Preparations
The pale moon cast an eerie glow on Ethan's casket, as Rachel stood alone in the graveyard. The cold wind whispered through the barren trees, their skeletal branches scratching at the sky like desperate fingers. She bit her lip, holding back a sob she couldn't afford to release. Her heart shuddered in her chest, feeling heavier than the earth that would soon cover his coffin.
"Rachel." The gentle voice of the Priest startled her, and she turned to face him. His eyes were filled with understanding and sorrow, as he held out a worn leather-bound diary. "Ethan would have wanted you to have this."
"His diary?" She hesitated, her hand trembling as she reached for it. The leather felt rough beneath her fingertips, like old scars that refused to heal.
"Indeed, the only memory of his" the Priest replied, his gaze never leaving hers. "Perhaps it holds answers to the questions that haunted you both."