The Stake and the Halloween Veil
Blackthorn Grove’s cemetery hummed with thin air as Lila held her pumpkin lantern. The legend was true—the Stakekeeper, a shadow with hollow eyes, stood clutching a rusted iron stake.
“Regret chains them,” it rasped, nodding at the unmarked graves. “This stake severs it.”
Lila held her lantern to light the way. Each strike of the stake roused a glowing spirit, drifting toward the moon. When the last was free, the Stakekeeper’s form softened.
“Now you guard the veil,” it said, pressing the stake into her palm.
As Halloween’s chill settled, Lila smiled—scares faded, replaced by the quiet magic of setting spirits free.
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