The keeper of eden, p.1
The Keeper of Eden, page 1
The Keeper of Eden
L.B. Disher
Copyright © 2026 by L.B. Disher
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact l.b.disher.author@gmail.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
No portion of this book was created, or may be used, with any form of generative AI.
Book Cover by JV.Arts2020 (https://www.justventurearts.com)
Illustrations by Manex_draws on Instagram
Editing by Melissa Durston (https://www.melissaannedurston.com/)
1st edition 2026
Contents
Dedication
Trigger and Content Warnings
2. Wayden
3. December
4. Wayden
5. Nathan
6. December
7. Wayden
8. Nathan
9. Wayden
10. Nathan
11. Wayden
12. Nathan
13. Wayden
14. Nathan
15. Wayden
16. Wayden
17. Nathan
18. Wayden
19. Nathan
20. December
21. Wayden
22. Nathan
23. December
24. Wayden
25. Nathan
26. Wayden
27. December
28. December
29. Nathan
30. December
31. Wayden
32. December
33. Nathan
34. Wayden
35. December
36. Wayden
37. Sarina
38. December
39. December
40. Nathan
41. December
42. Wayden
43. Nathan
44. Wayden
45. Sarina
46. Nathan
47. December
48. Nathan
49. Nathan
50. December
51. Nathan
52. Wayden
Acknowledgements
Dedication
To anyone who has ever been given impossible choices
and still chooses to rise every day.
Trigger and Content Warnings
I’m sure there are several TW's/CW's that I have not recognized, so if at any time reading, you come across one that you believe needs to be added to the list, don’t hesitate to reach out to me.
-Violence
-Cursing
-Drug/Alcohol use
-Explicit scenes
-Blood magic
-Classism
-Racism— The characters face on-page discrimination because of their status as fae.
-Past SA/near assault
Chapter one
Nathan
Ethereal clouds floated across the night sky, obscuring the stars above Nathan and casting an eerie shadow over the world. The pond at his feet rippled as fish jumped out of the water, hoping to ensnare a tasty morsel as it skimmed along the surface tension.
The autumn breeze wrapped around his muscles like a promise. As soon as summer released its grip, it would dress the world in colorful trees and chilly nights.
His stomach growled loudly enough that he was afraid it’d scare the fish. It’d been days since he’d eaten anything other than berries.
Regular food was scarce and sleep only came when they found a barn or outbuilding to sneak into after dark, leaving before morning. They needed to find a more permanent solution to their living situation before winter came.
His brother, Wayden, sat a few feet away, tying string onto his own fishing hook. The owner of the pond forgot to lock the shed where he kept his fishing rods and lines. Fish would be a welcome change.
“Where to next?” Nathan asked, reaching for the open bottle of alcohol next to him. He took a swig, making a face when it burned on the way down. He didn’t ask where Wayden had gotten it because he probably wouldn’t have liked the answer anyway. His brother didn’t share his respect for the rules, and Nathan didn’t share his brother’s love of alcohol.
The feathered marker bobbed up and down and Nathan reeled it in with the patience of a hungry boy. Wayden tossed his own baited hook out into the water.
“I hear the fae army is recruiting,” Wayden said. “I'm going to enlist. It would give me a stipend—enough to make sure you had a roof over your head and feed us both, at least. Mom would have wanted that.”
Anger bubbled in Nathan’s belly. Since when had Wayden cared what their mother wanted?
“It won’t bring her back, you know,” Nathan said, failing to keep the edge from his voice. Wayden went rigid beside him, his knuckles whitening around the pole.
Wayden had been angry ever since they’d come to Dhracora, and would often sneak out of the house after chores were done. He wouldn’t come back until the early hours, always smelling of blood and alcohol. Nathan caught him trying to hide fresh injuries, but when he asked his brother about them, Wayden scoffed and told him not to worry about it.
Nathan remembered the day their mother found out Wayden had been sneaking out. She and Wayden fought early that morning, and he left the house as soon as he could.
Hours passed, and when he didn’t return home, their sent Nathan to find him. After all, fae hunting parties had been creeping ever closer.
Tired, hungry, and sore, he’d returned empty-handed after looking for Wayden in the fields and creeks, their normal haunts. By the time he saw the smoke hovering in the air over their land, he’d been hours too late. Wayden had been even later, with the heavy smell of alcohol on his breath.
It was Wayden’s fault that Nathan wasn’t there when the hunters came. If he had been, she would never have died.
“I never meant for any of that to happen,” Wayden said, his words so quiet that Nathan strained to hear them. His vision clouded with a rush of anger flooding his system. He drained his bottle and threw it as hard as he could into the forest and jumped to his feet.
Nathan’s rage seethed, prickling at the back of his eyes. He winced as his fist collided with Wayden’s jaw.
