This is the second 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.
To start with the first chapter click here: Chapter One: Adventure
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.Memory
Going through the wall felt like walking through a waterfall, only instead of getting wet, I was disoriented for a few moments. The fact that the cavern we entered was darker than the main chasm didn’t help either. It took an inordinate amount of time to adjust to the darkness, which did not help my discomfiture.
The Memory Keeper looked like a more formidable version of the Caretaker. Like the Caretaker, its features seemed to flicker indeterminately, never once settling on any particular feature long enough for me to understand what or who it was. It sat on some sort of couch-like apparatus, hunched over so that its belly appeared to be hanging over the edge. I wondered if it had feet since I could not see any, though I could see the long claw-like appendages that looked like hands. They reclined upon the floor.
A smaller version sat on the back of the couch, perching like some sort of pet as its own features flickered slowly, though nothing stayed in focus long enough for me to recognize anything. It was childlike in nature, regarding us with a slow blink as the eyes changed color and shape as they seemed to rotate through some sort of reel. A thought suddenly came to my mind that this was the future Memory Keeper.
The music that played here was louder, though the tune was as indeterminate as the features of the creatures. I tried and failed to pick out any sort of melody as the music droned on, still wreaking havoc with my own remembrances and emotions.
Memories were a bit uncertain.
“Greetings, Portal Seeker. Hello, youngest child to Solilune. Welcome to my ending.”
I thought the Keeper was a bit abrupt. I glanced at Papa’s face and noted that he remained stoic. So I took a deep breath and bowed my head.
“Hello, Memory Keeper. It is an honor to witness such an occasion,” I replied. “I hold your position in esteem.”
There was a rumble, almost as if the Memory Keeper was laughing. Its entitled body shook along with the rumble. Finally it spoke.
“You have learned the language of memory well, Lady Portia of the Realm of Original Magic. Your wisdom suits you. What may I do for you?”
There was a slightly menacing tone in the voice as it asked the last question. I blinked, suddenly unsure of myself, and glanced uncomfortably at my father.
“She has come to witness your transition and note it for future generations,” Papa replied. “Is there a place where she can set up?”
“Of course.”
There was a rumble and a table formed, sprouting up from the ground like a plant pushing through soil. A brighter orb stretched down from the ceiling, giving this table formation ample lighting. I blinked as Papa nudged me towards it.
I set my bag on it and pulled out my notepad and pen set. I sat down and then watched my father as he spoke to the Memory Keeper in quiet tones. I could only catch a few words here or there, but from the softness of Papa’s posture and the way he leaned in towards the Memory Keeper, I could tell the two were discussing the Memory Keeper’s impending demise.
It was the first time I got to watch this side of my father. I read the stories of the kind of diplomacy he exuded, the love he shared with everyone else. But to watch him treat someone outside my familiar realms as if they mattered was eye opening. This being was just as much a part of Papa’s magical family as any of us were. It made me reflect on the importance of the adventure once more.
“Shall we begin?” the Memory Keeper said loudly in a manner of fact tone. “Time is fleeting and memories cannot be kept silent.”
Papa nodded and stepped back. I leaned forward, pen poised in my hand to write as I watched whatever magic was about to happen.
The Memory Keeper sighed and a small wispy cloud floated forward. There were whispers as it floated in the air for a moment and I could feel something speak to me, telling me a story.
But before the story became clearer, the smaller Keeper sighed and the cloud flowed towards it. It breathed it in and the story was gone.
“The first memory,” the Memory Keeper hummed.
There seemed to be a spark in the air and I was suddenly inspired to write.
I took my pen in my hand and opened my notebook to a crisp clean page. Words began to form as I noted the way the magic flowed with each memory and the music that seemed to change tune each time I focused on it. I even noted the way my father’s eyes seemed to show every hint of emotion his usual stoicism refused to exude, as if the memories of his own life were playing out in his mind.
A memory flashed within me, one long buried and forgotten. I remembered the exact moment I discovered that I was devoid of any magic. I was ten and hoping to come into some powers, despite my lack of magical inclination up to that point. But because of my parentage, I was sure I had to be magical.
My twin had inherited the sage magic of Papa’s Delphian ancestors. Berh had inherited the magic of Douglagal himself. But I was as common-born as our mother. I remembered the great letdown I felt when I realized I would never hold magic.
I was also sure my father would be just as upset as I was about this realization, but instead he seemed to take it in stride. He began to teach me all about magic just as he did my sister and brother. While my lessons were a bit different given that I could not use magic like Berh and Rena could, I was taught nevertheless.
Mama taught me as well. She taught me to write beautifully and craft the stories Papa had collected into the most wonderful of books. She taught me to defend myself with both words and weapons so that I could help protect our realm even without magic. And I was never regarded as less than by any of our family even though I was common-born.
But the nagging feeling that I was inferior would always remain.
The tuneless music seemed to change tempo and the inspiration I felt to write about my own memory subsided, replaced instead by a tale that seemed to be as old as time itself. I realized I was writing a memory from the olden days.
One of the hums from the Memory Keeper started to form words in my head.
You have become attuned to the magic, little Keeper of Stories.
I blinked.
