The Kansas wind blew across the open fields, striking the Voss farmstead and rattling the barn doors. Inside, under the light of a kerosene lantern, Elias worked a silver blade along a whetstone, his strokes slow and precise.
The knife had been a gift from Daniel last year, his first real weapon. Although he had not yet used it, he treated it carefully as if his life might one day depend on it.
The air inside carried the smells of hay, oil, and old blood, remnants of the wendigo that his father had killed two nights ago. Now eleven, Elias had helped clean up by scrubbing away the stains while Daniel salted the remains. He had not been allowed on the hunt, but he had seen the body afterward, watching how its blackened claws remained curled even in death.
Elias exhaled and tightened his grip on the blade as his mother's voice cut through the wind.
"Elias! Supper's ready! And put that knife down before you hurt yourself," she called.
A small smile appeared on his lips. His mother worried for him, yet she never stopped him from doing what he needed. He sheathed the knife at his belt and stepped out into the yard. Salt lines shimmered under the moonlight, freshly laid that morning. Elias had poured them himself, following his father's instructions, to protect against what might lurk in the dark.
That night, the dark felt heavier, as if something out there was watching.
Inside the warm kitchen, the scent of venison stew filled the air. Daniel sat hunched over his old hunter's journal, flipping through brittle pages, while Mara ladled steaming portions into their bowls.
"Sharpening that thing again?" Daniel asked without looking up. "You'll wear it down before you even use it."
Elias slid into his seat and shrugged. "Better sharp than dead."
Mara ruffled his hair as she passed. "You're growing too fast." Her voice carried pride and worry in equal measure. She saw what Daniel saw in the way Elias was changing.
The meal went on as usual until Daniel suddenly paused. His finger froze on an old entry.
"Huh," he said, one syllable, flat and measured. Elias noticed how his father's shoulders tensed.
Mara looked up. "What is it?"
Daniel did not answer immediately. He turned the journal so that they could see a rough sketch of a symbol: a claw mark formed by three slashes cutting through a faded circle.
"Old note from '84," he said in a measured tone. "It describes a hunt near Lawrence. Something dark was stirring, and the hunt was cut short. But now there are signs again. Sulfur in the wind, cattle torn up. And this mark is the same as the one from that ghost job in '92."
Mara's spoon tapped softly against her bowl as her eyes grew serious. "The shack off Route 40, and Elias' first hunt. That mark was scratched into the door. Do you think they are connected?"
Daniel nodded and said, "They might be. Our Topeka contact says there is talk of something restless out there, and it is moving again. It could be linked to what we encountered back then." He tapped the sketch as if punctuating his words.
Elias leaned in and stared at the symbol. He did not understand its meaning, but something about it nagged at him.
"Where?" Mara asked, her voice steady but edged with concern.
Daniel exhaled through his nose. "Topeka." He paused before adding "And near Lawrence."
The words sent a chill through Elias.
Elias felt the weight of the words. "Lawrence. Here," he murmured, feeling the spoon in his hand become unexpectedly heavy.
Mara's expression darkened. "You think it is them?"
Daniel hesitated. That silence said enough.
They did not need to name them. Something from the past, something unfinished was coming.
Elias remained silent, gripping his spoon as the conversation shifted to other hunts, other symbols, the smell of sulfur, and the memory of dead cattle. But his mind stayed fixed on that page. The symbol was burned into his memory.
Later, by the hearth, Daniel handed him a scrap of paper with the sigil drawn on it. "See this? If you ever find it, do not be a hero. Run."
Elias studied the paper and swallowed hard. "Why?"
Daniel met his gaze. For a moment, the warmth in his eyes was replaced by something harder. "Because demons are not just monsters. They twist you and get inside you. Salt and iron will hurt them, but you will need more than that to end them." Elias nodded and memorized the claw mark.
"Exorcizamus te?" he ventured in a steady voice.
Daniel grinned and ruffled his hair. "That is right. Say it like you mean it, and they will be gone."
Mara stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. "He is too young for this, Dan."
Daniel did not look away from Elias. "He is a Voss. He must be ready."
That night, Elias lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The wind howled outside, shaking the shutters. The knife under his pillow felt heavier than before. His fingers traced the paper with the sigil. His father had thought he should run, but a feeling in his gut told him he would not have a choice.
Something out there had unfinished business with their family, and it was growing closer.