Keeper of Memories, Chapter Four: Home

This is the final 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.

Home

As I gathered my wits about me, I discovered that Papa and I were now in the midst of his cousin Neriah’s living room in the Magister’s Quarters in the city of Delphian.  So many memories flooded me as I laid there, panting with exertion under the weight of my father.  I could remember in a second every single moment I sat in this room through the many years of visits.  I could remember sights and sounds, tastes and touches, emotions that were rampant.  But I tried to shake these memories away as I focused on the task I needed to complete.

I looked up to see my father’s best friend and her daughter staring at us from their spots on the furniture.  Both of them had looks of shock on their faces.

“What happened?” Neriah asked as Aleecia jumped to action.  “Are you hurt?”

“I’m not,” I sighed, struggling to wriggle out from under Papa’s still body.  “But Papa is.  We were in the Realm of Memory.  I told him to get us home.”

Aleecia helped me and then began to cast spells on Papa.  Neriah sent a few servants with instructions to the extended family and then turned to face me, her face stern with fear and her ice blue eyes showing concern for me.

“Well, he did you get you home,” she finally replied as she checked me over with a spell.  “Just not the home you were expecting.”

Memories that were not my own swirled like snatches. Papa as a child playing with Neriah in rooms like these. Robbie’s first steps. Templeton’s final breaths. The grief from Darius’ death. Lyka recovering and facing her mother. I saw every moment of Neriah’s remembrances here.  I shook my head again.

“Will he be all right?” I asked, glancing at the slumped figure of Papa fearfully.  “Tell me you can help him.”

Aleecia looked up at me from where she was kneeling next to Papa. She nodded, though her expression was grave.

“He’s lost a great deal of blood and has a concussion and a couple of broken ribs that need treated, but he’s still alive.  We’ll take care of him.”

I shivered, shuddering with the weight of the memories I held.

Neriah noticed the movement.  She turned back to look at me again and put her hand out.  I knew she was using magic to assess me anew.

“Poe, are you okay?” she asked.

“I will be,” I murmured.  “I’m tired.  I um…. The magic there… it…”

“It wore you out, that’s what it did,” Neriah sighed.  “You’re exhausted. Come!”

After some hustle and bustle, a great deal of sage magic, and a little more explaining, I soon found myself tucked into bed in Neriah’s guest room, under strict orders to rest.  Papa had been carried to the Sage’s Keep so that our family there could keep vigil over him.  Simon the Key Keeper sent his son Cephas to the Realm of Original Magic to get word to Mama back home.

As I laid in bed and finally had time to process, the stories within my mind began to swim and collide with each other.  I felt as though my brain was going to burst from all of the thoughts and dreams, stories and remembrances that flowed through me.  I just knew I had to get them out onto paper so that I could begin to make sense of them all.

I jumped from bed.  Fumbling with lighting the lantern, I ran to the small table and found a pen and some paper. I hastily began to write, trying my best to get the magic of the memories I had been saddled with out onto paper.

Some time in the middle of the night, Neriah came to check in on me and saw the papers already beginning to pile on the writing desk.  I knew from the look on her face that she wanted to say something, but then she sighed and just shook her head.  She picked up one of the papers and began to read that then promptly put it down and left.  A little while later, she entered again, bringing me more paper and ink.  Her servant brought food and drink to sustain me.

Occasionally throughout the next day, my family members came to check on me.  Mama kissed my forehead and chatted for a few moments when she saw I needed a break.  Rena cast a spell on me to help heal some of the aches and pains.  Berh used his magic on the lamps to keep them burning as I worked through the night again.  Food and beverage were brought and consumed and I dozed a little when the memories would let me.  But I was left mostly to my own devices as ink danced onto the paper and the words that formed the memories continued to flow.  I filled paper after paper.  Story after story seemed to fall off effortlessly as I scribbled each down as fast as I could, just like Papa did after every adventure.

I was so entranced in my writings the second morning that while I did hear the door open and a tray be put down, I didn’t realize that someone was waiting for me.  After what seemed like an eternity, there was a gentle cough.  I looked up.

“I thought you could use a little break,” Papa said with a soft smile.

The color was back in his face, though the black of the brand-new tunic he wore made his face look drawn and colorless.  His long locks hung down his shoulders and the owl on his medallion flowed once again in the sunlight that streamed through the Quarter’s windows.

Though I knew just by looking at him that he was not fully back to his original strength, I sighed with relief as I put the pen down. My muscles cried out as they were pulled into a standing position and I had to momentarily stretch them.  I then ran around the table and dove into his arms, acutely aware that he seemed a bit frailer than usual.  I felt him flinch slightly as I squeezed my arms about his chest and I loosened my grip.

