Outside, the wind howled like it had secrets to tell. That old vault? Not a story people made up online. Stone walls thick enough to keep out more than just thieves. Vines curled tight around its sides, as if trying to pull it down into the earth. Rain shifted sideways, turning sharp, biting at anything exposed. Elara gripped the wheel tighter when the tires crunched over broken gravel. She’d pulled the spare vehicle from where it sat waiting, engine cold but ready. The path ahead dipped between crooked headstones, half-buried by time and roots. Iron gates groaned open on their own - or maybe the storm forced them. Either way, she didn’t stop.
Outside, rain tapped the car like quiet fingers. Elara stared straight ahead, hands on the wheel. A cemetery, she thought. That’s where we’re going
