"Come on, Jake," a girl called out as she sprinted through the cornfield, her half-naked breasts bouncing with each step. Barefoot, she tugged the boy's hand, pulling him through the dry, cracked earth. He pounced on her, landing softly in the dirt as their laughter echoed into the still night.

The earth groaned, a hand thrusting from the soil with a sickening crack, bone splitting through the thick grass, tangled in dirt webs, like a tree suffocating under its weight. The cornfield stretched in every direction, its soil caked in death, the stalks withered and hollow, starved of life.

The cornstalks stood tall but brittle, their leaves shriveled, the cobs long dead. The ground, dry as dust, cracked like it hadn't seen rain in years. In the distance, smoke from burning firewood curled into the air, the faint scent drifting across the field in the cool breeze.

Burnt remnants of life lay scattered in the field—fallen stalks, a deep crater marking the earth's scar. A boy's hand jerked from the dirt, his skull cracked open, horns curling from his flesh, dripping blood. The empty, hollow sockets of his eyes stared out, cold and lifeless.

Above the field, the figure hovered, dark wings beating silently in the air. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, glowing with a fierce, unnatural light. Lightning cracked the sky nearby, and a rumble of thunder followed as Jake and the girl ran for their lives.

The demon's skin was warm, and slick with moisture, like a pie left out in the rain. His muscles were solid, his biceps bulging under the darkened sky. His horns peeled from his skull, blood dripping in thick streams, but the wounds sealed almost as quickly as they opened. In a blink, his wings disappeared, folding into his back like they never existed.

A dark, six-foot figure loomed over the off-duty officer, his gaze fixed on the man. The boy's head tilted slightly, his eyes shifting color—black to deep brown—before fluttering shut. He hid within the cornstalks, but every time the officer's light swept over the field, the boy's eyes flared with a bright, eerie auburn.

The beagle sniffed the ground, following the boy's scent through the dead crops. The officer lit a cigarette, a cloud of smoke drifting over the moonlit field, the sound of wings flapping ominously, like a flock of crows circling in the sky.

The dog's fur was soaked with sweat, its paws sinking into the muddy earth. The officer, his jacket frayed and worn, trudged through the muck. His boots were heavy, his breath sharp in the cold night air.

Jack's jacket was faded, torn at the seams, his jeans worn at the knees. His hands were rough and calloused, a clear mark of someone who worked the fields, not an office desk. He gripped a weathered double-barrel shotgun, the steel blue and the wood handle chipped with age.

His shirt clung to his back, beads of sweat dotting his skin as he scanned the field. The smooth grip of a .45 caliber pistol rested in his other hand, cold against his skin.

The beagle found him—a naked boy, lying among the dead crops. Bruce, the dog, licked the boy's skin, the warmth of his tongue rousing the boy from his unconscious stupor. The demon's hand brushed softly over the pup's fur, feeling its warmth, as the flashlight's beam fell on the boy's body. The light flickered, and the boy shielded his eyes, the dead plants at his waist swaying in the night breeze.

"Who are you, kid? Where are your parents?" Jack asked, his voice low and steady.

The boy's eyes trembled under the harsh light before he slowly lowered his arm.

"William... William James Morningstar. Who are you?" the boy replied, brushing the dead stalks from his body. His brown eyes glowed faintly in the flashlight's beam.

"I'm Officer Jack Hart," the man replied, a subtle exhale of cool air escaping his lips. "Let's get you out of here. Somewhere safe." He shone the flashlight over the boy once more, before guiding him to his feet, dusting off the remnants of the field.

"Here, tie this around your waist." Jack handed the boy his jacket. "You must be freezing out here. It's close to 10 degrees."

William draped the jacket around his waist, his curiosity piqued by the officer. Jack took a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes flickering to the boy.

"Where's your dog from?" William asked as they reached a beat-up white truck.

"His name's Bruce. The best damn dog I've ever had." Jack opened the truck door, letting Bruce jump in first, before sliding in beside him. "What's your last name, William?"

"Morningstar. James is my middle name. My parents were divorced before I was born."

"William James Morningstar, huh? That's a unique name," Jack mused, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. "Where do you live?"

"I've never left town," William muttered, his gaze fixed out the window.

"Well," Jack said, starting the engine, "welcome to Newmark. You're about to take your first road trip. It's a big world out there, kid. Bet you haven't seen much of it."

