Four-year-old Elias Voss crouched in the yard, he was barefoot on the dry grass.
His dark hair was messy, sticking to his sweaty forehead.
He wore an old hand-me-down shirt, too big for his small frame, and held a stick in his dirt-covered hands, poking at the weeds with deep focus.
A wooden toy knife—carved by Daniel last Christmas—was tucked into his waistband, bumping against his hip as he moved.
The sun was setting, casting golden light over the yard.
A soft breeze rustled the bushes near the fence.
From the open kitchen window, his mother's voice rang out, warm but firm, cutting through the sound of the radio.
"Elias, don't wander too far! Supper's almost ready!"
"I won't, Mama!" he called back, though he didn't look up.
He jabbed the stick into the dirt, frowning as a small rock rolled loose. "Gotta find the treasure," he muttered—a game he'd made up about hunting for "monster gold," just like his pa always talked about.
Then, something moved.
A fat, hairy spider scuttled out from the weeds, its long legs twitching as it rushed toward the bush.
Elias froze, heart pounding. "No, you don't," he whispered.
He dropped the stick and grabbed a smooth rock nearby, gripping it tight. With a quick, panicked swing, he slammed it down.
A crunch. The spider was gone, now it's just a dark smear in the dirt.
For a moment, Elias just stared, his chest rising and falling fast.
Then, something strange happened—a warmth spread through his fingers, like dipping them in sun-warmed water. His hands tingled, the feeling creeping up his arms like a small spark inside him.
"What…?" he mumbled, glancing around.
His eyes landed on the metal bucket by the steps—Daniel's shell bucket, heavy and dented.
Elias had never been able to lift it before. Still holding the rock, he shuffled over and grabbed the handle, pulling hard.
The bucket scraped an inch across the ground.
Elias gasped, a grin spreading across his face. "I did it!" he whispered.
He tugged again. And It moved another tiny bit… then stopped. After that, the strength faded, and suddenly, it felt heavy again.
Behind him, footsteps crunched on the dirt.
"What're you up to, kid?" Daniel's deep voice broke the quiet.
Elias jumped, letting go of the bucket and kicking the rock into the grass. He turned quickly, forcing a big, innocent grin. "Nothin', Pa! Just… playin'."
Daniel squinted, setting his axe against the porch. "Playing, huh?"
He looked from the bucket to Elias, his sharp hazel eyes thoughtful. "Looks like you moved it a bit. You're getting stronger than I thought."
Elias swallowed, his small hands balling into fists. "I… I guess so."
His stomach twisted. Pa hunted things that weren't normal. And that feeling—it wasn't normal. He took a small step back. "Didn't mean to."
Daniel chuckled, ruffling Elias's hair. "Didn't mean to get strong? That's a new one."
He crouched down, meeting Elias's gaze. "You're a Voss, kid. Strength's in your blood. Don't go hiding it from me, alright?"
Elias nodded quickly, but he didn't meet his father's eyes. "Yessir."
Before Daniel could say more, Mara's voice called from inside.
"Daniel! Elias! Supper's ready—get in here before it gets cold!"
The radio clicked off. The kitchen window slammed shut.
Daniel stood, brushing off his knees, then scooped Elias up in one strong arm. "Come on, troublemaker. Let's not keep your ma waiting. She's meaner than any ghoul when she's hungry."
Elias giggled despite the knot in his chest, clinging to Daniel's shirt as they stepped inside.
At the table, Mara ladled stew into chipped bowls, eyeing them as they sat down. "Took you long enough. What were you two doing out there?"
"Just playing," Daniel said lightly. "Kid's getting strong—He moved that shell bucket a bit."
Mara raised an eyebrow. "That old thing? He's four, Dan, not a linebacker."
She leaned over, brushing Elias's hair from his face. "You okay, little man? You're awfully quiet tonight."
Elias nodded, staring into his bowl. "I'm okay, Mama." His voice was small.
He took a bite of stew, but the warmth of the food wasn't like the warmth he'd felt outside.
That was something else. Something different. And it was his secret now.
Mara sighed, glancing at Daniel. "He's always quiet when you come back from a job," she muttered. "You sure you didn't scare him with one of your stories?"
Daniel snorted. "Didn't say a word about the ghoul, Mara." He paused, looking at Elias again, his eyes filled with quiet concern. "You're not scared, are you, kid?"
Elias shook his head quickly, forcing another smile. "No, Pa."
It was a lie.
Mara sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze Daniel's hand. "He's fine," she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. "Just… let him be a kid, Dan. For a little while longer."
Daniel nodded, his gaze lingering on Elias. "Yeah," he murmured. "A little while longer."
Outside, the sun slipped below the horizon, stretching shadows across the yard.
The smeared spider was forgotten in the weeds.
Elias ate in silence, keeping the memory of that strange warmth locked deep inside. A secret, just for him.
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