The Grave Novel Novels & Stories

She calmed down and looked at me; she was beautiful. Black hair, black eyes and white skin. I met her, the one who had the name of Lila Rendal. The girl was her. She introduced herself and was wary of me. She told me about her story and the truth hidden behind this place. It's a graveyard of memories. I didn't understand at first what she was implying, but I ended up realizing it. This graveyard or what seems a cemetery is a place that was a burial for the people who died from the pandemic, sickness that expanded like when fire expands in a forest. She had a sister that was killed by the one who told her to create a poison strong enough to take his life.

Because I've heard that sound too many times and it never gets easier. The burial doesn't last much longer after that. People leave in silence. In discomfort. In guilt. In fear. We stay. Of course we do. The grave is filled slowly. Dirt hitting wood. Each thud louder than the last. When it's done, there's nothing left. Just a name. A date. And a space where someone used to exist. Evelessa turns first. "Thalrion wanted this," she says quietly. Not to me.

The freezing cold against my bare hands suddenly stopped mattering. “He took it off for you,” she continued softly, turning her gaze back to me. “In a tiny stone hut on the Hollow Road, with the fire crackling and his men stationed outside. He laid it flat on the bench and showed you its inner face. Tell me, did he share what he found in the second grave he went looking for?” “How do you know about that?” “He’ll tell you the grave was empty,” she said, taking a step closer. “It was not empty when he opened it, Elinor.”

Until now. Shifting into drive, I hit the gas a little harder than intended. Gravel tumbles underneath the tires, keeping me from moving for a second before the Volvo takes off. I manage to turn around, easing up on the gas and finally hitting pavement to pass the cemetery gates. It's still pitch black outside but I'm beyond positive it shouldn't be. I've been gone for hours. This is insane. Nothing makes sense. The Watchman. My dead brother-at least I think it's him-back from the dead.

“You can keep it. I don't need you to be sorry. You can't keep being sorry. At least do something right so you don't always go 'sorry this’ and 'sorry that’ every time you do something wrong! Do something right!” I immediately turned and left the room, slamming the door. I made my way out of the palace's building and wandered around the yard. I went to the abandoned back of the building where the graveyard was. It was dead silent. I stepped slowly into the graveyard, looking at the details on each grave. I raised my gaze and looked straight ahead. There was a grave that stood ahead. It seemed to be built with raw gold. It was surrounded by puddles which had clean water in them. I need not be

It had been a decade since we were married. I led a group of men to excavate Jackie's first love's grave. Everyone around us praised him for being a loyal man. He never forgot his first love though she'd already died ten years ago. He'd go to the cemetery and celebrate her birthday all by himself every year. Yvonne's name was always at the top of his contact list. I was not angry at all. Instead, I was glad I married someone so loyal.

From the helicopter, I watched Alfred race to the crash site, clutching the fallen license plate, crying out, "Helen, Ruby..." It did not take long for the internet to explode with news of Ruby and I dying in that fiery wreck. I held my sleeping Ruby tight, put away my phone, and whispered, "This is it, Alfred. We're done for good." Alfred was haunted, thinking it was all some nightmare. He would slap himself, pinch his skin, and even jab himself with a knife, desperate to snap out of it. However, the pain, sharp and undeniable, kept telling him the brutal truth.

He knew that, without a phone or a lawyer, Elara had pulled the final trigger. He let out a howl that was easily seen as lonely and broken. Even the human guards in the hallway stopped their pacing, their hair standing on one end. It wasn't a howl of an Alpha. It was the pain of a man realizing he was standing in a grave he’d spent eight years digging.

"This place is only ten miles away from the foot of the Nefarious Deity Sect. We should be bumping into people by now." The old man frowned and mumbled, "Are they still cultivating in isolation?" He waved his hand and said, "Wait. Why is the grass on the grave wilted? Who dug the grave? Are there people fighting in front?" "The grave was dug out?" Chase was alarmed. Could the corpse have been buried for a long time? At this thought, he quickly headed toward the grave. As he had expected, the grave had been dug open. Corpses were strewn everywhere, and there was fresh blood on their clothes.

It rippled through the silent, dark cemetery. Hunter closed his eyes and listened to it as he took a deep breath. He hadn't enjoyed her screams like this before. Zara wriggled in attempts to put the fire off, and found herself falling inside the grave. Hunter sucked deep breaths as the crackling flames rose up to the surface to show. It was an unforgettable scene. The air was rippling with her screams of pain as the darkness of the night was being faintly lessened by the flames that grew high in the grave. From where Hunter was seeing, it gave the impression of having a ball of golden light glowing brightly in the depth of the grave.