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 the ornate carving around the tombstone—upturned eaves like a little pavilion. Beneath them, two large lanterns were 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.













