Mara Voss sat at the table, her wiry frame hunched over a pile of bullets, sorting them with practiced hands; silver for werewolves, iron for spirits, salt-packed for demons.
Elias, six months old, nestled in a sling against her chest, his dark hair a soft tuft peeking out, his breaths warm and steady.
She adjusted the sling with a gentle tug, her sharp eyes flicking down to him as she worked.
"Stay still, little man," she murmured, her voice low and rough, softened by a mother's warmth.
"Mama's got to get these ready before your dad drags in more trouble."
The door creaked open, a gust of cold air sweeping in as Daniel stepped through, his boots caked with mud, a fresh cut above his left eyebrow trickling blood.
He carried a machete, its blade dulled with use, and dropped it onto the table with a heavy thud, making the lantern flicker.
"Damn ghoul nest," he growled, wiping his brow and smearing the blood.
"I thought I'd be back before dark, but those bastards were dug in deep."
Mara's head snapped up, her gaze narrowing at the cut. "You're bleeding again, Daniel," she said, her tone sharp but laced with worry.
"I told you to take me along this time. You're too stubborn for your own good."
Daniel kicked the door shut, shaking off his jacket and hanging it on a nail by the wall.
"Someone's gotta stay with him," he said, nodding at Elias as he sank into a chair across from her.
He winced, rolling his shoulder, then leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Besides, you're better at this—" he gestured vaguely at the bullets, "—than I am. I'd just make a mess of it."
Mara snorted, sliding another bullet into a clip with a click. "Flattery won't fix that cut, Dan. You're lucky it wasn't worse."
She glanced at Elias, her expression softening as she brushed a finger over his tiny hand, curled against her shirt. "He's been good tonight. Barely a peep. Do you think he knows you're out there stirring up trouble?"
Daniel chuckled, the sound rough but warm, and reached across the table. "C'mere, kid. Let's give your ma a break."
He held out his hands, and Mara carefully lifted Elias from the sling, passing him over with a reluctant sigh.
"Careful," she warned, her voice dropping. "He's half-asleep. Don't go waking him up with your loud mouth."
"I'm not that loud," Daniel grumbled, but his tone softened as he settled Elias against his chest, one broad hand cradling the baby's back.
Elias stirred, his dark eyes blinking open, fixing on Daniel with a quiet intensity. "Hey there, little man," Daniel said, his voice a low rumble.
"You keeping your ma company while I'm out there getting chewed up?"
Elias's tiny fist gripped Daniel's flannel, and he let out a small coo, his gaze shifting to the rifle by the door, then back to his father. Mara watched, her hands pausing over the bullets, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"He's got that look again," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Like he's listening to every word we say."
Daniel tilted his head, peering down at Elias, his brow furrowing slightly. "You think so?"
He bounced him gently, the motion instinctive. "He's six months, Mara. All he knows is you're warm and I'm the one who smells like dirt."
He paused, his grin fading as Elias's stare held steady—too steady for a baby. "But… yeah. Maybe he's taking it all in."
Mara set the clip down, wiping her hands on her jeans, her sharp eyes flicking between her husband and son.
"He's sturdy, Dan," she said, her voice quieter now, almost reverent. "Hardly cries, he grips like he's trying to hold a blade already. You think he knows what we do? What we're up against?"
Daniel leaned back, Elias settling against him, the baby's eyes half-closing again. "Knows?" he echoed, shaking his head.
"He's a baby, not a hunter—yet." He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Though I wouldn't put it past him. Raised on salt and iron—he'll be one of us before we know it."
Mara didn't smile back. She reached for a rag, tossing it across the table. "Clean that cut before it festers," she said, her tone brisk but heavy with unspoken worry. "I'm not losing you to some ghoul's scratch. Elias needs his pa."
Daniel caught the rag, pressing it to his brow with a grunt. "I'm fine, Mara. Takes more than a ghoul to put me down."
He looked at Elias, his expression softening, a rare vulnerability breaking through his gruff exterior. "He needs both of us. And I'm not going anywhere."
The wind outside picked up, a low howl that made the salt lines shiver, but nothing crossed.
Mara stood, stepping around the table to Daniel's side, her hand resting on his shoulder as she looked down at Elias, who now was dozing against his father's chest.
"He's our light, Dan," she whispered, her voice cracking just enough to betray the weight she carried. "In all this dark… he's what keeps me going."
Daniel reached up, covering her hand with his, his grip firm but gentle. "Mine too," he said, his voice barely above a murmur.
"We'll keep him safe, Mara. Whatever it takes."
Elias slept on, unaware of the power sleeping within him—a gift from a past life on Earth, waiting to stir.
For now, he was just their son, cradled in the fragile bond of a family forged in salt and shadow, their voices a quiet shield against the night.