The air suddenly shifts, the temperature plummeting as a low wail echoes through the house, and the ghost appears: a flickering woman in a tattered dress, her face half-burned, her eyes hollow and filled with rage.
Elias's breath catches in his throat, his small frame trembling as her gaze sweeps the room, her scream carrying a warning, a sound that sends a shiver down his spine.
Daniel steps forward, swinging the iron poker through her form, making her flicker and dissipate momentarily, his movements swift and practiced, a skill Elias has seen him hone in the farmhouse.
"Burn it, Mara!" Daniel shouts, his voice a mix of command and urgency, his focus on the task at hand.
Mara lights a match, her movements swift, and drops it onto the photograph, the flames catching quickly, the charred paper curling as the fire consumes it.
The ghost screams, her form distorting as she lunges toward Mara, but the flames finish their work, and she vanishes in a burst of light, her scream fading into silence, leaving the room eerily quiet.
The room warms slightly, the oppressive chill lifting, and the air feels lighter, the immediate threat gone.
Daniel exhales, lowering the poker, while Mara stands, brushing ash from her hands, her expression softening as she sees Elias's wide-eyed stare.
"You did good, staying quiet," she says, kneeling to his level, her voice warm with pride. "Ghosts are tied to something, usually what killed them. Research helps us identify it. That's why we listen to other hunters."
Elias nods, his small voice barely a whisper, a question he's asked before in the safety of the farmhouse: "Like who?"
Mara hesitates, then says, "Like a friend named Bobby. He knows a lot about this stuff."
Her brief mention of Bobby is a reference to the hunter network, but it makes an impression on Elias, a name he will remember years later that connects him to the wider world of hunters beyond Lawrence.
Daniel, wiping sweat from his brow, pulls a shotgun from his bag and begins packing salt rounds, his movements deliberate, a routine he's taught Elias to observe at home.
He glances at Elias, his tone gruff but not unkind, a tone Elias has heard countless times in the farmhouse.
"Come here, kid. I'll show you something." Elias steps forward hesitantly, still clutching the salt pouch, and watches as Daniel demonstrates how to pack the rounds, a practical lesson that builds on the basics he's learned at home.
"A hunter named John taught me this trick: It keeps the salt tight so it doesn't spill," Daniel says, his voice carrying a rare note of respect, but he adds, almost to himself, "John's been tracking some bad things around here. He says Lawrence has a history."
Elias's small eyes widen with curiosity, his mind buzzing with the name John, a hunter who seems larger than life, a name he's heard whispered in the farmhouse late at night, but the mention of "bad things" makes him wonder about the dangers his parents face, a curiosity that will grow as he becomes a hunter himself.
As they pack up to leave, Elias notices a small carving on the doorframe : a circle with a cross and three dots, a symbol that seems strange and unfamiliar.
Mara sees it too, her expression darkening for a brief moment and she mutters to Daniel, her voice low so Elias can barely hear, "That's a demon sigil. I've seen it before back in '84. We need to be careful."
Daniel grunts, his hand tightening on the shotgun, but he doesn't respond, his silence heavier than words, a silence that hints at a past danger, a mystery that Elias doesn't understand but feels in the tension of his parents' movements.
Elias does not know what a demon sigil means, but the way his parents tense and the sudden drop in temperature makes his heart race.
He feels fear, a fear that suggests there is a danger he does not yet understand.