Graveyard Keeper Stories Novels & Stories

“But this is worse than I thought.” The battle was fierce but brief. When the last of the dissenters fell, Lucan surveyed the scene grimly. “They’re not just holding onto the past,” he said. “They’re trying to bring it back.” The implications were chilling. The Keeper was gone, but his shadow lingered, threatening to rise again through those who refused to let him go. --- In the rumbles, Lena and her friends found a secret hoard of sinister relics buried deep in the city. The artifacts were a clear reminder of the Keeper's lasting impact, pulsing with a subtle, evil energy.

scold, me,” she said teasingly. A smile filled my face and I found myself laughing. “You really are something else,” I reply, looking down at the open book. “So, I am so confused. Marylin finds out that Remus has been lying to her the whole time, but then in this chapter, she sleeps with him. I don’t understand,” she says while showing me the next tab. I smile at her eagerness, “You don’t remember the gift that Remus gives her in the third chapter? A ring, forged in Dolos, the place of lost minds, rectified by the Keeper?” She nods her head as she flips back to the third chapter, “Right, it was a birthday gift.” “Yes, and remember Rosalyn later says that the Keeper went by many nam

The above sentences are the thoughts of the author about what he thinks, but it is my duty to tell all the things he has in his mind. The space science and the beginning of the human era, why I always talk about the past, why I'm interested in the dead stories, why I tell a tale of another time, why I don't like the present and, also why I'm not narrating about those dumbasses who were about to close the mysterious case of random killing by an unidentified criminal (creature)? You might have so many questions and confusions about the fact that I puzzle a simple story in what we call a Riddle…? But you can still believe in me that I'll give you a gift tomorrow.

Syteiner, his deceased uncle, during those times was his father’s councilor, right hand man and best friend, and a witness to his parent’s love story. The man also used to tell him stories about that time when he was still alive, and as a child, Alarick used to enjoy hearing them. Until Aefstine disappeared. Now, the stories of long ago and those happy times just brings pain and heartache to both his father and him. “How is it that no one knew about this?”

“Queen Lysandra.” The name hung in the air. Even the attackers seemed to hesitate. Elara’s voice was barely a whisper. “My ancestor…” The Keeper nodded. “History called her a savior.” His eyes became filled with sadness. “But history does not always know the whole story.” ⸻ With trembling hands, the Keeper opened Journal Thirty-Nine. “There is not enough time.” He looked at Elara. “You must understand something.” She leaned closer. “What?” “She was not trying to destroy the kingdoms.”

He didn’t move though, but just feeling his breath against my neck, I couldn’t help but bite my bottom lip as I fought the low whimper that almost escaped my lips. I looked toward whatever he was focused on only to frown when I saw an old man, his eyes glaring daggers at the grave, making me frown in confusion. The man was the cemetery keeper, he was the one that greeted me and Drake the first time we came here, but as far as I knew, the cemetery was closed down, meaning that not even he worked here.

“Lorenzo’s right. Whatever their origins, whatever grudge they’re clinging to from the Old Fracture, we end it here. Tell us more about the handlers, Mara. Any descriptions? Accents? Anything that might link back to who the Keeper could be?” Mara frowned in concentration. “One had a scar on his left hand, like an old burn. The other spoke with a slight northern lilt—maybe from the border packs that broke away years ago. They kept saying the Keeper was ‘untouchable’ because he helped raise several litters and patched up warriors after battles. Everyone owed him favors.” Reef slammed a fist lightly on the desk. “That narrows it down but not enough. We’ve got elders, longtime warriors, even som

Used to be just his name would send a whole squad running. He didn’t mess around. “Touch her, and you’re dead,” Aldric growled, voice way too steady for a man who starved. Keeper just laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh, not really. More like glass shattering. “You? You’re a skeleton propped up by old stories, dying slowly from the Long Guardian. What, you gonna glare me to death?” Aldric didn’t dignify that with a comeback. He just slapped his hand on top of Lyra’s burning-hot bracelet. Somehow, all those years of ancient, dusty wisdom shot through the silver and into her, all at once.

“Scholars who ask the wrong questions get locked out. Or worse.” Isabelle opened the folio slowly. Inside: faded illustrations of rituals, firelit gatherings, a sigil that matched the locket’s flame-and-thorn motif. She looked up. “The Keeper of Ashes is a society of women… but this—this is something older.” He nodded. “The Keepers weren’t just guardians. They were conduits. Protectors of something ancient. Something the city tried to erase.” She stared at the last page. A prophecy. “When the embers stir in a daughter’s veins,

“But it was never built for that purpose.” Rufus frowned. “Then why....” “To guard something,” Lumden finished. “I have hinted at some of the hunter's history, but not the whole truth.” They emerged into a circular chamber carved directly from stone. No banners. No trophies. Only shelves stacked with ancient books, scrolls sealed with wax, tablets etched with symbols older than the academy itself. Lumden moved through the space with reverence. “I am not merely a principal,” he said. “I am the Keeper.”