Buried Hearts Ep 1 Novels & Stories

morphed into his true form. [Niklaus] Secrets never stay buried...Let's go sister. As "Olateju" standing in the shadows watching them go down the stairs that was beneath the tomb. S1 E9 "The Nephilim"

It was something i never expect to see. "Celebration of life, you left us too soon, you shall forever remain in our heart, Max. There was a picture of her attached to the post. My mind went blank, my heart sunk, my hands were shaking. I could not believe what i was reading. It had to be a joke. There was a date and venue attached to the post. The Burial was taking place tomorrow. I had to see for myself if it was true or not. I leaned back against the leather seat, the city lights blurring past the tinted glass. For years, i had buried the past beneath layers of success and sophistication. But now, with one news, the foundations trembled.

she breathes softly against my chest. The sound of my name coming from her lips almost breaks something inside me. “You are here,” I whisper, my voice rough. “You are actually here.” She tilts her head up to look at me, her eyes shining, and there is a faint smile on her lips that looks both happy and tired at the same time. “I told you I was real.” I shake my head slowly, still staring at her face like a man who has not seen water in years. “I buried you,” I murmur. “I watched them lower the coffin.”

It was better if I just blocked her phone number. Anger flares for a moment, sharp and hot, a desire to cut her out of my life with one clean motion. But underneath the anger is something more dangerous, a small, bitter grief that will not be soothed by blocking a number. Blocking her will not bring back the nights I held Jude’s hand or the promises we made in whispers. Blocking is only a gesture, it cannot undo what she has taken. I get out of the office like a madwoman, completely confused about where I was going. The heartbreak was too much for me to handle. I just could not take it anymore. This was too much.

“You died. They burned the village. I—” “You didn’t come back for me,” she said, taking another step. “You escaped. I begged you to come back. I screamed.” My knees buckled. This wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. But it felt real. Every step Calista took scraped the wound wider. “I buried you,” I whispered. “You buried my body. Not my soul.” She lifted a hand, and the forest reacted—groaning, writhing. Shadows oozed from behind her like venom. They wore the faces of the past. My past.

I wasn’t listening. I was staring at that closed box and thinking: No. She's not in there. No way in hell. Calla’s not the kind of girl you just... bury. She's not dead. Even here, I'm still not believing. When I heard the news, I didn't believe it. I laughed dryly, this is bull crap. "You’re not dead, babe. You’re just hiding. I know it."

"Don't you recognize the place from the news? Asher, stop lying to yourself. It wasn't just me. Oliver's been trying to get through to you, too. But you chose to bury yourself in that little love story of yours. You killed Teresa." I exposed Asher without mercy. Right as he unlocked his phone, hundreds of WhatsApp messages poured in. Dozens of texts and missed calls lit up his phone. Every single one screamed the same thing—he couldn't care less if Teresa lived or died. Asher dropped to his knees beside Teresa, sobbing like his world had just ended. It took me back to my past life—to the day he found out Melanie had died. That same broken look was on his face now. And yet, when I was stabbed

"I'm sorry… Rose, I'm so sorry…" With trembling hands, Carissa pulled out her phone and dialed my number. The number saved as an emergency contact, which had always been answered within seconds, would now never connect again. Carissa sank to the floor. She refused to give up, dialing the number over and over. "Please, I beg you, pick up the phone! I was wrong. I was so wrong…" She sobbed so hard she could barely breathe.

But she could feel it pulsing, a tiny, steady heartbeat of grief. She reached for it. The seed did not resist. It had been waiting. For centuries, it had been waiting for someone to notice it. The Hollow had fed on it, but the Hollow had never seen it. The original bargainer had hidden it, buried it, and tried to forget it. But it was still there. Still alive. Still grieving. Clara touched it with her anchor sense. The grief flooded through her. --- She was in a room she had never seen. A small bedroom, sunlight streaming through gauze curtains. A bed with a child in it—a girl, perhaps twelve, with winter-sky eyes and dark hair spread across the pillow. Her face was flushed with fever, her b