Graveyard Keeper Silk Novels & Stories

Leon sighed and took on a gossipy tone. “You know what? I have a friend who sells custom made caskets. He is preorder only and the wait-list is long, but I can put Ina food word for you. His craftmanship is so good, you would even buy a few more for your sons and grandchildren to use. He has a family package and will give you a discount…” Before Leon could continue, the old woman ended the call. Leon had completely forgotten that Evan was in the car. He looked at the phone in his hand and scoffed.

Her words settled inside me like an anchor. The priestesses signalled the ritual’s completion. Attendants stepped forward as I rose from the bath. They wrapped me in fresh white silk and guided me toward the dressing chamber. I barely had time to gather my thoughts before the seamstress entered, followed by three attendants carefully carrying a long, velvet-covered stand. They placed it before me, unveiling it slowly as if revealing a sacred relic rather than fabric. My breath caught. Silver silk spilt downwards in smooth layers, embroidered with moonstones stitched in platinum thread. At the centre rested the Alpha crest, woven directly over where my heart would rest.

In fact, I specifically drew that line in the dirt. But Zorren is just holding my gaze, his silver eyes flashing cold, his thick fingers tapping a slow, lethal rhythm against his knee. "Put it on, Healer Vale. Unless you want the enforcers at your door by sunrise." I take a breath and yank the zipper down. "Fine. Turn your head. And—oh." The breath catches in my throat. A pale, moon-silver silk spills out of the bag, shimmering like running water under the cabin lights. I've never touched anything this refined in my entire life. The weave is infused with subtle protective threading—exquisite, royal-tier craftsmanship.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before finally knocking. Fenelle opened the door shortly after, her face lighting up with a joyful smile at the sight of me. Though her eyes appeared weary and red-rimmed, and she seemed more exhausted than usual, they shimmered with a mixture of relief and astonishment when our eyes met. It was only in that moment that I truly took in her appearance. She was dressed in an incredibly short spaghetti-strap nightgown featuring a plunging V-neck that showcased her curves and deep cleavage. The material was sheer enough to hint at her braless silhouette, while the short hemline left her long, elegant legs, which were accentuated by shimmering black stocki

Sarah had jolted upright as the image swirled into clarity—Emma standing in the ruins of a temple, her hands pressed to Long’s dying body, golden light pouring from her palms. Sarah had wept. Not from sadness—but from relief. From the sheer, agonizing hope that Emma was still alive. Still fighting. Still her. “I told you,” a voice whispered from the glass. “She burns for you.” Sarah didn’t answer. The Grimkeeper didn’t need her to. He emerged slowly from the wall, his tall form peeling from the reflection like a shadow stepping through water. His white robes moved like smoke. His mouth remained unseen—only his eyes burned, twin embers in a mask of nothing.

"Except for the expensive designer clothes and enchanted items. Don't throw those away into the dirt. Gather all the high-quality items up—my claws will sell them secondhand to the traveling merchants and donate every single token to the pack orphanage. Consider it a tiny bit of payback for the massive wealth they owe my pouch!" "However your paws dragged your dusty luggage into this mansion when your camp first arrived years ago, that is exactly how your hands are taking it back out today! That old junk is all your fur gets to keep!" my voice snaps as the bodyguards raid the back storage room, dragging out old dusty bags that Elder Mrs. Grimfen had hoarded since her countryside days.

Each one was encrusted with rare stones and embroidered with the sigils of ancient packs. My eyes drifted to a glass cabinet at the far end of the hall. "Are those for sale?" I asked, pointing to a gown in the center. It had an embroidered bodice that flowed into a skirt dotted with tiny, hand-stitched tulips. It didn't look like a weapon of war; it looked like a dream of peace. Mr. Jarvis let out a meaningful hum. "That, my dear, is the Tulip of the Tundra. It’s been waiting for a wolf with a soul like yours."

I unlatched the heavy silver buckles, the metal clicking loudly in the quiet space before the lid swung open on silent hinges. A custom gown arrives. The interior of the trunk was lined in dark velvet, and resting within the center was a masterpiece of pure, unholy seduction. It was a structured, floor-length gown cut from an impossibly heavy, liquid charcoal silk that looked like molten metal in the dim light.

A long line of warriors in uniform stood erect in silence, with only the wind echoing off the stone pillars. A dark wooden coffin adorned with the Gravepine pack’s emblem was slowly carried toward the final resting place. Behind it, Lyara stood beside Alpha Aric, a thin black hood hanging over half her face. There were no tears on her cheeks, but her devastation was evident in her vacant gaze and almost lifeless steps.