Fractured Bonds

Ethan stood in the garage long after Noah had left, his pulse steady, his mind racing. The confrontation had been inevitable. He had seen it in Noah's eyes—the suspicion, the growing unease. Anna felt it too.

They were noticing the change.

But it was too late for them to stop it.

Ethan flexed his fingers, feeling the energy humming beneath his skin. The shadows had moved for him. Obeyed him. This was only the beginning.

He needed more.

His gaze shifted to the workbench. A screwdriver lay on the wooden surface, small and unassuming. He picked it up, rolling the cool metal between his fingers. Then, taking a slow breath, he focused.

The shadows quivered.

He tightened his grip, willing the darkness to respond, to converge. The screwdriver trembled, the air around it thickening as if an unseen force were pressing down on it. The shadows stretched unnaturally, curling toward his hand.

A flicker of pain shot through his palm. He glanced down.

The metal had darkened, warped at the edges.

Ethan's breath hitched. He had done that.

He released the screwdriver, and it clattered onto the workbench, smoke curling from the spot where his fingers had touched it. His heart pounded, but not from fear.

From exhilaration.

He was growing stronger.

A sudden knock at the door startled him. He turned sharply, schooling his expression before opening it. Anna stood on the other side, arms crossed, her face lined with concern.

"How long are you going to stay out here?" she asked. "Daniel's been asking for you."

Ethan forced a smile. "Lost track of time."

Anna studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. "Noah said you seemed off."

Of course, he did.

Ethan leaned against the doorframe, keeping his tone casual. "Noah worries too much."

Anna sighed. "I do too."

Something in her voice made his stomach twist. Not just worry. Fear.

She was afraid of him.

Ethan reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched—just slightly, but enough for him to notice.

A slow realization settled over him. She didn't trust him anymore.

He should have felt guilty. But all he felt was irritation.

"I'm fine, Anna," he said, his voice softer now. "Just stressed."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't believe him, but she didn't push. Instead, she sighed. "Daniel's waiting."

Ethan nodded and followed her back inside. The air in the house felt different, heavier, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Daniel sat at the dining table, swinging his legs as he scribbled on a sheet of paper. When he saw Ethan, his face lit up.

"Dad!"

The excitement in his voice sent an unexpected warmth through Ethan's chest. He sat down across from Daniel, glancing at the drawing. It was a rough sketch of a man standing in the center of swirling dark shapes.

Ethan's breath caught. "What's this?"

Daniel grinned. "It's you."

A chill ran down Ethan's spine. "Why do I look like that?"

Daniel shrugged. "Because you're changing."

Ethan's mouth went dry. "What do you mean?"

Daniel hesitated, then whispered, "The shadows like you."

The room felt colder. Ethan glanced at Anna, but she was busy in the kitchen, unaware of their conversation. He turned back to Daniel. "What do you see?"

Daniel looked down at his drawing, suddenly unsure. "They follow you. They listen."

Ethan's pulse pounded in his ears. His son could see it. Could feel it.

Just like he could.

Ethan swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "It's just your imagination, buddy."

Daniel frowned but didn't argue. He continued coloring, his small hands moving methodically. Ethan watched him, mind racing.

Daniel was perceptive. Too perceptive.

He would have to be careful.

Later that night, Ethan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. His face was the same—same sharp jawline, same tired eyes. But he could feel it, the shift beneath his skin. The power growing.

Daniel saw it.

Noah suspected it.

Anna feared it.

Ethan smiled to himself. Let them notice. Let them worry.

Because soon, it wouldn't matter anymore.

Soon, they would understand.

And by then, it would be too late.