“Should you be up and about?” I asked as I pulled away.

“Probably not,” he murmured. “As you can guess, I’m still healing. But I wanted to check on you. I heard you were up most of the last two nights.”

I pressed my ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he wrapped his arms around me again.

“Berh went back to the Portal of Memory,” he murmured.  “He sent word via Rena that the new Keeper has been situated and the old one is gone.  He will be bringing back all of our things as well, since we left them there. The Caretaker asked about you.  It was worried that the memories you absorbed in that final spell may have been too powerful.”

“I’m fine,” I replied.

“I can sense that.  You’re exhausted, but physically you are fine.”  He kissed the top of my head.  “But I am worried about you regardless, my little love.”

“I will be fine, Papa,” I murmured.  “The Memory Keeper is gone?”

“Yes.  It was time.”

I sighed, letting myself mourn the loss of the being.  It brough me some solace that the memories would live on, but I was saddened that the end had come nevertheless.

Papa gave me one final squeeze and then let go of me, moving towards the table.  He picked up one of my papers and began to skim it with those crystalline eyes.  I felt self-conscious as he did so, trying to appear nonchalant as he read.

“I could have brought these to you if I knew you were wanting to read them,” I said, picking nervously at one of the papers that was about to fall to the floor.

“I know,” he replied.  “But I wanted to see you in your element.  Neriah mentioned you reminded her of me at your age.  She said you get your tenacity and a certain look of determination from me.”  He let out a small chuckle. “I never could hide my emotions from her.” 

He gently placed down the paper he had skimmed and picked up another. He glanced at it and looked up at me again.

“Your writing reminds me so much of my mother’s,” he murmured.  “Not just the handwriting itself, but the way you form your words and put your sentences together.  It’s fitting you were her namesake.  You write well.”

I shrugged.

“I was taught by the best,” I replied, gesturing to him.

Papa chuckled again.

“Yes, you were.  Your mama has taught you well in more ways than one.”  He winked at me.  “I may have helped a bit too.  But you are also very much like your eponym.  You are patient until you need to be impudent.  You are fierce even though you are small.  And even without magic, you are very powerful.”

I shook my head.

“I am not,” I replied.  “I am the weakest of your children.  I can’t do anything magical. I couldn’t even come to your rescue when you were attacked!”

“My strong little warrior,” he murmured.  “You did that very thing though.  You kept me alive despite struggling with the weight of the memories you now hold and are trying to release.  You took charge when I could not.  And you brought me home.”

He held up the memory that was between his fingers.   I winced at the number of ink splotches and mistakes on it. But there were tears glistening in the crystal eyes behind the paper and I found myself catching my breath at this show of emotion from him.

“Poe, you write beautifully.  You capture the essence that is every memory so that they will live on.  Though the Memory Keeper is gone and a new one takes its place, you too have become a Keeper of Memories.” He looked down at the pile of papers that were strewn everywhere and smiled.  “And that is truly a beautiful thing.  To be able to write the stories of those long gone is to keep them alive. Your words are powerful, magical even.”

He looked up at me again. 

“And you, the only child born of the Portal Seeker that inherited no magic from him, inherited something far more beautiful. You inherited the magic that comes from knowing how to be strong and bold and brave with the pen.”

“Oh, Papa,” I whispered as I stepped forward again.

I could feel the tears stinging my eyes.

He reached out his arms and pulled me into a hug once more.  I listened to his heartbeat as I felt him cast a blessing spell on me.

“I’m proud of you, Poe, my little light,” he whispered, his voice booming as I pressed my ear to his chest. “It is an honor to have been able to share this adventure with you.”

I closed my eyes and let his love wash over me as the memories stirred once more, begging to be recorded.

“Me too, Papa.  Me too.”

And while we shared a few more mundane adventures together, I continued to work as the Keeper of Stories, collecting the stories of the realms as the magic seekers brought them. I recorded them as faithfully as I recorded the memories I kept and the stories I could tell myself. I continued this endeavor through marriage and protecting my own realm from the horrors of evil. I remained the Keeper of Stories and the Keeper of Memories all while parenting my two sons, teaching them to honor the sacrifices that had been made to keep the stories going.  With each page of every memory and story that I wrote, I remembered that though I was but the common-born child of the Portal Seeker, I was just as powerful as my siblings. 

For I held the magic of the memory within my grasp.  That magic is a powerful thing.

Thanks for reading! Want to know more about Solilune of Delphian, the Portal Seeker or any of the other characters mentioned by Poe? Check out their stories:

The Portals Series

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