Keeper of Memories, Chapter One : Adventure

This is the first chapter of a four chapter short story that ties into my fantasy adventure Portals Series and can be read as a standalone. To read more information on the this story and the others in the series, visit Keeper of Memories.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction written by K. S. Wood and thus is copyrighted 2026. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.  All rights reserved.  Cover created by K. S. Wood using Canva and no part of this work was written or created using AI.

Adventure

It has been many years since I had one of my most favorite adventures, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I was twenty-one years of age and learning to branch out on my own. I had just started my work as the Keeper of Stories for my home realm after extensive training in the realm of my father’s birth. Unlike my twin, who was already planning a wedding, I had no intention of settling down yet. My short-term goal was to get the library into order, sorting through all of the stories my father had collected and the tomes my mother had bound them into.  I wanted to make the library into something as grand as the library in Delphian.

But Papa had other plans.

He approached me while I was deep in my work one morning. Tetyana had ported to another part of the realm, needing to do something in her official capacity as Dynast.  Dreu, one of Anton’s sons who wanted to learn to be a librarian, was helping my mother and brother move some of the stories from the village to the Seat of Magic. Scion Ariadne was seated in a corner, writing down some memories from a recent trip.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had Ari not been there.

Papa cleared his throat, which got my attention. He was wearing his pack on his back and had hooked his hands about the straps.  It meant he was going on another adventure.

“Where are you headed?” I asked, turning my attention back to the story I was organizing.

While Rena was always worried about him, I was more pragmatic and was rarely concerned about his adventures. I knew he had a job to do, just like we all did.  And worrying about him while he was away did more harm than good.

“The Realm of Memory.”

I looked up at him and blinked in surprise as I contemplated what he had revealed. I had once dreamed of going to that realm myself after reading about his adventure there. The stories that were housed in that portal and kept by the Memory Keeper were astounding. They told of portals created and rewritten histories. They were memories, after all.

But unlike my brother, I knew I’d never get a chance to see them in person. Traveling portals was not something I could do, though I once dreamed of adventure.  I knew I would only read about it in the stories that laid before me.

“Be safe,” I replied, turning my eyes back down to the table to try to hide my wish to go. “I’m sure your story will be detailed.”

“We will be safe, I hope,” he replied. “And with your experience as editor, I am sure we will write a good story for this trip.”

I glanced up at him again, noting the glint of the owl on his medallion as the sunlight hit it just right. The crystal that made up the feathers matched my father’s eyes and cast glitter across the surfaces of the library. The purple in the owl’s eyes seemed to glow.

“We?”

There was a hint of a smile on his scarred face, the only show of emotion on the otherwise stoic countenance. His long gray hair was unbound and brushed against his shoulders in waves, contrasting with the black of his tunic and pants.

“I was hoping you’d come with me, Poe.”

I felt confused. Surely my elder brother was a better candidate. Kohlberht held the same seeking magic as my father, whereas I had no magic at all.  I was just the common-born child of the most powerful magical creature in all of the realms.

“Why me? Why not Berhtie?”

His expression became serious again.

“The current memory keeper is dying. I have been invited to come witness the event, but I also want to record what stories I can from the memory keepers. I need someone who can write quickly and is well versed in the language of memories. And while Berht could help with the magic should the need arise.….” He sighed.  “Well, you are more suited for the job as a keeper of stories “

“But I have work to do here,” I grumbled, looking at the piles of papers and books that lined the tables waiting for me to sort them. “All of this needs to be organized.”

There was a bit of commotion from Ari’s side of the room.  I glanced over to see her smiling at me sheepishly, her own colorless eyes squinting with embarrassment.

“I was trying not to eavesdrop,” she said, her black curly hair shimmering slightly with a hint of dark pink.  “But I think this adventure will be good for you. We need as many stories as we can get, especially since the memory keepers usually aren’t memory sharers.  And I can tell you really want to go. I know this would be a good trip for you.”  She indicted the entire room.  “These stories have been here for a while.  They can wait.”

She was right. I did want to go. Just seeing the memory keeper would be amazing. The thought of being the first to record such stories thrilled me. I could feel my heart beating faster with anticipation. And Ariadne was right, the work I was doing could wait.

Thus with a little preparation, I was off on my first adventure, nervous and intoxicated by the idea of the stories I was about to encounter.

Papa jumped first and I followed, a little unsure of what was to come.  As I stepped through the portal, I had to blink multiple times to allow my eyes to adjust. The darkness after the dazzling brilliance of the library at the Seat of Magic was quite a change.

