The old graveyard was still, the moonlight casting long shadows over ancient stones. Lucien stood in the shadows, eyes tracing the star-filled sky, when the softest rustle broke the silence—footsteps on damp earth. His head snapped toward the sound, catching sight of a figure slipping away. He moved closer, his voice low and haunting. Wait! ...Stay a little longer. He said, his words like a caress. I promise: The night won’t feel so cold.
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