The host

The room was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards beneath Nate's pacing feet. He couldn't sleep. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion, frustration, and the lingering echoes of Henry's theories.

Sitting on his bed, Nate rubbed his temples, trying to shut out the nagging feeling that something was... off. It wasn't just the powers, the growing unease in his chest, or the strange energy Henry mentioned—it was something deeper, something alive.

As his eyelids grew heavy, a faint sound pulled him from the edge of sleep.

"Nate..."

His head snapped up. The voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried a strange resonance that sent chills down his spine.

"Who's there?" Nate asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Silence.

He shook his head, laughing nervously. "Great. Now I'm hearing things."

"Nate..." The voice came again, louder this time, reverberating in his skull.

He stumbled back, clutching his head. "Stop it!"

But the voice didn't stop.

"You can hear me now, can't you?" it said, calm yet commanding.

Nate froze. It wasn't coming from outside—it was inside his head.

"What the hell is this? Who are you?" Nate demanded, his voice echoing in the empty room.

A dark chuckle filled his mind. "I've been with you for a long time, Nate. You just didn't know it yet."

His breathing quickened. "What do you mean? With me? Since when?"

"Since before you could even breathe. I've been waiting, watching. And now... you're finally ready."

"Ready for what?" Nate shouted, his voice breaking.

The voice didn't answer immediately. Instead, Nate felt a strange pull—a compulsion to move. His feet carried him across the room, almost involuntarily, until he stood before the full-length mirror by the corner.

He stared at his reflection, his heart pounding. For a moment, everything seemed normal. But then, the edges of his reflection began to darken, like ink bleeding into water.

The image shifted. His reflection faded, replaced by a shadowy figure with glowing, coal-like eyes.

"To meet me," the voice said, now emanating from the figure in the mirror.

Nate stumbled back, his chest tightening. "What... what are you?"

The shadow tilted its head, a smirk curling across its indistinct features. "I am part of you, Nate. I've always been. And now, you're finally strong enough to see me."

"This can't be real," Nate whispered, shaking his head.

"It is real," the figure replied. "I've been asleep for so long, buried deep within you. But your anger, your pain... it woke me."

"My anger? At what?"

"Your father," the shadow said simply. "You feel it, don't you? That searing rage, the frustration. It isn't just yours, Nate. It's mine too. And together, we are unstoppable."

Nate clenched his fists, his fear mingling with defiance. "I'm not unstoppable. I'm just... me. And I don't want any part of this."

The shadow's smirk deepened. "You don't have a choice, Nate. I am bound to you, just as you are bound to me. The sooner you accept it, the stronger we'll become."

The shadow began to dissolve, retreating into the mirror until Nate's reflection reappeared, pale and shaken.

He stumbled back onto his bed, his heart racing. The room was quiet again, but the weight of what had just happened lingered.

For the first time, Nate realized that whatever was inside him wasn't just a force or a power—it was alive. And it had plans for him.