The hunger Within

Ethan left the church, his thoughts tangled in the priest's words.

There is still time to turn back. But soon, there won't be.

The idea gnawed at him, but only for a moment.

He knew the truth.

He didn't want to turn back.

The whispers in the shadows had grown clearer since the night before. They no longer murmured in fragmented echoes—now, they spoke with purpose. Their voices wove together, forming words that sank into his thoughts like roots burrowing deep.

More.

Stronger.

Feed.

He didn't know what they meant, not exactly. But something inside him did.

The drive home was a blur, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly, his foot pressing the gas harder than it should have. His mind felt distant, split between the physical world and the thing lurking beneath it.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, his hands were trembling.

Anna and Daniel were home. He could sense them before he even stepped inside.

Anna was in the kitchen. Her movements were sharp, deliberate. The way she put dishes away, the way she paced—it all spoke of unease.

Daniel was upstairs, his presence lighter, harder to grasp. But Ethan felt him. And more than that…

He felt something else.

The shadows near Daniel's room were different. Deeper. Watching.

Ethan inhaled, steadying himself, and stepped inside.

Anna was at the sink, rinsing out a glass, but the moment he walked through the door, she went still. The tension in her shoulders was immediate, a physical thing that thickened the air between them.

She turned, meeting his gaze. Her eyes searched him, wary.

"Where were you?" she asked, voice tight.

Ethan closed the door behind him, setting his keys down on the counter. "Out."

"Out where?"

He didn't answer right away. The shadows shifted subtly around his feet, unseen by her, responding to the flicker of irritation in his chest.

"With someone who might have answers."

Anna's expression darkened. "Answers to what?"

Ethan exhaled slowly. Lying wasn't an option—not anymore. She had seen too much.

"The things I can do. The things happening around us."

Anna swallowed, gripping the counter. "And? What did you find out?"

He studied her, his mind working through the best way to say it. Finally, he settled on the truth.

"That the world isn't what we thought it was."

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah, no kidding." Her hands tightened around the edge of the counter. "You set a newspaper on fire with your mind, Ethan."

Something inside him bristled. He could hear the unspoken words in her tone, the fear woven into them.

Anna took a slow breath, forcing her voice to steady. "What else did he tell you?"

"That I'm changing."

She went quiet.

"He said there's still time," Ethan continued. "That I could turn back."

Anna's lips parted slightly. "Then do it."

Ethan said nothing.

"Ethan," her voice cracked, just slightly. "Please. If there's a way to stop this, take it."

He should have expected that response. But hearing it made something twist in his chest.

He wasn't sure what was worse—the fear in her eyes or the hope.

Because he knew that hope was false.

"I can't," he finally admitted.

Anna flinched as if he had struck her. Her grip on the counter tightened until her knuckles turned white.

"You won't," she corrected bitterly.

Ethan held her gaze, and in that moment, they both understood something unspoken.

This was the point of no return.

A sound from upstairs broke the silence.

Daniel.

Ethan turned toward the stairs, that earlier sensation creeping back into his thoughts. The shadows in his son's room were wrong. He could feel them pressing against the walls, shifting, breathing.

Anna must have felt his change in focus because she took a step forward. "Ethan—"

But he was already moving.

Daniel's door was slightly ajar when Ethan reached it. He pushed it open slowly, stepping inside. The room was dim despite the daylight filtering through the curtains. The shadows had pooled unnaturally in the corners, thick and dense like ink.

Daniel sat on his bed, small fingers gripping the fabric of his blanket. His eyes lifted to meet Ethan's, wide and unreadable.

"They're here again," Daniel whispered.

Ethan's pulse quickened. "Who?"

Daniel hesitated, then pointed toward the darkest corner of the room. "Them."

Ethan turned his gaze toward the spot Daniel indicated. To the human eye, there was nothing but shadow. But Ethan wasn't just human anymore.

He saw them.

Lurking forms, shifting just beneath the surface of the darkness. Watching. Studying.

Waiting.

A slow, cold realization settled into Ethan's bones.

They weren't here for Daniel.

They were here for him.

Something inside the shadows moved.

Daniel whimpered, shrinking back against the headboard. "They don't like when you look at them."

Ethan exhaled. His fingers twitched at his sides. The shadows in the room rippled in response, recognizing him, acknowledging him.

Something inside him whispered.

Command them.

The thought was intoxicating. He could feel the power thrumming just beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed. He could send them away. Or he could call them closer.

They wanted something from him. And part of him wanted to give it.

Daniel's small voice cut through the growing haze in his mind. "Daddy?"

Ethan blinked, refocusing. He turned toward his son, seeing the tension in his little frame, the way he gripped his blanket like a shield.

Daniel was afraid.

Not just of the shadows.

Of him.

Ethan clenched his jaw and exhaled, forcing himself to step back. The shadows recoiled slightly at his movement, shifting restlessly, but they did not leave.

He turned toward the doorway, where Anna stood, watching with an expression caught between terror and heartbreak.

Ethan met her gaze.

He had been right before.

This was the point of no return.

And yet, even knowing that, he still wasn't afraid.

The hunger inside him had only grown.

And it would not be ignored.