him now.

And it felt good.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. Every time Ethan closed his eyes, he saw glimpses of something else—flashes of symbols, strange movements in the dark, whispers that faded before he could make out the words. It wasn't a dream. It was something more.

A presence lingered at the edges of his thoughts, observing.

When morning came, Ethan sat at the kitchen table, watching the sunlight stretch across the floor. It was strange how normal everything looked. How normal everything felt—on the surface. But underneath, he knew nothing was the same anymore.

Anna placed a cup of coffee in front of him, her eyes still laced with concern. "Are you working today?"

Ethan considered. Work? The idea felt foreign, almost trivial now. The thought of sitting in an office, answering emails, making small talk—it felt... wrong. Distant.

"I think I'll take the day off," he finally said.

Anna raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Maybe that's a good idea."

Daniel came running into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Dad!" His face lit up as he climbed into Ethan's lap. "You're home!"

For a brief moment, warmth spread through Ethan's chest. It was a simple thing—his son's excitement, the weight of his small frame leaning against him. It was real. Tangible.

But then something shifted.

Ethan's vision flickered. For just a second, Daniel's face wasn't his own. It was something else—distorted, stretched, his eyes hollow voids, his mouth curling into something unnatural.

Ethan blinked hard. And it was gone.

Daniel was just Daniel, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

A cold sensation trickled down Ethan's spine.

What the hell was happening to him?

Ethan spent the rest of the morning on edge. Every shadow seemed darker, every sound sharper. His perception had changed, and he didn't know if it was a gift… or a curse.

At one point, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, studying his reflection. He looked the same. But he wasn't. He knew that now. Something had woken inside him. Something that had been waiting.

And for the first time, Ethan wondered—

Was he really afraid of it?

Or was he beginning to like it?