Wayden didn’t even try to stop him, which enraged Nathan more.
“Fight back!”
“Nathan, I’m sorry—”
Nathan lost himself to the anger and grief he’d tamped down for months, and he punched his brother again.
Wayden tackled him to the ground, where they rolled several feet, nothing but falling fists and kicks. Neither of them landed a blow that mattered, as they released pent-up anger and guilt on each other.
Nathan landed on top, slamming his fist into the dirt next to Wayden’s head.
“You’re sorry? Do you think apologizing is going to make what you did—what you caused—any better?” Nathan said. “You were never there!”
“Because I couldn’t stand by and do nothing!” Wayden yelled, shoving Nathan back. “Not while they came after our friends, while we hid and did nothing.”
Nathan stared, catching his breath as new bruises stung. What was he saying?
Wayden wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. Seems Nathan had gotten in a lucky hit after all.
“Do you know why Mom and I got into a fight that morning?”
Before Nathan could reply, a hand grabbed him by the back of the shirt and ripped him away from Wayden. He clawed behind him with a shout, and the hand released him. He spun to face his attacker as Wayden picked himself up off the ground. When he saw the rifle pointed at his chest, his feet refused to move.
There was nowhere he could run before he got shot, anyway.
The male appeared to be in his late forties, his dirty blond hair streaked with gray, and lines etched into his face. Nathan checked his ears: round with none of the qualities of the fae.
All the anger dissipated from Nathan’s body, replaced by fear. Was he going to shoot them, or turn them in? Goosebumps rose on his skin.
The man sighed, lowered the rifle, and straightened.
“Come with me,” he said.
“We’re not going anywhere with you,” Wayden answered.
The male laughed. “I could take you at gunpoint, I suppose, but I would rather you just come with me.”
“Why?” Nathan spat. “So you can turn us in?”
Disbelief stared back at him.
“So I can feed the two of you. You look like you’ve been on the streets for months.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” Wayden said, stepping in front of Nathan.
“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you woke me up yelling like a pack of wild dogs and stealing from my pond.” Nathan glanced at the fishing rods discarded on the ground in time to watch Wayden’s get pulled into the water by a hungry fish. “And it seems you just lost one of my best rods and lines.”
Nathan didn’t know what to say about that.
He knew that not all humans on the continent hated fae, but there was no telling who would turn you in and who wouldn’t. He clenched his fists as he looked around. Could they make it if they ran?
The Dhra coran government would never admit it, but they had been encouraging humans to turn fae in for a while to their hunting squads. What started as a search for dangerous criminals now seemed to become an arterial bleed of outright corruption and hatred, and he didn’t know which side this male was on.
“Well, come on! I won’t wait all night. Grab that other pole.”
Wayden’s green gaze flickered to him and his shoulders dropped.
“Fine.”
“Wayden, no.” Nathan didn’t trust this strange man.
“We don’t have a choice,” Wayden whispered, pointing at the rifle hanging by the farmer’s side. He grabbed the pole and leaned it against his shoulder.
Wayden was right; he could simply take them at gunpoint if he chose to. They didn’t really have a choice. Nathan eyed the weapon as they slowly stepped forward under his watchful gaze. Though, he much preferred not to have the barrel of the weapon pointed at his back while he walked.
“I’m Thomas, by the way.”
Nathan tucked that information away for later. That seemed like a nice, normal name.
“Nathan,” he supplied. “And this is—”
Wayden elbowed him in the ribs before he could give Thomas his brother’s name. He shut his mouth and followed. Though it didn’t stop him from glancing over his shoulder every few feet, expecting a bullet through the back.
Thomas marched them through pastures and fields to the house, past barns where horses, cows and goats grazed in the night. It was small, but clean and well-maintained. Soft light spread from open windows, framed by black shutters. The porch creaked as they stepped onto it. Thomas opened the door, pointing to the chairs at the kitchen table.
One of the first things he noticed was how clean it smelled. The dog lying by the hearth barely lifted its head to acknowledge them before thumping its tail against the ground at the sight of its master and laid back down.
Nathan glanced back at Thomas and watched him hang the rifle over the mantel, beneath the gleaming sword. The chair creaked beneath Nathan when he sat, and he waited for Wayden to follow. His brother defiantly crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Thomas.
Thomas studied them, and Nathan stared straight back.
“Gods, you’re just boys,” Thomas said quietly, like he found them wanting. Nathan sat straighter. He was tired of people underestimating them. They had dealt with it for months now, and if it wasn’t their age, as soon as people realized they were fae, they treated them differently anyway.
“We’re fifteen and seventeen,” he protested.
Thomas set a platter of bread, butter and cheese in front of them before pulling out the remains of a roasted chicken from the cooling box. Nathan's mouth watered, his stomach growling at the sight. Traitorous organ.
“What about your family?” Wayden asked.
