Page 40 of The Baker’s Shadow

“The real version. Not the story you tell customers.”

I’m quiet for a long moment. Then I start talking. About Dan. About how we met in college. How he was safe. Steady. Everything I thought I wanted after a childhood of chaos. “But it was like sleepwalking,” I say. “Every day the same. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Pretend we were happy. We weren’t unhappy. Just... hollow.”

“You stayed anyway.”

“For three years. I kept thinking it would get better. That I’d wake up one day and feel something.” I stare into my tea. “Then he died of an aggressive cancer… it was sudden and quick.”

“And you felt relieved.”

It’s not a question. But I answer anyway. “Yes. Then I felt guilty about the relief. Then angry at myself for feeling guilty. It’s been a cycle ever since.”

“Until now.”

Malak is quiet. Then he starts talking. About the Hollow. About what it means to be a guardian of a place that most people have forgotten exists.

“I used to have a purpose,” he says. “Keep the barrier strong. Keep the Rot contained. Protect the crossing between worlds.” His voice goes flat. “Then the world changed. People stopped believing. Stopped caring. The Hollow became just a swamp. And I became just a story parents tell to scare children.”

“You forgot what it was like to be seen.”

“Yes.” He looks at me. Really looks. “I forgot what it was like to matter.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

The moment stretches. Neither of us moving. Just existing in the same space. Being seen.

Then I feel it. A flutter. Different from the pulse. Stronger.

I gasp. My hand flies to my stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Malak is on his feet instantly.

“It moved. Really moved. Not just the pulse. It kicked.”

His hand joins mine on my stomach. Both of us waiting. Watching.

The baby kicks again.

And everything explodes.

The pulse of shadow-magic hits like a shockwave. Every metal object in the kitchen starts vibrating. The coffee mugs crack straight down the middle. The window shatters, glass raining onto the sink. The light bulb overhead bursts in a shower of sparks.

We’re left standing in the dark. My hand and his pressed against my stomach. The baby’s magic still rippling outward in waves.

“That was...” I start.

“Powerful,” Malak finishes. His voice is filled with awe and something else. Fear.

We stand there in the wreckage. In the dark. Connected by a child that’s already capable of destruction.

“This isn’t normal,” I say. “Even for whatever this is. The baby shouldn’t be this strong yet.”

“It’s feeding on both of us. Your humanity. My darkness. It’s accelerating everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” He pulls his hand away. Steps back. “But it’s not safe. For you. For the town. For anyone.”

“Don’t.” I grab his wrist before he can retreat further. “Don’t start pulling away again. We’re past that.”