Grave Site

The headlight beams of the Chevy truck sliced through the gathering fog as it stopped at the edge of the old cemetery, illuminating the twisted shape of the split oak. The air was heavy with the odor of damp earth and decay, the silence broken only by the infrequent crinkle of leaves in the night. Vera emerged, her boots sinking into the earth, the cold bump of pistol against hip. Kane followed her, taking shovels and the kerosene lantern off the back of the truck, its light casting whirling shadows on the weathered gravestones. Jack brought up the rear, his face contorted in discomfort as he arranged his coat.

“This is it," Kane whispered, heading for the split oak.

The trunk opened like a wound, the bark silvered with age. "Under here. Granddad took me and showed me where they buried him—unmarked, but deep. They didn't want anyone to see."

Vera nodded, gripping her shovel hard. "Let's get on with it. The sooner we shoot down this legend's crap, the sooner we apprehend the real killer." She eyed Jack, who hesitated, his lantern trembling in his hand.

"You okay with this?"

Jack swallowed hard, nodding brusquely. "Yeah, Sheriff. Just… doesn't sit right, digging up a man's grave. But if it puts an end to ghost talk, I'm in."

They set to work, the empty clang of shovel against ground echoing through the cemetery. The work was hard, and the ground was stubborn and hard from years of neglect. Despite the cold, Vera's arms hurt as she pushed the blade deeper, and she dripped sweat from her forehead. Jack worked behind her, his gasps coming in quick, tense bursts, while Kane worked beside her, his strokes firm and slow.

"Shit. Soil's like concrete," Jack growled, wiping at his forehead. "How deep did they bury him, Kane?"

"Deep enough to keep their shame buried," Kane replied, with a note of bitterness. "He said they buried him six feet, maybe deeper, so nobody could dig him up. Took a whole night, years ago."

Vera paused, leaning against her shovel to breathe. "It takes us longer with just three. Keep going. We're not stopping until we hit bottom.”

Hours passed, the night deepening as they excavated. The pile of dirt grew beside the grave, the split oak looming overhead like a silent judge. Finally, the shovel struck something hollow—a soft thud that reverberated through the handle. Vera’s heart skipped. “We’re there. Let’s clear it.”

They worked with greater desperation, prying away the last layer of mud. The lantern light revealed a rough wooden coffee, the edges rotting and cracked. Vera sat down, prying at the lid with her shovel, her fingers quivering with anticipation. The wood groaned and swung open with a sigh, and she peered in—the grave was empty. No bones, no remains, just an empty space filled with damp earth.

Her breath caught, a chill crawling up her spine. "It's… empty," she whispered, the words trembling. She had pictured a skeleton, proof of a man made from mortal matter, but this emptiness negated all she had ever believed. Doubt gnawed at her—could the myth be real after all?

Kane dropped down beside the coffin, his expression grim. "I dreaded this." He thrust his hands into the muck at the bottom, scrabbling frantically. "There must be something—some clue." His fingers closed around a shape after a few moments, and he pulled it free—a medallion, its surface covered with mud but bearing a three-pointed star on the metal.

Vera stared, her mind whirling. "What is that?"

Kane raised it high, his voice dropping to a whispered awe. "This is connected to Moriah, a demon woman of the old witchcraft traditions. Elena Carey—Martin's wife—used it in a ceremony. She sought the power of Moriah to create, believing it would be a blessing on their union. The villagers found out, called it an abomination. That's how they attacked them—stoned her, buried Martin alive. This medallion… it's the connection. Her sorcery, his vengeance—it's all connected."

Before Vera could process his words, the sudden clang shattered the quiet. A chain emerged from the shadows, encircling Jack's ankles with a deadly speed. He yelped as the chain dragged the shovel out of his hands, pulling him back.

"Help! Something's got me!" he screamed, his voice echoing farther and farther away as he was dragged into the darkness, fighting against the unseen force.

"Kane, go!" Vera shouted, already in pursuit of Jack. Kane grabbed the lantern and followed, the medallion clutched in his fist. The cemetery whizzed by them, tombstones flashing as they fled from the cries of Jack. The fog thickened, disorienting them, and Vera made a split-second decision.

"We'll cover more ground if we split up! I'll take the left, you take the right. We have to find him!"

Kane inclined his head, his face white but determined. "Watch out, Vera. Whatever it is out there—it's not a living thing." He moved to the right, his lantern swinging into the mist.

Vera swung left, gun clutched in her hand, puffs uneven. The chain rattle was her guide, but Jack's screams were gone, leaving an unsettling silence. She stumbled over roots, her light beam weak against the darkness. A creak in the distance, and she spun around, her adrenaline pounding—but there was nothing. She couldn't get rid of the creeping sensation that she was being watched. Unseen eyes tracked her every move, something lurking just in the mist, its aim unknown but ominous.