The old cemetery stood silent as the tombstones that filled its overgrown grounds. Not a breath of wind disturbed the rows of weathered markers, long abandoned to the encroaching wilderness. It was well past midnight as Kunikida slowly moved between the graves to investogate a recent case, the beams of his flashlight piercing the dense fog that had rolled in, obscuring everything more than a few feet away.

The fog was rolling in fast, an white billowing shroud that threatened to swallow him whole in its grasp. He shivered, though not entirely from the chill in the damp air. Something didn't feel right.

A nagging sense of being watched prickled the back of his neck, though he saw nothing moving in the swirling mist. Was it merely his imagination playing tricks in the strangeness of the darkness? Or were other eyes upon him from beyond the veil?