روايات وقصص ضمن Graveyard Tales

Ink rained more heavily over that section, soaking into the shelves, words ghosting along their edges before seeping in. Scripts from earlier cycles. Regrets are rewritten. Stories abandoned. “My worlds,” I said. Not just the Game’s. My old drafts. The Graveyard had been full of them; now it was bringing them here. The hybrid Final World was shedding some of its borrowed mash‑up skin and reaching for a base layer it recognized: Library. City. A library‑city. A place built of stories instead of just haunted by them. The Admin spat static. “UNAUTHORIZED STRUCTURE… GROWTH,” it grated. “AUTHOR GRAVEYARD PARAMETERS LEAKING. CONTAINMENT… IMPOSSIBLE.”

They were midway across the path, in front of a cemetery when suddenly graves started opening. "What is going on?" Isabella asked, clutching onto Chris tightly. Chris was suddenly sweating so furiously but Ariel was cool and her face was blank and devoid of any emotions. They stood there watching six tombs open and six scary-looking ghosts walked out. Isabella was already whitish in appearance knowing who they are. Chris's hairs were all up and his eyes green, his normal sight nature. "GREETINGS TO THE SPECIAL ONE." One of them muttered. "GREETINGS TO THE LITTLE GODDESS." Another muttered.

Elena winced. "Ow, my head," she groaned in pain as she looked around. Where was she? She looked around again. It was wide room with small windows covered by dirty curtains, making it suffocating. The paint on the wall was faded, different stains and marks plastered to it. There was a wooden table and chair at the corner of the room, several empty crates, bottles and cigarettes box laying carelessly around. It looked like an old abandoned room.

“Running around graveyards?” The man looked confused. “I like to take walks, sure, but I’ll just go around parks at most. I’ve never been to a graveyard before!” “Us elderly people are most afraid of that!” Harvey couldn’t wrap his head around the situation. ‘He’s never been to a graveyard?’ “Did you pick up money on the road with a note inside, saying that a few years of your lifespan is being borrowed, or something of the sort?”

--The Nydisian Kingdom, Countryside, Lady Morgan's Manor-- 'The troubles of one's mind and the thoughts within the soul bring forth a long-forgotten pain only to be remembered by those who sow the reward. If only time could tell the fate of one's life, how much time would be saved? Destiny, however, laughs in the face of time, mocking its existence for being nothing but a measure that means nothing compared to its counterpart. However long, wherever it may be, the once-forgotten pain along with destiny will turn back to mock your existence before moving to its next victim.'

The graveyard was up on the hill. As soon as they arrived, Cassian first noticed six black coffins strewn haphazardly across the hillside. Then, he saw several freshly dug pits, along with a few funeral wreaths, and some other things scattered everywhere. The whole place was a mess. "Mr. Gulley, did all the villagers who died get buried here?" Cassian asked. "Yeah," Darren replied. Cassian circled the coffins and the pits, pacing back and forth as he tried to find even the faintest trace of a clue. After half an hour, he still hadn't found anything of value.

Over the centuries, many brave souls have ventured into the Graveyard of Sand in search of treasure and to discover the sorcerer's secrets, but few have returned, and those who have returned have spoken of terrible sand monsters, creepy crawlies, and a dark sorcerer who would not let go. no one gets out alive. Even if they took the gold and riches away from that cursed land, they sprouted again, appearing again, then the dead, monsters and zombies returned to roam that territory that concentrated a large number of supernatural creatures.

"But if Father kills you both now, the story ends. And I hate a boring ending. Besides, if Kael dies, Father will expect me to lead the next war. I’d much rather be drinking wine while you two cause chaos." ​"He's lying," Kael muttered from behind her. "He's helping us because he knows that if the Pale King gets the dagger, the Demon Realm is the first place that will burn." ​The tunnel opened up into a massive underground chamber. Seraphina let a tiny bit of blue light leak from her palm so they could see. ​The room was filled with thousands of stone coffins. But they weren't for people. They were small, no bigger than a book.

Instead, I was glad I married someone so loyal. But then, another deathday came. I saw a photo of him kissing the supposedly dead Yvonne in Lutecia when I went through his phone. I went to the cemetery, my phone in hand showing the photo. I was shivering as I demanded answers. He snatched the phone away and looked at me icily. "Are you mad, Wisteria? She's already long dead, and you're trying to sully her name with this?" I looked at the photo on the headstone. She looked a bit like me, and I laughed until tears streamed down my cheeks. "Yeah, she's dead. So, tell me, how'd a dead woman spend 150 grand on the card my dad gave you?"

“There’ve been whispers. Nothing solid. Just… rumors. There was one I’d heard about a grave.” My brow arched. “A grave?” “Yes. An empty one. They said two corpses lay on either side, drained dry. Whoever stumbled on it swore it was linked to Dracula himself.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Dracula? Really? That’s the story floating around? Most of those tales are campfire trash meant to spook kids.” Her frown deepened, though a flicker of curiosity lingered in her gaze. “Maybe. I’ve never seen a vampire myself. Tell me the truth are they trying to spark another war?”