Five-year-old Elias Voss sat up in bed, his small frame trembling, his blanket pulled to his chin as tears streaked his face.
His dark eyes were wide with fear, darting to the window with every gust of wind, and his wooden toy knife was clutched tight in his small hands, the blade pressed against his chest.
He'd woken from a nightmare—a monster with black eyes breaking through the salt line, reaching for him with claws—and his small voice broke the silence, a shaky whisper. "Mama?"
Mara appeared in the doorway, her wiry frame silhouetted by the lantern light from the hall, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her sharp eyes softening as she saw his tears. She crossed the room in quick strides, sitting on the edge of his bed, her hand resting on his forehead, brushing back his damp hair. "I'm here, little man," she said, her voice low and soothing, though a flicker of worry creased her brow.
"What's wrong? Bad dream?" Elias nodded, his lip trembling, his small hands gripping the toy knife tighter as he leaned into her touch.
"I dreamed a monster got in, Mama," he whispered, his voice breaking, tears spilling down his cheeks. "It had black eyes… it broke the salt… it was gonna get me."
Mara's throat tightened, and she pulled him into her arms, her hands steady against his trembling frame, her sharp eyes closing for a moment as she held him close.
"No monster's getting past me, Elias," she said, her voice fierce, a hunter's promise, though it cracked with emotion. "Not ever. You're safe here, I swear it."
Elias buried his face in her shoulder, his small hands clutching her shirt, his voice muffled. "I'm scared, Mama," he whispered, his tears soaking into her flannel. "What if it comes back?"
Mara pulled back, cupping his face in her hands, her thumbs wiping his tears, her sharp eyes searching his. "It won't," she said, her voice steady now, a mother's certainty.
"But I'll teach you something—a prayer, to keep you safe. My mother taught it to me when I was little, and it always worked. You wanna learn it?"
Elias nodded quickly, his small chest hitching with a sob, his dark eyes wide with hope. "Yes, Mama," he said, his voice small but eager, sitting up straighter in her arms.
Mara smiled, a small, tired curve of her lips, and took his small hands in hers, her voice dropping to a low, rhythmic chant, the words heavy in the flickering light. "Angels watch, and salt holds tight, keeping us safe through the night," she said, her tone steady, a quiet power in the simple prayer.
"Say it with me, Elias. Angels watch…"Elias sniffed, his small voice shaky but determined, repeating after her. "Angels watch…" he whispered, his brow furrowing as he focused, his small hands gripping hers.
"And Salt holds tight…" "Keeping us safe through the night," Mara finished, her voice soft but firm, squeezing his hands gently.
"Good, little man. Again—together this time." They chanted together, their voices blending in the quiet room, the storm outside a distant rumble. "Angels watch, and salt holds tight, keeping us safe through the night," Elias said, his voice steadier now, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked up at her, his tears drying.
Mara smiled back, her sharp eyes crinkling with pride, and kissed his forehead, her lips warm against his skin. "That's my boy," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, pulling him into another hug.
"You're safe, Elias. I've got you."Elias hugged her back, his small arms wrapping around her neck, the toy knife falling to the bed as he relaxed in her arms.
His small voice whispering the prayer again as he drifted back to sleep, "Angels watch, and salt holds tight…" Mara stayed beside him, her hand on his back, her sharp eyes watching the window, and the candle burning steady against the dark.
The storm raged on, but the salt lines held, a fragile barrier for a boy and his secrets.