Asha's palms hammered against the locked door, a frantic, rhythmic thud that echoed the racing of her heart.
Behind her, the temperature in the corridor plummeted with every passing second.
The air had turned so biting that each breath she exhaled materialized as a ghostly white mist in the dim light.
Then, the sound returned—a rhythmic tick... tick... tick... of claws against the hardwood floor.
Asha risked a glance over her shoulder.
The tiny, fragile Shadow was gone.
In his place was a swelling silhouette, a mass of darkness that seemed to stretch and warp like wet clay.
The sickening sound of snapping bone and reknitting sinew filled the narrow hallway as the creature's frame elongated.
It was no longer a pet; it was a predator, moving with a calculated, mechanical grace.
Wherever the crimson glow of its eyes touched the floor, a thin, crystalline film of frost crept across the wood.
As it drew closer, the air in Asha's lungs felt as heavy as stone.
Suddenly, the door groaned, and the bolt slid upward.
Priya's face appeared through the gap, her eyes heavy with sleep—until she saw the sheer terror etched into Asha's features.
"Asha? What happened, beta? Why are you trembling like this?"
Priya asked, grasping Asha's ice-cold arms.
From within the shadows of the room, Ravi's sleep-thickened voice drifted out.
"Priya... what is it? What is Asha saying this early in the morning? What's going on?"
Ravi fumbled for his glasses in the dark and moved toward the doorway.
Asha's tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth.
With a shaking finger, she pointed back into the corridor where, moments ago, the monster had stood.
But there was nothing.
Only a deep, bone-chilling silence remained.
No footsteps, no looming shadow, no crimson glare.
Priya followed Asha's gaze into the empty hallway, then looked back at her daughter, her brow furrowed with confusion.
"There's no one there, Asha... why are you so frightened?"
Just then, a sound reached Asha's ears—a sound so faint, so thin, it was like a needle pricking the silence.
It was a low, guttural whisper, coming from right beside her feet.
Asha's breath hitched, lodging painfully in her throat.
Slowly, agonizingly, she lowered her gaze.
There, right beside her feet, sat the tiny 'Shadow.'
He was back to his one-foot stature, yet his presence felt as crushing as a massive boulder.
Beads of sweat broke out on Asha's forehead, as cold as shards of ice.
The air around her suddenly grew dense and frigid, as if she had been entombed within a deep, lightless cavern.
The 'frigidity' radiating from the small creature began to crawl up from the floor, seeping into her calves.
She refused to meet Shadow's eyes, but her body had already turned to stone.
The moment Shadow tilted his head and emitted a sound—not a bark, but a dry rasp like two pieces of dead wood grinding together—Asha's composure shattered.
A primal, electric jolt of terror shot through her.
She lunged backward, her body slamming with full force against the heavy oak door of the bedroom.
The resounding thud tore ruthlessly through the silence of the room.
Priya grabbed Asha's shoulders in a panic.
Under her touch, Asha's frame felt as cold and rigid as a corpse.
"Asha! What happened? Why did you jump like that?"
Priya's voice was thick with mounting dread.
From behind, Ravi switched on his flashlight, the beam cutting through the dark to land squarely on Shadow.
The creature gave a single, innocent wag of its tail.
"Asha, why are you so terrified? It's just Shadow," Ravi said, looking toward his wife.
Though a trace of unexplained fear lingered in his own voice.
"Look at him, the poor thing isn't even moving."
"Why are you running from him as if you've seen a ghost?"
Asha, drawing long, ragged breaths, looked toward her father.
And then back at the tiny pup, which looked perfectly normal in the glare of the flashlight.
Asha's pupils remained blown wide, fixed in a stare of pure dread.
She pointed a trembling finger at the tiny creature that sat on the floor, draped in a cloak of false innocence.
"Papa... Mummy..."
Asha's voice cracked like a dry twig underfoot.
"This... this isn't our Shadow. It's something else. It's dangerous."
Priya stepped forward, pressing her palm against Asha's forehead as if measuring a fever.
A consoling smile brushed her lips—a look that held more exhaustion than belief.
"Asha, four nights without sleep are weighing heavy on your eyes, beta."
"Fatigue makes the mind craft shadows where there are none."
"Just look at him—our tiny, helpless Shadow."
"He's huddled by your feet, probably more scared than you are."
"No, Mummy!" Asha nearly choked on the words.
"His body... it's too cold. Like... like a frozen corpse!"
Ravi and Priya exchanged a knowing look and shared a soft, dismissive chuckle.
The way parents do at a child's irrational nightmare.
"Beta, you're likely still caught in the grip of that dream you were having by the window."
Ravi said, his tone softening with paternal warmth.
Before Asha could utter another warning, Ravi leaned down.
With gentle hands, he scooped the tiny pup into his palms.
Asha's breath hitched in her chest.
She watched, paralyzed, as her father pulled the creature close to his chest.
Cradling it against his heart.
"Look at him," Ravi murmured, patting the creature in his arms with a look of pure relief.
"Cold? Where? He's as warm and soft as he's always been."
"It's your own hands that are like ice, Asha; that's why you felt a chill."
Asha watched as the creature tilted its head and licked Ravi's chin.
But in that fleeting moment, as the flashlight's beam caught the movement at a sharp angle, Asha saw it:
The tongue wasn't pink.
It was a bruised, abyssal black, textured like coarse, sharpened stone.
Ravi felt nothing but the comfort of a returned pet.
But Asha saw the predator's mask holding firm, waiting for the light to fade.
To be continue...