“I ain’t got one anymore. It’s just me and ol’ Jexson there,” Thomas said, motioning at the dog who had risen at the smell of chicken, stretched, and padded over. The sadness in Thomas’s voice was palpable.
Nathan and Wayden stared at one another. Could they trust him? Or was he going to poison them? Jexson walked between Nathan and Wayden, sniffing both while his tail wagged. He nudged Wayden’s arm until he petted him.
Thomas set a pot of coffee on, and the smell permeated the small house. It reminded Nathan of happier days back on Revlain, and his gaze wandered throughout the house.
Several paintings and pictures hung over the mantel, most of them of a much younger Thomas, a young woman and two small children. His wife, Nathan presumed. In each picture, her smile was bright and free, the kids appeared happy, and Thomas’s love for them shined through.
“What happened to them?” Wayden asked quietly, and Nathan leaned forward, curious about the answer as well. A soft, sad smile played on Thomas’s lips.
“They died,” he said simply. “You boys go ahead and dig in. What doesn’t get eaten will go to Jexson here anyhow.”
Jexson’s tail thumped against the ground at that.
Wayden’s stomach growled loudly, and they both lost their ability to say no, digging into the meal while Thomas watched.
Nathan looked back over the mantel at the painted portraits that depicted three ethereal figures as he stripped the chicken bone in his hand.
One was female, whose face turned up with her hands raised heavenward. The artist painted her to appear young, angelic. To her right was a male with dark wings that stretched out proudly behind him, and he carried a sword on his hip. The third was a plain-looking male holding a book. Each of them had a bright glow around their bodies.
“Who are they?” Nathan asked, his voice quieter than normal.
Thomas followed his gaze, and he too studied the paintings. “They’re the primordials: Revlis, Kravehn and Dhracoris. They created the world you live and breathe in.”
Nathan couldn’t help but notice the reverence in Thomas’s voice.
Even Wayden turned to look.
“They haven't shown themselves for centuries. Few people believe in such fairy tales any longer,” Wayden said, turning back to his meal. Nathan glared at his brother. Why was he always such a prick? Thomas broke his gaze from the painting and nodded.
“You’re right. Many people have turned away from the faith of the primordials, sad to say. But there are still those who believe, as I do.”
Nathan’s fingers touched the disc hanging around his neck by a string he kept beneath his shirt. It had three runes scratched into its surface that stood in for the names of the primordials.
Their mother was a believer and had taught him, but he hadn’t seen detailed portrayals of them before. The shrine back home had nothing more than the same runes that were etched into his necklace. He never took it off, and whenever he was unsure, he always touched it, finding reassurance in it.
Thomas studied them both. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I won’t ask questions, and you don’t have to tell me why you’ve been on the streets.”
Wayden had practically inhaled his portion of chicken already, and Nathan saw him studying Thomas, with interest or mistrust he wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that it sounded too good to be true.
Thomas handed Jexson a leg bone to gnaw on.
“Are you going to turn us in?” Nathan asked quietly. Thomas seemed genuinely confused by his question.
“Why would I do that, boy?”
“Because we’re…well, we’re fae.”
Thomas’s expression softened. “I ain’t gonna turn you in.”
Nathan reached for his coffee, giving himself time to analyze Thomas’s words.
“Why not? Others would,” Wayden said, bitterness lacing his voice.
“I ain’t others, boy. Those who would turn you in are nothing but heartless bastards. Fae or not, you’re just trying to live your life like anyone else. Can’t fault you for that.”
Thomas’s heartbeat remained steady to his ears. Usually when people lied, their pulses spiked, and the smell of fear would leak from their pores. Few humans knew about the fae’s heightened senses, so it gave them an advantage.
Fear, mistrust, and hope all warred in Nathan’s chest. It would be nice to be safe somewhere for once, without having to worry about being found and dragged to a horrible death. They’d had some close calls, but Wayden somehow always found a way out of it.
An image of his mother’s limp body flashed through his mind, and he had to swallow as the bile rose at the back of his throat.
Thomas pushed his chair back, and Nathan flinched at the sound of the wood scraping on the floor. It dragged up long-buried memories of his childhood—before he joined Wayden’s family. Memories of a cruel father and a spineless mother.
“If you’re done eating, I’ll show you both where you’ll sleep,” Thomas said.
Nathan looked at Wayden. They both desperately needed sleep, and the full meal was eating away at his mistrust. Besides, the portraits of the primordials stared out from the mantel. They would protect them.
Wayden met his gaze and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine.”
They followed Thomas down the hall, up the stairs to the spare room, which boasted two small beds in the cozy space.
“In there. I’ll get you some clothes to change into,” he said, before he continued down the hall.
Wayden grabbed Nathan’s arm sleeve before he could enter the room and dragged him back with a shake of his head before he stepped in.
