The Orphan Keeper Novels & Stories

The one I heard in my dreams and in that memory of Elara. “What’s a Keeper?” I asked quietly. Lydia sat down on the edge of the bed. “Keepers are ancient beings born once every few centuries. They’re extremely rare and extremely powerful.” “What do they do?” “They maintain balance. Between the living and the dead. Between all creatures. They’re almost like…” She paused, searching for words. “Walking gods, in a way.” My mouth went dry. “That’s impossible. I’m not a god.” “Not a god. But you have power that most creatures don’t. Power to affect the balance of nature itself.”

Bound. "Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that,? But since you asked so nicely, I am the guardian of this room.? His smile widened. “I’m the Keeper of these records,” he said calmly, taking a step closer. “Sworn to protect the truth. And punish those who dare unearth it.” My pulse spiked. So this is how Kairos kept his secrets buried he assigned a guardian. One tied by blood or vow… or worse, by magic. “I was just cleaning,” I lied, feigning innocence.

the woman beside the man said. Sophia came to the realization that this business had been running for a long time. The old man looked like the director of this orphanage, and the middle-aged woman beside him was his assistant. Sophia did not say anything as she listened to their conversation very carefully. She made a mental note of every man's name who had purchased girls from this orphanage. After a while, everyone heard the sounds of cars outside the orphanage. Alpha Moen's guards were about to approach the door to check, but were kicked when the person entered the hall.

Although it's nothing like the orphanage in the Rexellen pack, I have to appreciate the homely feel of everything. “How many children do you have in here?” I ask her, curious. “Believe it or not, this orphanage has never hosted more than ten children at once,” Joan replies as she leads us down a corridor. “Almost all the time when both the parents die, there's a blood-related guardian to take them in. The children we normally get are from rogues who'd gotten pregnant and left their babies at the pack borders, or from families who'd been entirely destroyed by hunters.”

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.”

“Neither does he, I suppose! That’s what the staff are here for. Don’t worry about the spill, I’m sure you need to get to your lessons. I’ll send someone to take care of it for you.” I bit my lip. “It’s really no trouble – I don’t want to bother anyone.” I had always had to clean up my own messes, and often other people’s as well, back in the orphanage. We were expected to keep the place neat with the few cleaning supplies we had, in order to let Cliff pretend he was anything like a decent caretaker to the visitors. “Bless your heart, it’s not a bother at all. It’s our job, and Mr Voss is a great boss.” She winked at the rhyme she’d made, and we chuckled.

He was thankful to her for forgiving him and for freeing him from all the guilt. "Thank you... Thank you so much," Lucian sobbed after he got forgiveness from Nina. Nina smiled as she looked at him. "Now, I will take your leave," Nina sighed. "Wait," Lucian looked at her. "Yeah?" "Remember one thing, you're My Brother's Keeper, so take care of him," Lucian spoke. Nina smiled. "I will." 6 months later, Nina returned home from her work. She was completely exhausted and wanted to sleep, but the moment she turned on the lights of the apartment, she was surprised.

“We have to destroy them all. It’s the only way to ensure our family’s safety.” As they deliberated their next move, a low rumble echoed through the cavern. The family froze, their eyes darting toward the entrance. From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in black, their face obscured by a hood. “Who are you?” Wickham demanded, stepping protectively in front of Clara and the children. The figure raised a hand, revealing a glowing amulet that pulsed in time with the orb’s light. “I am the Keeper,” they said, their voice calm but commanding. “You have done well to make it this far, but your journey is not yet complete.”

And beside the fire stood a figure cloaked in obsidian robes, their face hidden. “I wondered when the flame-child would come,” the figure said, voice neither male nor female. “But I did not expect you to come alone.” Isabella stepped forward, cautious. “Who are you?” “I am what remains. The Keeper. The Womb of Flame.” “The Elders said nothing of you.” “The Elders forgot many things when they chose fear over memory.” She circled the heart-fire, watching it flicker in rhythm with her own pulse. “You watched everything,” she said. “You could have stopped it.”

My voice came out as a barely audible whisper, full of awkwardness and regret. Jace’s eyes met mine for a second, his smirk softening into something that looked almost… knowing. But then, before I could figure out what that meant, I heard another sound—a gentle, comforting voice. It was the caretaker, by her mode of dressing, I could tell she was the one who ran the orphanage. She approached with a warm smile and immediately wrapped me in a big, motherly hug. “Hello, dear,"she sounded hesitant as she glanced at Jace first.