Jack slammed the truck into gear, its tires screeching against the dirt as he sped down the road, the headlights cutting through the thick, oppressive darkness. His hands were tight on the wheel, his mind racing. His son, Jake, sat beside him, pale and shaking, his eyes wide with fear. The girl in the back was quiet now, her presence unsettling as she looked out the rear window, her gaze flicking back and forth between the field and the dark horizon beyond.

Jake's breath was shallow, his voice barely a whisper. "Dad... something was after us. It wasn't... normal. I swear."

"Jake, calm down," Jack said, his voice sharp, trying to keep it together. "Tell me exactly what happened. What did you see?"

The girl, trembling, leaned forward from the back seat, her voice frantic. "You don't understand! It's no—he's a demon! William's a demon, dad. He's not human!"

Jack's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his grip turning white-knuckled. "What the hell are you talking about?" His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching the girl's wide, terrified eyes. "William? A demon?" He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "You kids on something tonight? Took some bad acid or—"

"No!" the girl cut him off, her voice rising. "He's not human! He has horns! And wings! He—he's not just a guy from town! He—he was in the cornfield! He—" Her voice faltered, fear overtaking her again as she gripped the edge of the seat, glancing over her shoulder. "He's not like us! We need to run, please!"

Jack shot her a sharp look, his brow furrowing. "Drugs or not, that's a hell of an imagination you've got. I don't know what happened out there in that damn cornfield, but I don't have time for stories. You two are both in shock, and it sounds like you've been running on adrenaline too long." Jack took a sigh of disbelief and leaned against his truck while William stared them down from the passenger window.

"I'll see you at home, Jake," Jack said, his voice stern but tight with frustration. "I'm not happy about this. Do you even realize what time it is?"

Jake let out a long, heavy sigh, his eyes flickering toward William for a moment before he looked away, his gaze drifting toward the ground. "Nuh—no," he muttered, barely audible, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

"It's almost midnight!" Jack snapped, throwing his hands up in disbelief. "And you're out here stalking the damn cornfields at this hour. No wonder you're seeing things..."

Jake shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the girl who had been silent until now.

"But it's true, Mr. Hart," she argued, her voice shaky but insistent. "We weren't just messing around. It's real."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he exhaled sharply, frustration boiling over. "You need to get home—right now, Jake," he nearly yelled, his voice rising in anger. "And you," he shot a pointed look at the girl, "you need to go home too. Before I make a call to your father and let him know exactly what you've been up to with my son."

"Yes, Mr. Hart," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she avoided his gaze, staring down at the ground, clearly intimidated by his tone.

Jack shook his head, his jaw clenched. "It's Officer Hart," he corrected her, his words cold and sharp. "Get going, now. Your father is probably worried sick, Jessica. And you too, Jake. I'll talk to you about this later."

Without waiting for another word, Jack turned on his heel, the air between them heavy with tension. He stormed toward his truck, his boots crunching on the dirt as he climbed into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. William, still standing outside, remained rooted to the spot, his eyes drawn to the dark, endless stretch of the cornfield.

"My apologies, Officer Hart," William said, his voice soft, almost apologetic, as he slid his hands down Bruce's sleek, silky coat, his gaze still distant, his mind elsewhere. "I never meant to scare them."

Jack's voice softened a little as he looked back at the boy, noting the calmness in his demeanor despite the strange situation. "No need to apologize, kiddo," Jack muttered, starting the engine. "Let's get you somewhere safe and warm. I have a spare room at my place if you're interested."

William nodded, his lips pressing into a tight, uncertain line. His eyes were glazed over, focused on the road ahead, but his mind seemed far from the present moment.

"I suppose it'll give me time to look you up in the database and figure out where to send you," Jack added, his voice laced with a trace of irritation. He'd had enough of this strange, unnerving night and just wanted some answers.

William nodded again, his attention now fully absorbed by the passing landscape. Jack pulled the truck into motion, its tires crunching on the gravel as they slowly rolled away from the burnt cornfields, the remnants of the fire casting eerie shadows in the dim light.

The road stretched out in front of them, dark and desolate, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional flutter of Bruce's tail against the seat filling the silence. Jack couldn't shake the unsettling feeling gnawing at the back of his mind. There was something about William's calm that seemed off, something that didn't sit right with him. But for now, all he could do was drive and wait for the answers that seemed to be just out of reach.