The manor was strangely quiet. The younger cousins had already left, their laughter fading into memory, while the older ones were still expected to arrive. For once, the halls of the grand house were still, carrying only the faint creak of floorboards and the occasional whisper of servants preparing for the next wave of guests.
Zane lay in his crib, small fingers curling and uncurling as he played with a wooden block. His dark eyes gleamed, curious and alive, following every flicker of candlelight that stretched across the room.
Then—something happened.
When Zane raised his hand, the shadows raised theirs. Perfectly mirrored, as if the darkness itself had been waiting for his command. He giggled, clapping his tiny hands. The shadows clapped back, soundless but undeniable.
He leaned forward and lifted his toy block. The shadows bent and mimicked him, invisible shapes carrying their own block of pure nothingness. He laughed again, the sound bright and pure against the unnatural display.
It was a secret game, a silent dance between boy and dark. For Zane, it was fun. For the world, it was impossible.
The door creaked open.
His parents stepped inside, smiling at the sight of their son’s joy. And at that instant, the shadows froze. They snapped back into place where they belonged, clinging once more to the furniture, the toys, the very walls.
But for the faintest heartbeat—just before order returned—an impossible truth revealed itself: nothing in the room had shadows. The chairs, the toys, even Zane’s crib... all stood in flat, unnatural light, abandoned by the darkness that had gone to play with their child.
His parents didn’t notice. To them, their son was simply giggling at the air, reaching out as though playing with invisible friends. They exchanged a knowing smile, charmed by his imagination.
His mother leaned closer, scooping him into her arms.
"Come, little one," she cooed softly. "It’s time to meet your older cousins."
And the shadows, quiet and obedient once more, sank back into the walls—waiting.