The Veil

Ethan lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Anna's breathing was slow and steady beside him, her body curled slightly toward his, but he barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere—far beyond the confines of their bedroom, beyond the walls of the house. It stretched into the darkness, into the strange, shifting presence that had been with him ever since he stepped into that house.

He could still feel it—the hum beneath reality, the subtle vibrations in the air, the unseen eyes lingering just beyond the veil of normalcy. It wasn't fear that kept him awake. It was something else entirely. Something almost… exhilarating.

The way the shadow had responded to him earlier—it had recognized him. Acknowledged him. That thought sent a slow, cold thrill through his veins. Whatever was happening to him wasn't random. He wasn't just witnessing something strange. He was becoming something else.

A faint creak echoed from outside the bedroom door. Ethan's ears twitched, his senses sharper than before. It wasn't the usual settling of the house. No, this was deliberate. A movement with intent.

Slowly, carefully, he slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake Anna. The air in the hallway was thick, heavy, charged with something unseen. The shadows cast by the dim light seemed deeper, stretching unnaturally along the walls.

He moved toward Daniel's room, every step silent. Something inside told him to check. To make sure. The whisper in the back of his mind urged him forward.

When he pushed open the door, Daniel was still in bed, small and peaceful, lost in the depths of sleep. But the room wasn't empty.

A shadow clung to the farthest corner of the ceiling, unmoving yet alive. It pulsed, faintly shifting, like ink suspended in water. Watching.

Ethan exhaled slowly. He could feel it—its awareness, its waiting.

His pulse should have quickened. His body should have reacted with fear, with the instinct to run, to protect his son. But instead, he stepped further inside, his voice low, almost coaxing. "You're still here."

The thing in the corner didn't speak—of course, it didn't—but it reacted. A ripple passed through its form, something close to recognition.

Ethan raised his hand, palm open. The whisper inside him grew louder, a quiet urging. Not in words, but in understanding.

Come closer.

The shadow shifted. For a moment, it hesitated, flickering at the edges, resisting some unseen pull. But Ethan could feel it weakening. It wanted to obey. It wanted to answer.

It began to descend, slow and fluid, inching toward his outstretched hand like an animal testing its boundaries. Ethan's breath came steady, his fingers tingling with anticipation. He could feel something changing in the air between them—a bond forming, a tether tightening.

Then, just as the shadow reached him—

"Ethan?"

Anna's voice shattered the moment.

The shadow recoiled instantly, snapping back into itself and vanishing into the darkness. The weight in the air lifted, the charged energy dissipating like mist in the sun. All that remained was the dim glow of Daniel's nightlight and the steady rise and fall of his small chest.

Ethan turned toward the doorway. Anna stood there in her nightgown, arms crossed, eyes heavy with sleep. "What are you doing?"

For a split second, he considered telling her. About the shadow. About what he was feeling. About the strange, impossible connection forming between him and something beyond human understanding.

But then he looked at her, really looked, and saw the concern in her eyes. She wouldn't understand. She would be afraid.

"I thought I heard something," Ethan said instead, keeping his voice calm, measured. "Just checking on Daniel."

Anna frowned but didn't question it. "Come back to bed."

He hesitated. The whisper in his mind hadn't faded. The thing in the darkness was still there, still waiting. But he knew he couldn't push too far—not yet. So he nodded and followed her back down the hall.

Lying beside her again, Ethan stared at the ceiling, his fingers tingling with the memory of what almost happened. The shadow had nearly touched him. Had nearly answered.

A slow, knowing smile curled at the edge of his lips.

It wasn't running from him anymore.

It was waiting for his command.