I am archiving this final log from a secure server in my home office. By the time this data uploads, the transition will be irreversible. In the adjacent room, my nine-year-old son, Ethan, is sleeping, finally displaying the standard physiological metrics of a healthy child for the first time in his life. I, however, am experiencing a rapid and profound decline in my own core temperature. I want to be clear: I am not a victim. I am a volunteer. I have executed a transfer of liability to prevent a permanent metaphysical loss that the authorities are not equipped to understand.
I am a clinical specialist dealing in verifiable data. When Ethan revived after a flatline event at birth, a digital monitor recorded a visual anomaly—a shadow—hovering near the crib. It was an attachment. For nine years, the entity known as "Xavier" utilized my son as a vessel. The cost was verifiable and severe: unexplained structural damage to our residence and significant physical trauma to any individual who antagonized the boy. Ethan was merely the vessel; the entity was the operator. The entity stated the terms explicitly during a fugue state: "He fills the empty space. If he leaves, the vessel collapses."
The ledger I recovered from his room outlined a singular solution: a biological exchange requiring a host of the same genetic lineage. I had to choose: allow the impending state intervention to cause my son’s consciousness to dissipate into the void, or invite the entity to occupy my own neural pathways. The choice was made sixty minutes ago. The cold has already reached my chest.
As a medical professional, I maintained a private, encrypted server logging my son's physiological impossibilities for a decade. His resting heart rate was a fixed rhythm so slow it seemed incompatible with sustaining life. His core temperature remained statically low regardless of the ambient heat in the room or his level of physical exertion. Comprehensive metabolic panels suggested he did not metabolize food for energy in a standard way; he seemingly required no caloric intake to function, sustaining himself entirely on the entity’s parasitic link. He did not exhibit autonomic responses to minor injuries, staring blankly at wounds that should have elicited tears. He tracked unseen motion with ocular movements that defied neurological mapping, his gaze following invisible trajectories with a smooth, mechanical precision. An EEG performed last month showed deep sleep wave patterns while he was fully awake and completing complex mathematics.
The clinical anomalies turned kinetic last week, resulting in a series of severe incidents that I could no longer conceal. A neighbor’s animal demonstrated sustained aggression toward Ethan at the property line. Hours later, the animal was found having suffered catastrophic trauma consistent with extreme pressure, despite the lack of any contact marks or footprints in the area. The pattern repeated days later when a student who confronted Ethan was hospitalized with critical injuries despite being at a significant distance from the boy. The entity was reacting defensively, lashing out with a force that shattered bones without ever making physical contact. The community began to notice the pattern, and civil complaints were filed against our household.
The situation reached a critical threshold three days ago. During a domestic dispute, an unseen impact propelled an object across the room, causing a significant injury to my shoulder. Ethan observed the event with zero emotional affect; his heart rate did not fluctuate. That evening, I located a hidden ledger in his closet containing charcoal sketches of a formless shape labeled "Xavier." The captions were written in a dialect my son has never encountered in any curriculum. The entry read: "The vessel is temporary. The connection is fraying. If the link breaks, the vessel empties."
I immediately accessed the relevant medical files for the hospitalized student, confirming the injuries matched the kinetic pattern of the animal incident—trauma consistent with immense compression forces. I confronted Ethan immediately. The ambient room temperature dropped until the air in the room felt heavy and frigid. He spoke in a resonance far below his natural register, stating that the entity required a permanent home and that evicting it would destroy the host.
Yesterday, the school dismissed Ethan permanently following another unexplained incident involving a faculty member who required hospitalization. Social Services scheduled a transfer of custody, citing the environment as restrictive. The documentation confirmed my worst fear: the state views this as a behavioral case. They would remove him from the controlled environment I had established. The ledger confirmed that removing him from this setting would trigger a total collapse of his consciousness. The entity was preparing to consume the remaining aspects of Ethan’s personality to survive the separation.
I analyzed the ledger’s "Transference Protocol." The entity could not be dismissed, only relocated to a willing host of the same genetic lineage. I initiated the protocol this evening. I secured the residence to ensure no interruptions during the delicate process.
I sat across from my son and verbally offered the exchange, inviting the weight and the cold into myself. The room temperature plummeted until the windows frosted over. I felt a distinct pressure in my chest, followed by the sensation of an immense, ancient weight settling behind my eyes.
It is done. I checked his vitals five minutes ago: his heart rate and temperature are within normal human ranges. He is warm. He is real. I, however, am changing. The room smells of ozone. My cognitive functions are slowing, and my thoughts feel crowded.
My reflection shows a visible fading of iris pigmentation. The authorities will arrive soon to facilitate the custody transfer. They will find a healthy boy and a mother who appears catatonic or unstable. This is the only outcome where he survives. When I wake up tomorrow, I will be the container.
