Tale of Richard Cabel

Long before Buckfastleigh became a quiet corner of Devon known for its abbey and river walks, its soil had already been steeped in older, darker stories—the kind that clung to moss-covered stones and stirred when the wind soughed through ancient trees. Among them, none was so enduring—or so feared—as the legend of Richard Cabel. In life, he was a man of shadow and rumor; in death, something worse. They say the moor itself recoiled the night he died, that the Whisht hounds gathered to escort his soul not to heaven or hell, but to something far colder. And though centuries have passed, the iron-barred tomb still stands beneath the crumbling tower of Holy Trinity Church, a mute sentinel to the truth locals dare not speak aloud: that some graves are sealed not to keep the living out, but to keep what lies within from rising again.