Chapter 15: The Lantern Grave

Just as I was picking a spot, a patch of tree shadow suddenly fell over me, making me uneasy. I followed the shadow with my eyes. Behind a tangle of overgrown graves stood a row of willow trees, especially dense—two or three trees tangled together.

The sun shifted, and for a split second, the world seemed to hold its breath. My instincts—those honed on empty highways at midnight—told me something wasn’t right.

I suddenly thought of the address Megan had written: Pinehill County, Silver Creek Bridge, end of Willow Lane. Willow Lane was the mountain road we had just taken—so the end?

The realization hit me like a slap. I trudged through knee-high weeds, my boots squelching in the damp ground, following the line of willows.

I walked toward the willows, pushing through the dense branches. A strange grave hidden in the shadows appeared before me. I hurried over and saw that the tombstone faintly bore the name “Lewis.”

What surprised me most was that the tombstone was surrounded by carved beams and painted rafters. Under the upturned eaves at the top, there were indeed two large lanterns carved in relief.

The stone was weathered, the carvings faded, but the details were unmistakable—like something out of a forgotten dream. I ran my hand over the cool stone, and a chill ran up my spine.