We were in some sort of chasm made of a spongy tan material, the ceiling of which soared above our heads. There was light here, subdued and soft. Glowing orbs waved on long stem-like apparatus at my knees and larger orbs floated well above our heads.

I followed my father as he wove his way along the path in front of us. There was something about the way the material of the floor seemed to give a little with each step that made me falter. I kept my hands in the pockets of my jacket, afraid to touch anything or do anything that would cause me harm.

Papa seemed to sense my reluctance.  He turned and looked at me, his hands wrapped around the straps of his pack.  He reassured me with a brief smile.

“This is memory,” he murmured gently in Ruffian.  “Nothing here will be solid.  All will drift along and seem a bit fuzzy.  Just keep moving and sensing.  You will do fine, Poe.”

I glared at him when his back turned, letting out a large sigh as quietly as I could.  I felt as if he did not know me.  He expected me to sense things, yet I didn’t have the magic that allowed him to understand everything with but a touch of his hand.  All I had were the normal traits I was birthed with and the wisdom that came from being a descendant of the Bearer of Spirit.  I was irritated that he thought I could be like him at all.  But that annoyance seemed to fill me with a bit of resolve to prove him right.

A shadowy figure moved towards us.  Tall and indeterminate, its features seemed to shift rapidly, as if it could not figure out who or what it was.  Fear filled me as I watched it lumber towards us.

“Portal Seeker, you have come.”

The voice that spoke in the language of memory sounded so familiar, a door with my memories seemed to open.  Yet I could not remember where I had heard this voice before and I struggled to reconcile the memory with my own emotions.

Papa held out his hand in greeting much like the Ruffians of our village did.

“Hello, Caretaker.”

The figure seemed to stare past Papa toward me.  Papa noted its attention and motioned me forward to stand next to him.

“Caretaker, may I introduce Lady Portia, Keeper of Stories for the Realm of Original Magic.  Poe, this is the Caretaker of the Realm of Memory.”

It seemed to be inspecting me, reaching out a hand and then placing it on the floor.  For a moment it stood and stared, the features still flickering.  Finally it shrank back.

“It has no magic!” it shrieked.  “How can it claim to be a Keeper of Stories with no magic?”

“She is Wisdom’s child, just like her mother Alexandra Proctor,” Papa countered.  He raised his voice to call to something unseen.  “The memories recall those stories.”

There was a shuddering and a vibration and the floor beneath me seemed to ripple in response.  The Caretaker stepped backwards and sighed.

“Yes,” it said.  “The memories do tell the story.  I must apologize to the Keeper of Stories of the Realm of Original Magic. Come.  The Memory Keeper awaits.”

We followed the Caretaker through the chasm and though I paid attention to where my feet tread, I was aware of the fact that there was some sort of musical humming.  As I tried to concentrate on what the tune was, it seemed to change.  It was as if the strain was every song ever written all at once, creating one cohesive tune that was harmonious and yet discordant all at the same time.  The songs all tugged at visions in my own memory, bringing emotions to the surface that churned within me as I continued to follow the others.

I looked up to watch Papa in front of me, his gray hair waving slightly with every step he took.  I could tell he was taking in every detail, watching everything with those eyes that gave him away as an heir of Douglagal. He was noting everything he could so he could write this adventure in story form.

My mind trickled back to the stories that waited for me in the library at the Seat of Magic.  Most of those had been written in Papa’s hand, meticulously crafted and worded for perpetuity.  I knew the stories that we collected here would be treated the same.  Though I was apprehensive and the music continued to churn other emotions, the thought that I was finally seeing the Realm of Memory kept me grounded.

There was a low growl and the Caretaker stopped.  I looked up to see a vast wall in front of us, larger than anything else in this chasm.  It was as concrete as any of the walls of the Great Hall in the unnamed village back home or the stone fortress that made up the old city of Dephian. Yet, as I stared at it, it flickered just like everything else in this realm.

Nothing was solid with Memory.

The Caretaker bowed and stepped backwards, shuffling away.  Papa turned and looked down at me.  There was a flicker of emotion on his face as he sighed.

“Well, are you ready, Poe?”

“For what?”

“To meet the Memory Keeper and learn its stories?”

“I think so,” I replied.

Papa chuckled at my hesitation as he took a step forward.  Instead of colliding with the wall, he went through it.  And instead of wondering how that happened, I followed impulsively. 

Click here for the next chapter Memory (Available 6 January 2026)

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