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"Stay inside."
Neither of us argues. He reaches the front porch just as every motion detector around the cottage lights up in rapid succession. Not one. All of them. The security monitors erupt with static before snapping back online.
Nothing. Then—
Camera Three catches movement. Not a person. Not an animal. A distortion. The heat shimmer. Except the temperature outside has dropped below fifty degrees.
"It's circling."
I enlarge the image. The distortion doesn't move in a straight line. It glides. Changing direction without slowing. Ignoring fences. Ignoring trees. Ignoring physics.
"It's learning the perimeter," I whisper.
"No."
Rhett's voice comes through the open doorway.
"It's looking for us."
The pressure begins almost immediately. That strange heaviness inside my ears. The sensation of standing beneath deep water.
The lights dim. Every bulb in the cottage pulses once. Twice. My laptop screen flickers.
I immediately begin recording everything. Time stamps. Electrical fluctuations. Camera angles. If this thing changes digital evidence afterward, I want a copy before it has the chance.
"Carys."
Sayer hasn't moved. His eyes remain fixed on something I can't see.
"It's not walking."
I blink.
"What?"
"It just… is."
The sentence sends a chill through me. Because the cameras agree. One frame it's twenty yards away. The next it's 15. No transition. No footsteps. No acceleration. Just absence followed by presence.
The front porch groans. Rhett slowly backs toward the doorway.
"Lock it."
"I'm not leaving you out there."
"Lock."
His tone leaves no room for discussion. I do it. The deadbolt clicks. He remains outside.
Watching. Waiting.
The distortion finally becomes visible to me. Not clearly. Never clearly. Its outline keeps changing. Sometimes tall. Sometimes bent. Sometimes almost human. Then wrong again.
It reminds me of old videotape tracking. A picture trying to exist on damaged film. The creature stops moving. Directly across the yard. Facing the house. Facing us.
Sayer gasps.
"It knows."
