The morning light spilled through Nate's bedroom window, but it did little to shake the unsettling encounter from the night before. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the mirror. It reflected only his pale face now, but the memory of the shadowy figure lingered.
He hadn't slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the voice whispering fragments of thoughts, unfinished and cryptic.
"Nate, breakfast!" his mother called from downstairs.
He didn't answer. His thoughts were a mess, and his chest felt heavy with questions. Was he going crazy? Or worse—was everything real?
As he hesitated, the voice returned, faint but clear.
"You can't ignore me forever, Nate."
His head shot up. "I thought you left."
"I'm always here," it replied, a tinge of amusement in its tone. "You're never alone now."
Nate clenched his fists. "Why me? Why are you in my head?"
The voice was quiet for a moment, as though considering the question. "Because you're strong. Stronger than you know. Stronger than anyone else could ever be. I've been waiting for someone like you for centuries."
"Centuries? What are you talking about?"
"Patience," the voice said. "You'll understand everything in time. For now, let's just say you and I... we're meant to be."
"Meant to be?" Nate muttered, shaking his head. "I didn't ask for this."
The voice chuckled. "No one ever does."
---
Nate finally made his way downstairs, his mind still swirling. His mother greeted him with a warm smile, but the bags under her eyes betrayed her concern.
"Did you sleep at all?" she asked, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast on the table.
"Yeah," Nate lied, picking at the food.
She sat down across from him, studying his face. "You've been... distant lately. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, Mom. I'm fine," he said quickly, avoiding her gaze.
Before she could press further, the front door creaked open, and Uncle Henry walked in, a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
"Morning, everyone," Henry said cheerfully.
Nate looked up, relieved for the distraction. "Hey, Uncle Hen."
Henry's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Nate. "You look like you've seen a ghost, kid. Something on your mind?"
Nate hesitated, then glanced at his mother. "Can we talk... privately?"
His mother frowned but nodded. "I'll give you two some space."
---
In the garage, Henry set his bag down and crossed his arms. "Alright, spill. What's going on?"
Nate leaned against the workbench, his voice low. "I'm... hearing things. A voice. And last night, I saw something in the mirror."
Henry's expression shifted from concern to quiet understanding. "The mirror? What did you see?"
"It was... me, but not me. A shadow or something. It talked to me," Nate said, his voice trembling slightly.
Henry rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed. "That's... unusual, even for what we've been dealing with. Did it say anything specific?"
Nate hesitated. "It said it's been with me for a long time. That I woke it up."
Henry's jaw tightened. "Nate, I think we need to run more tests. Whatever's happening to you—it's bigger than I thought."
Nate stared at him, panic rising in his chest. "You think I'm losing my mind?"
"No," Henry said firmly. "I think something is trying to connect with you. And we need to figure out why."
---
Later that day, Nate sat alone in his room, staring at the mirror. He could feel it—like a presence just beneath the surface, waiting.
"Alright," he said aloud, his voice shaking. "If you're there, show yourself."
The mirror rippled like water, and the shadowy figure emerged once more, its glowing eyes fixed on him.
"You're starting to understand, aren't you?" it said.
"Understand what?" Nate demanded.
"That you're not ordinary. That you're more than you think. And with me, you'll become unstoppable."
Nate's fists clenched. "I don't want to become anything. I just want to live my life."
The shadow laughed, a deep, hollow sound. "Your life isn't yours anymore, Nate. It hasn't been since the day I chose you."
As the figure dissolved back into the mirror, Nate sat back, his heart pounding. He didn't know what he was becoming—but he could feel it. Something inside him was changing. And it terrified him.