How did I learn the magic of memories? I thought to myself. The memory of the emotions I felt when I realized I wasn’t magical resurfaced. I felt the devastation and jealousy all over again, mixed with shame and frustration. But there was also this thread of incredulity that was running through it.
I, the common-born daughter of the Portal Seeker, had learned some sort of magic.
With that came the mental reminder that I needed to write down the small tidbits of stories as they filtered through the magic. Words were being hummed again, spoken not in the language of memory but the very magical essence of this place. I understood everything.
I put pen to paper once more.
For several hours, my shorthand scrawled on the pages as memories seemed to flow. But then there was a pregnant pause in the words. As my pen caught up with me, I realized that the Memory Keeper had simply stopped. It was almost as if it had forgotten its train of thought.
The young Keeper remained where it had positioned itself, having grown a bit larger as the ceremony progressed. But the older one seemed worn and haggard, slumped over in its seat like a spent sack. I could see weariness on its face, as its features were more defined and less erratic and less like the other beings that populated this realm.
There was also a distinct look of confusion upon its countenance that caused concern.
“Are you all right?” Papa asked gently.
He stepped forward but then hesitated, his hand reaching out as if he were trying to sense the magic that no longer seemed to flow.
The Memory Keeper’s shoulders heaved.
“I am sorry,” it rasped. “I….. I….. I….. I think I have forgotten. Where am I?” Its eyes darted about, confusion marring its face. “Who are you?”
I could hear the panic in the voice as Papa took a small step back and lowered his hand.
“Old friend, I am Solilune of Delphian.”
I could see the Memory Keeper did not understand. I stood up to reach for the jug of liquid that was nearby, hoping that perhaps a drink would bring the Memory Keeper to its senses.
But as I did so, the Memory Keeper jerked. Its head darted about, looking at everything frantically.
“NO!” it screeched, causing all of us to jump. “Go away! Leave me alone! I want to leave now!”
It began to thrash its appendages, failing about. The young keeper scurried down from its perch, trying to avoid this sudden onset of wrath and chaos.
There was a whoosh and the Caretaker entered, followed by a couple of smaller minions. It cast a spell at the Memory Keeper as the pair moved to usher Papa and I out.
“What was that about?” I asked Papa as we were left in the hallway alone.
He glanced at the wall where the door had just been and blinked, the only emotion on his face.
“I don’t know.”
The door appeared again and the Caretaker emerged, its head bowed.
“Is the Memory Keeper all right?” Papa asked.
There was a loud sigh.
“I am sorry, Portal Seeker and Keeper of Stories. We did not know to mention the kwynva. We thought you knew. Memory fails us in that regard.”
“Kwynva?” I repeated, trying to understand. That was a word that didn’t translate. “What is that?”
“It means loss of memory,” the Caretaker stated. “Because of the impending demise, the Memory Keeper’s mind is breaking. Memory is lost. It fades.”
“Is it something like dementia?” I asked.
There was a long nod.
“That is your word, not one we would use. But, yes. It is a process like that. The old Memory Keeper must go through this process though. The memories are then shared as they filter through the breaks to the young Memory Keeper. It must be done.”
“I thought the magic I witnessed was memory leaving the old one,” I countered.
The Caretaker shook its head again.
“Yes,” it said. “That is a memory share. But only the stories told can be shared that way. The old memories, the ones only the memory keeper can hold alone, must be broken down first. Then they will be passed to the young one. It means the kwynva must pass too. It is terribly painful. But it must be done.”
“Can I help with the pain?” Papa asked.
“No. The pain forces the oldest memories forward. This is part of the story, as you would say. But we should have been more clear with what the Memory Keeper will endure.”
I yawned and remembered belatedly to cover my mouth.
“It is late,” the Caretaker announced. “The Memory Keeper is depleted now. Once restored, the kwynva will be easier to deal with. You should rest too.”
Papa nodded.
“Some food and rest may do us all good.”
We were shown to a room with two berth-like structures and a smaller table-like structure between them. There was a tray of some gel substance on the table. Papa picked up one of the containers and tentatively tasted it.
“It’s sustenance,” Papa murmured. “It may not taste great but it’s edible and will help keep us both going.”
With that, he dumped the contents into his mouth and swallowed.
I gulped down what I could despite the fact that I didn’t like the taste. I grabbed my canteen and chugged down some water to wash away the taste as Papa smiled.
“That wasn’t very pleasant,” I murmured.
“I know. But we need to keep our strength up for the adventure ahead.”
I nodded as I yawned again and apologized.
Papa shook his head as a small smile graced the scarred face.
“You are tired, Poe,” he replied. “You have expended a great deal of energy taking down the memories too. Some rest will do you good.”
He pulled two blankets out of his pack. He handed one to me and then leaned forward to kiss my forehead.
“Get some sleep,” he said, motioning to the head of my berth, where a lump formed into a pillow. “You will need it. Hopefully, the Memory Keeper will be better after a rest as well.”
I nodded as I pulled the blanket about me and put my head down.
“Good night, Papa,” I murmured.
“Good night, little love.”
I closed my eyes as the ambient light in the room seemed to dim and was fast asleep.
Click here for the next chapter Loss (Available 8 January 2026)
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