The First Change

I did not sleep after Mara left.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the voice repeating the same warning inside my head. I told myself it had been a dream caused by exhaustion, but the second heartbeat made that explanation impossible. It continued beneath my own pulse.

I sat on the edge of my bed with the lamp burning beside me. The room looked normal, but something about it felt different. I could hear the clock ticking across the room, and each movement seemed painfully loud.

I could hear the wind brushing against the roof, the branches scraping against the window, and even the faint movement of Mara’s footsteps somewhere downstairs.

I frowned as I remembered that Mara had already gone downstairs, and I could not understand how I was hearing her so clearly. I stood up slowly and listened.

There it was again. Footsteps moved across the wooden floor below me, followed by the soft creak of a cupboard. Then I heard water running in the kitchen.

My heart began beating faster, and the second heartbeat answered. I walked toward the bedroom door and opened it.

The hallway was dark, but I could see everything clearly. Moonlight showed me the pictures on the walls, the table beside the staircase, and even the dust floating through the air.

I realized I could see the dust. Even in the darkness, every tiny particle seemed outlined against the moonlight.

I blinked several times, but nothing changed. I whispered, “What is happening to me?”

A sound came from downstairs, and when I turned toward the staircase, Mara called my name.

Her voice sounded closer than it should have, so I answered, “I’m here,” but no response came, I descended the stairs carefully, but halfway down, I heard another sound. Something was scratching against the back door.

I held my breath and listened as the scratching came again, slow and deliberate. I looked toward the kitchen. Mara was standing near the counter with her back turned towards me.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

She turned around. “Hear what?”

“The scratching,” I said, and Mara frowned. “What's scratching?”

I stared at the door. “It is coming from outside.”

She walked toward me. “I do not hear anything.” Another scrape dragged across the wood, this time I heard it clearly, but Mara only stared at me.

“How can you not hear that?” “Hear what, Orelith?” I stepped closer to the door, when the sound stopped, I reached for the handle.

Mara caught my wrist. “Do not open it.”

“Why?” I asked. “I do not know.” She said almost immediately. The second heartbeat began pounding beneath my ribs, something was outside, and I could feel it.

I looked through the small glass panel beside the door, but the darkness outside was too thick for ordinary eyes to penetrate.

My senses felt strangely sharp. Even through the darkness, I could see the trees, the fence, and the wet leaves scattered across the ground as clearly as though the moon were shining directly on them.

Then something moved between the trees, and I instinctively reached for Mara.

“Mara, stay away from the door,” I whispered, unable to take my eyes off the darkness outside. She looked from me to the window, confusion spreading across her face. “What did you see?”

“I am not sure,” I admitted, because whatever stood among the trees had disappeared before I could make sense of its shape.

I stared harder, forcing my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then the creature appeared again, much farther away than before.

This time I could make out the outline of its body, the way it moved between the trees with an unnatural ease, and the faint reflection of something pale where its eyes should have been.

It was too tall to be a person, and when I blinked, I could see it more clearly, it had four legs, and my stomach dropped.

“Orelith?” Mara whispered. “There is something outside.” Mara moved beside me and followed my gaze toward the darkness. “Where?”

“Between the trees.” She stared into the forest, but her expression remained confused. “I cannot see anything.”

I could see it clearly, the creature stood motionless among the trees, watching the house while the moonlight caught the strange reflection in its eyes. A chill moved through me as I realized it was not passing through the forest. It was watching us.

Then it turned and disappeared between the trees, I stepped away from the door as Mara grabbed my shoulders. “What did you see?”

I do not know, I said looking at Mara with fears in my eyes.

You  are shaking, Mara said, reaching for my hand. It was not a dog I said, then what was it? Mara asked.

“I said I do not know.” My voice cracked as the second heartbeat suddenly grew stronger beneath my ribs. Before I could steady myself, another heartbeat reached my ears from somewhere outside.

I stared at the door. “There is something else. I can hear its heart.” Mara looked at me in disbelief. “You cannot hear a heartbeat through a door.”

“I know,” I whispered, but the sound continued somewhere beyond the walls. It seemed to vibrate inside my skull until I pressed my fingers against my temples.

“Make it stop.” Mara stepped closer. “Orelith, what is happening?”

“I do not know.” The heartbeat outside suddenly stopped, and the strange heartbeat inside me answered, for a moment, every other sound in the house seemed to vanish, leaving only my breathing and that unfamiliar rhythm beneath my ribs.

Mara whispered my name, but although I could see her lips moving, I could not understand her words. Then my hearing returned all at once, and the sudden flood of sound nearly overwhelmed me.

I could hear the clock upstairs, the pipes inside the walls, Mara’s breathing, the wind outside, and my own frantic heartbeat. I covered my ears. “Make it stop!”

Mara grabbed me and pulled me away from the door. “It is going to be okay.”

“No, it is not.” I looked down at my hands and noticed the strange pressure building beneath my fingernails, my fingers trembled as I rubbed them together, but the sensation only grew stronger.

“Mara, look at my hands.” She stared at them, and the fear on her face made my stomach drop. “What is happening to your fingers?”

“I do not know.” The skin around my nails tightened painfully, and I watched in horror as my fingernails began lengthening and darkening, their tips hardened and curved forward, slowly becoming something that looked more like claws than human nails.

I tried to look away, but I could not. “Mara,” I whispered, fighting back tears, “what is happening to me?”

She stepped backward, staring at my hands. “I do not know.”

The second heartbeat thundered beneath my ribs as the claws continued to form, and I finally understood that whatever was happening to me had already begun.