— Sophia’s POVEthan’s words kept ringing in my ears, Irene, you’re my son, when the air shifted.It wasn't wind, it wasn't even breath.It was like the whole clearing inhaled.The shadows leaned, every single one, like trees bending in a storm you couldn’t see. Their heads, or whatever counted as heads, tilted toward Irene.And he…My boy arched against me, his spine rigid, and he gritted his teeth. His small fingers dug into my arms so deep I felt skin break. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was anchoring.Holding onto me like he was the last one drowning.But at the same time, his chest pushed forward, like strings were pulling him to the slab.Both. At once.I didn’t know how to hold that. I didn’t know how to fight something invisible, something inside him.My throat locked. I wanted to scream. I couldn’t.Ethan staggered, every breath a rattle. His shirt soaked crimson, sticking to his skin. He should’ve been down. Should’ve been gone already. But he wasn’t. He stood. Somehow
— Sophia’s POV Ethan’s voice cut through me like a knife. Not the voice-that-wasn’t-his earlier. Not the imitation.I knew the voice, I knew that was him. He was hurt. Ragged. And my goodness, I wanted to believe it.Irene froze at the slab, his tiny shoulders trembling. His hand hovered, fingers curling like he didn’t want to touch it but couldn’t stop himself either. Like something had tied invisible strings from his veins straight into the stone.“No—no, no, Irene, don’t,” I begged, my feet dragging through the grass as if the ground itself didn’t want me to move forward. Every step heavier than the last.The shadows bent closer, tall and wrong. Their edges blurred in the clearing’s pale light, like smoke trying to become solid. All of them… were waiting. They were watching him.Not me.Him.Always him.Ethan stumbled toward us, blood soaking through his shirt, dripping down his arm. His left hand shook as he pressed it against his side, failing to stop the leaking. He was h
— Sophia’s POVI didn’t look back.I fought every urge not to, because I wanted to. My goodness, every nerve in my body screamed for it. To see if Ethan was still standing. To see if he was fighting or falling or, No. No, I couldn’t.Irene’s weight in my arms… that was the only thing keeping my legs moving. He was so heavy, heavier than he should be, like every step I carried more than just him. Like I was dragging both of us through molasses, through mud that wanted us sunk.The branches from the woods slapped at my face. Wet leaves clung to my skin. The forest wasn’t just trees anymore, it felt alive, shifting. The trunks too close, then too far. The ground uneven. Every step I thought I’d trip and drop him. My arms ached. My chest burned.I kept hearing him though. Not Ethan. Irene.“Mummy, please don’t let go. Don’t let go.”He kept saying this over and over. His little voice broken, breathless, his fingers clawing into my shirt like he knew if he loosened even a little, th
— Sophia’s POVThe sound was worse than the sight.That tearing. The fibers ripping apart like wet cloth.The sack stretching in wrong places before it gave. A long seam yawning open.Irene didn’t flinch.He just stared. His small hand clenched so tight in mine I could feel the bones.The smell hit next. Sharp, metallic, rotted sweetness underneath. Like rust and spoiled fruit left out too long.Ethan stepped forward. Too fast. “Stay back.”But the shorter man didn’t move. Neither did the taller one. They just stood there. Watching. Like this was exactly what they were waiting for.The sack bulged, lifted, collapsed again. Something inside was shifting, heavy. Too heavy.My throat burned. I wanted to scream, but it caught in my chest, came out broken. “What—what is it?!”Nobody answered.Then a hand slipped free.Not like Irene’s. Not a child’s. Not even like ours. Too long. Skin stretched thin over sharp bones. Fingers curling in the dirt like roots trying to dig down.I staggered ba
— Sophia’s POVI don’t know why I didn’t scream.I should’ve. my goodness, any normal mother would’ve. But when I saw Irene’s hand, his little palm curled open like he was expecting someone to slide theirs into his, I just… froze.Not the kind of frozen where you’re stunned for a second and then shake it off. No. This was bone-deep. Like my muscles had forgotten they belonged to me.The room was quiet. Too quiet. Even Ethan wasn’t moving by the door. I could hear the old clock in the kitchen ticking. Every tick was too sharp.I leaned down slowly, brushing Irene’s hair back. He was asleep. Mouth slightly open, lashes twitching like maybe he was dreaming. But that hand, my God, it was too deliberate. Not loose like sleep. It was waiting.I whispered, “Irene, baby… close your hand.”Nothing.I touched his fingers gently. They were warm, soft. Normal. But the second my palm brushed his, his whole arm jerked.And he didn’t wake up.No flinch in his eyes. No startled gasp. Just a deep,
— Sophia’s POVI didn't want night to fall immediately. I hoped perhaps if I just moved, acted, did the dishes, laundry, folding the same goddamn sweater over and over again, perhaps the sun would stretch out, linger a little.But It didn’t.It only slipped away quickly, as if it knew something I didn’t. Or perhaps… as if it didn’t want to see what would be next.By the time the sky had become that deep bruised-blue, my chest had already tightened up.Ethan was so unique to me. He wasn't loud, he wasn't pacing. He was just. snappier. And like every step was a calculation.He double-checked the locks. Then the windows. Then the back gate. His hand remained on the bolt as if he were considering adding another.He didn’t look at me much.I think he didn’t want me to see whatever was in his eyes.Irene was quiet too. Too quiet for a kid who usually made up stories about dragons at dinner. He pushed his peas around, barely ate.When I asked him if he would like dessert, he simply shook