That night, the fog rolled in thick and strange. It clung to the windows, pressed against the glass like it wanted inside.
Chizzy lit a fire and curled under a blanket with her mother's letter. Every word felt like a breadcrumb left for her to follow.
Then she saw it.
A light.
Faint, distant, bobbing through the trees. Someone carrying a lantern?
Curiosity pushed her up, coat thrown over her shoulders. She stepped outside, heart hammering.
She followed the light into the woods, trees looming overhead like skeletal guardians. It danced ahead, always just far enough to stay out of reach.
"Wait!" she called.
The light stopped.
She moved closer.
But when she stepped into the clearing, it was gone.
In its place stood a grave. Weather-worn, cracked. The name carved into the stone made her blood run cold.
Maura Adanna Nwachukwu
Her mother's grave.
But her mother had never been buried. She had disappeared.
Chizzy dropped to her knees. Tears filled her eyes, mixing with the fog curling low around her ankles.
Then, behind her a twig snapped.