“As they made their way there, he had to admit that Graves Glen was a pretty place. The sun was setting behind the low mountains that surrounded the town, turning the sky a deep purple. The lights strung between the streetlamps twinkled, and in every store window, there was some charming display – a pile of pumpkins, cardboard witches on broomsticks, more fairy lights. “It’s like being in a souvenir postcard,” Rhys said. “’Greetings from Halloweentown.”
