It was a night shrouded in darkness, a relentless storm raging overhead. The air was frigid, biting at the skin, and the rain fell in heavy sheets, soaking the ground and turning the narrow path through the cemetery into a slick, muddy quagmire. Thunder rumbled ominously, and flashes of lightning briefly pierced the gloom, casting jagged shadows across the crooked gravestones. The wind wailed through the barren trees, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. Jake, shivering and drenched, cursed his decision to cut through the old cemetery. It had seemed like a clever shortcut an hour ago, but now he was hopelessly lost. His phone had died long before, its screen black and useless, leaving him at the mercy of the storm. Each step squelched in the mud, and the rows of tombstones stretched endlessly before him, their shapes distorted by the downpour and the fleeting bursts of light. As he trudged onward, something peculiar caught his eye. The gravestones weren’t ordinary—they bore the names of meme coins from the Solana blockchain, relics of a once-hyped digital gold rush now reduced to forgotten ruins. The inscriptions glowed faintly with an eerie blue hue, flickering through the rain like ghostly candles. He stopped at one, squinting to read: "Here lies Trump SOL, 2024-2025. Gone but not forgotten." A few steps farther, another declared: "JailStool , we hardly knew ye." And then: "In memory of Libra , rugged in 2025." It was a graveyard of shattered crypto dreams, each stone a testament to fleeting fortunes lost to time. The sight unnerved him—a chilling reminder of impermanence in a world he thought he understood. The storm grew fiercer, lightning cracking the sky apart as thunder shook the earth. Jake’s pulse raced; the air felt thick with an unseen presence, as if the spirits of these failed coins lingered, their whispers carried on the wind. He hurried forward, desperate to escape, but the path twisted and turned, looping back in a disorienting spiral that defied logic. Then, through the torrent, he glimpsed a shadowy figure standing beside a towering gravestone. A flash of lightning illuminated its inscription: "SOUL EXTENDED WARRANTY, eternal coverage for your digital soul." The figure, cloaked in darkness, raised a hand, beckoning him closer. Fear clawed at Jake’s chest, but exhaustion and desperation outweighed his dread. He approached, the muddy ground sucking at his boots.