Threads of Unseen

Ethan awoke before dawn, his body tense with an energy he couldn't shake. The remnants of sleep clung to him like cobwebs, but beneath the surface, something else stirred. Something foreign, yet familiar, like an old instinct that had been dormant for too long.

Beside him, Anna slept soundly, her breath slow and steady. In the dim light filtering through the curtains, she looked peaceful, untouched by the unseen changes unraveling in their world. Ethan wished he could feel the same, but he couldn't ignore what was happening to him—not anymore.

He sat up carefully, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet barely made a sound against the floor as he stood, moving through the room with a fluidity that surprised even him. It was as if his body had already adjusted to its new reality, as if the unseen force within him had rewritten his very movements.

Ethan stepped into the hallway, his pulse steady, his mind sharper than it had ever been. The house was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood settling. Yet, beneath that, he could hear more. The rhythmic ticking of the clock in the living room, the soft hum of electricity running through the walls, even the faintest breath of wind seeping through the cracks in the window panes.

And then, there were the shadows.

They stretched unnaturally along the walls, shifting in ways that defied logic. He knew it wasn't a trick of the mind. He had seen them react to him before. He had felt them respond.

Tonight, he would test them.

Ethan descended the stairs slowly, his fingers grazing the railing. The living room was dimly lit by the glow of the streetlights outside, casting long, distorted shapes across the floor. He moved toward the center of the room, standing in the same spot where the presence had first touched him.

He closed his eyes and reached—not with his hands, but with something deeper. A silent command, a whisper without sound.

The shadows trembled.

A thrill ran through him. He could feel them. Not just as an observer, but as something more. His will tugged at them, and they responded, slithering toward him like ink spreading through water. They curled at his feet, circling him like creatures waiting for a master's call.

He inhaled slowly. He could do more. He knew it.

The moment he pushed further, the air in the room thickened. The temperature dropped, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his skin. The pressure built, an invisible weight pressing against his chest. The shadows around him darkened, deepened, as if pulling from something beyond sight.

Then, a whisper—not in his mind, but in the room itself.

"Ethan."

His eyes snapped open.

The shadows recoiled instantly, scattering back to their places as if they had never moved at all. The house was silent again, yet the weight in the air remained.

He turned toward the staircase, where Daniel stood, his small figure barely visible in the darkness.

Ethan's heart lurched. He hadn't heard Daniel wake up. Hadn't sensed him approaching. And yet, there he was, staring at him with wide, sleepy eyes.

"Dad?" Daniel's voice was groggy, confused. "What are you doing?"

For a moment, Ethan hesitated. The rush of control, the thrill of power—it drained away, replaced by something heavier. Guilt.

He forced a smile, stepping toward his son. "Just couldn't sleep, buddy."

Daniel rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep. "You were talking."

Ethan's breath hitched. "Talking?"

Daniel nodded. "I heard you. But... it wasn't your voice."

A chill crept down Ethan's spine.

He crouched in front of his son, keeping his expression calm. "What did it sound like?"

Daniel frowned, his little hands gripping the fabric of his pajama shirt. "Like... lots of voices. But all together."

Ethan's throat went dry. He wanted to dismiss it, to chalk it up to a child's imagination. But deep down, he knew the truth. Daniel had heard something real. Something that had answered Ethan when he had reached too far.

He placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "It was probably just a dream, buddy."

Daniel blinked up at him, his brows furrowing. "Are you sure?"

No.

But Ethan nodded anyway. "Yeah. Come on, let's get you back to bed."

Daniel hesitated but eventually let Ethan guide him up the stairs. When they reached his room, Ethan tucked him under the blankets, smoothing his hair back. Daniel yawned, but his small fingers reached out, grabbing Ethan's sleeve.

"Dad?" he murmured.

"Yeah, buddy?"

Daniel's voice was barely above a whisper. "You're different."

Ethan froze.

His son's words struck deeper than they should have. It wasn't an accusation, wasn't spoken with fear. It was just a child's innocent observation.

But it was the truth.

He swallowed hard, forcing another smile. "I'm still me."

Daniel's eyes searched his face for a moment before sleep finally claimed him. Ethan watched him for a long time, his heart pounding harder than before.

He left the room quietly, closing the door behind him.

Standing in the darkened hallway, he exhaled slowly. His hands trembled, not with fear, but with the realization of how close he had come to losing himself. The power was intoxicating. The control, the connection to something greater—it was already changing him.

Daniel had seen it.

How much longer until Anna did too?