The house was thick with silence, the kind that follows the storm has passed but precedes the next one to blow in. Edward stood in the shadowy light of the kitchen, every muscle pulled taut with tension. When the Shadow Man arrived, it was unceremonious—no big show, no portentous waiting. The same sharp suit, the same shining silver eyes, and an air now that was no longer quite that of a hunter stalking prey but that of a reluctant partner at a long-overdue meeting.
"We need to talk," the Shadow Man muttered gently, sitting down opposite Edward. His voice was level, controlled—almost spent.
Edward regarded him, wariness winking behind his pressed jaw. "About the renovations?
The Shadow Man slowly nodded. "Yes. About what's to happen next. About what I intend to do."
Edward's hand clung to the table edge. "You say that every time, but I never get to really hear. What are you planning, precisely?"
"Human biology is… limited," The Shadow Man stated without hesitation. "Muscle growth, strength, endurance—they all have limits. Your body's design wasn't meant for extremes."
Edward gasped heavily. "Boundaries? You think I don't know that? Day by day, I feel them. The weakness. The fatigue. The pain."
"And that's why this has to happen," the Shadow Man said. "You're working against the limits your cells can hold. Muscle fibers tear, nerves spark wildly, blood vessels buckle. Your body screams for rest, recovery—a balance it won't trade."
Edward's eyes narrowed. "So what? You want to override it? Keep my body going?"
The Shadow Man leaned forward, fingers interlaced. "Not override. Modify. Improve. The virus is not a parasite. It's a rewrite—an evolution."
Edward's heart throbbed painfully. "Rewrite? Evolution? You make it sound so clinical. What does that even mean for me?"
The Shadow Man's lips curled, a virtual smirk. "It means your muscles won't just get stronger; they'll heal faster, resist fatigue longer. Your connective tissues will thicken, nerves function better. Oxygenation will be improved. You will become… better than human."
Edward's mind reeled, half hope, half fear. "And the cost?
There was a silence. A brief flicker in the Shadow Man's eyes, as though weighing whether or not to reveal too much.
"Sacrifice," he replied after a pause. "Your body will adapt. Systems you never think about—circulatory, nervous, metabolic—they will be strained in other ways. You'll feel it. Pain, confusion, alien sensations. Your body will play tricks on you before it gets used to it."
Edward dry-swallowed. "Sounds like torture.".
Maybe," the Shadow Man conceded. "But denial is worse. Without change, your body decays. The virus eats from within, gradually unspools you."
Edward's tone fell, almost resentful. "You sound like you're saying I have no choice.
The Shadow Man's gaze softened for a fraction of a moment—an unspoken battle raging behind those silver eyes. I don't want this either, he thought. I'm bound to this leech, forced to live off a host who despises me. I've kept him alive because I had to. Now… maybe because I want to.
"I know your fear," the Shadow Man said aloud, voice softer now. "This union wasn't something either of us chose. But it's what we have."
Edward's fists clenched tighter. "So, what next? You start to rip me apart?"
"No." The Shadow Man shook his head slowly. "I have no desire to attempt to take you over. It's a recalibration, not a takeover. You will still be you. But stronger. More skilled."
Edward's eyes pierced the silver depths before him. "And if I say no?"
The Shadow Man's smile widened, but it was free of cruelty—only reluctant tolerance. "Then you weaken. You suffer. You die."
Edward exhaled, working against the cresting wave of helplessness. I have to fight. I have to maintain control.
"Let me ask you something," Edward said, voice strong but wary. "Why bother? Why help me at all? I don't trust you."
The Shadow Man's eyes blazed inward, revealing to me a hidden truth. I care because he is the sole life I have left holding me tethered to existence. Without him, I am nothing. I do not wish to witness him suffering—but most of all, I want to guard him. Even though I detest the bonds binding us together.
"I'm tied to you," the Shadow Man spoke softly. "Our fates bound. I keep you alive. You hide me. I'm not your enemy. Not anymore."
Edward's breathing quickened. For a moment, the space between them was less battlefield, more strained peace.
"Fine," Edward said finally, his voice firm. "But on my terms. We do this together. No surprises."
The Shadow Man nodded his head, a rare show of deference. "Agreed. But keep in mind this—time's not on our side."
Edward nodded, resolve hardening. "Then let us begin."
The Shadow Man stood, darkness converging at the foot of his feet. As he melted into the dim corners of the room, his thoughts returned to the passing host—the only thread to his survival, and maybe, just maybe, the only reason he still clung to what was left of his degrading conscience.