The graveyard was silent, save for the crunch of leaves beneath his boots as he walked between the ancient headstones. This place is older than I am—at least, the parts of me that count. The air smelled of damp earth and decay, and the faintest trace of incense, like someone had tried to bless a place long past saving. He paused at a weathered statue of a weeping angel, its stone eyes hollow and accusing. "Guess we’re both out of time, huh?" he murmured, resting a hand on the cold marble. His gaze drifted to the shadows stretching between the graves, deeper and darker than they should have been. Something moved there, just beyond the edge of his vision, and he didn’t need to look to know it was following him. "Alright," he muttered, straightening. "Let’s get this over with."