He A Keeper Novels & Stories

"He’s just a man. You... you're a god in a hoodie, Caleb. And it’s terrifying. Because I don't know if I'm talking to my brother or the 'Keeper' of some ancient grudge." "I'm your brother," Caleb said, as his silver eyes softened, though they didn't turn back to brown. "But the Keeper is the one who’s going to have to save your lives when the ground opens up. So decide now; do you want the brother who lies, or the Keeper who survives?"

As though waking from a long sleep. His gaze settled on Alessio. Then Leonardo. A faint smile crossed his lips. “So…” he whispered, “…the sons of Vittorio finally kept their promise.” Every heartbeat inside the cathedral stopped. Because the stranger knew their father. Long before Vittorio had ever been born. The man slowly bowed. “My name…” He looked directly into Alessio’s silver eye. “…is Aurelius.” “The First Keeper.” Silence. Then he smiled again. “And…” “…the last man who should have awakened.”

Anna steps forward with resignation in her death form. “Me,” she says. “I’ll be an eternal Keeper. I’ll enforce proper death including cessation of Death-Aware consciousness. I won’t let sentiment corrupt the system like you did.” My sister is offering to replace me as eternal Keeper and erase Alistair’s consciousness to fix what I’ve broken. “Anna, no,” I protest. “It’s this or extinction,” she replies. “Original Death will end everyone including you unless someone enforces cessation properly. I’ll do it. I’ll be the Keeper who doesn’t let love compromise death. Give me the role and save everyone except the Death-Aware who shouldn’t exist anyway.”

I did not understand what’s happening at that moment. “This is the reason that I left you and your mum. To keep you safe. I am a member of ‘The Keepers’.” The way he told that, and the expression on his face like I knew what the Keepers mean. Would I be proud that he was a part of a gang?’ “I know you do not know about the Keepers,” He continued, “But we are a part of an underground war against witches.”

Many years ago, I suffered a head injury in a car accident and ended up brain-damaged. Only my godmother, Fenelle Porter, remained to care for me after my parents' long-ago divorce and relocation. As my mother's closest friend, she possessed a mature elegance, a striking figure, and a complexion that was both fair and smooth. My feelings for Fenelle ran deep, leading me to frequently lose myself in late-night fantasies about her. A recent accident changed everything. While Fenelle was out shopping, I fell from a cabinet and struck my head. Although the impact unexpectedly restored my mental capabilities, I chose to maintain the facade of my previous condition.

Thomas couldn't tell whether minutes or centuries had gone by. Then suddenly— a voice echoed through the light. "Interesting." Thomas froze. Immediately. Because the voice wasn't the Throne. It wasn't the horror. It wasn't the First King. Then the light shifted. A figure appeared. The Keeper. Smiling as always. God. No. Fair. Absolutely not. Reasonable honestly. Then Thomas frowned. Then: "You're still alive?" The Keeper laughed. Then: "Rude." Then: "I just saved reality." Honestly? Fair.

he said, his bright eyes locking on hers, “because I had something they needed. A piece of information. A truth so dangerous it could unmake the world they were building.” He reached down beside his chair and lifted a wooden box onto his lap. It was simple, unmarked. His thin fingers traced the lid. “Your mother calls me the keeper. I am not a keeper of objects. I am a keeper of a story. The story that began all of this.”

I asked. “I sensed Aria and knew that the time was drawing closer.” the keeper answered. “Who's Aria?” Xander asked. He was still tense and ready to attack. “A wolf that I know.” I answered. “A member of this pack?” He asked. The keeper laughed. “A wolf far greater than this pack.” “I've been meaning to ask, why does Aria talk to me?” I asked the keeper. “She hasn't told you? Ah, I see. You'll find out soon.” It replied. “Now that you're both here, I need you to do something.”

’’ Emma spat very much irritated with the earlier attitude of Keeper. ‘’I am Keeper and if you kill me, the ministers would never accept you talkless of him.’’ her voice came out in a whisper but it was enough to fuel the anger of Emma even more. ‘’Do I look like I care? You should know by now I do not mess with what is mine. He is mine and why would I allow you to touch him, with those cursed hands of yours?

They’re wrong. She turned the page. A Keeper isn’t born. A Keeper is the person who chooses truth when every lie would be easier. A tear slipped down her cheek. The words sounded exactly like him. Steady. Patient. Certain. She closed the journal as footsteps approached. It was Ethan. “I thought I’d find you here.” She smiled softly. “I was reading Dad’s journal.” He sat beside her. “What did he say?” Amelia looked down at the worn pages. “He said being a Keeper is a choice.”