A Misty Memory Novels & Stories

This was why I had built boundaries, why I maintained a distance, and why I never allowed my emotions to blur the lines that needed to remain clear. And yet, for just a reckless second, I had wanted to close that gap. I had wanted to discover the feel of her lips on mine. The earlier knock at the door replayed in my mind....not just the sound but the timing. Perfect. Too perfect. Regina’s composed, apologetic face came to mind. “I forgot my tablet,” she’d said, her gaze darting between us just long enough to notice the tension. Of course she remembered. Regina never missed a thing.

I allowed my old self to enter as I opened my eyes and focused as she had asked. The room looked like a hologram or multiple streams of memories that were making their way back in my head. Some of the memories were a fraction because the only clear face I could see was Adam. I moved around looking at every emotion in the memories that were flashing before my eyes. I was beginning to remember my brother and the memories were not stopping. I looked at each flash one by one as the pieces were coming into place before I stopped and looked at the one that had triggered me. I walked closer as I focused on the memory once more.

Then he looked at his Dad “D-dad.” “Thank God you remember me.” “Kuya. What about me?” This time it was Gravity “Gravity.” He called “W-What happened to me? why is that, why do I remember so little. I can't remember everything?” I cried, he can’t remember. He can only remember little “Kuya do you remember her?” Gravity pointed me to his brother “Answer me!” “Don’t shout Grav..” I said “I-I don't I’m sorry... who are you?” He looked at me

she turned back to the table picked up the file and headed to the door. "You talk about second chance but Fidelia couldn't get that second chance" his voice shook as he said this Jess halted as she heard that statement. That name brought back some memories for her also. "Who's Fidelia?" She turned sharply "Nevermind" He wasn't ready to go down into details right now Jess left his cubicle without saying another word.Some people are more hard to crack than nuts.

A criminal, you could say. Oddly, the memory loss brought me relief. It was as if I had lost a tremendous burden. However, Isa only cried harder at that. "Don't speak of him anymore. I do not want to hear another word about that bastard," she said. Wiping away her tears, she added, "It's good that you've forgotten about him. You're better off without him! Good men aren't hard to find—there are tons way better than him!" She sniffled and forced a smile. "When you've recovered, I'll take you to meet the Elven Guard! Every single one of them is strong in magic and devastatingly handsome!"

But the harder I concentrated, the more the image seemed to slip, edges softening, details blurring, as if some part of my own mind was actively working against me the moment I tried to look at it directly. That should have told me something on its own. It took until nearly dawn for it to actually register. I closed my eyes and tried to walk myself back through the night Silvermist burned, the way Mogra had taught me to walk through any memory I needed to examine cleanly, start at the edges, work inward, don't let emotion distort the sequence of events. I'd done this exercise a hundred times over the years, whenever grief threatened to overwhelm the discipline she'd spent years building into

The boundary between memory and reality seemed increasingly fragile, threatening to snap at any moment. Determined to find answers, Lyra immersed herself in researching Nyxterra. In Elysium, where secrets and memories were traded like currency, Nyxterra was known only as a legend—an obscure tale whispered among Memory Seekers and Brokers. It was said to be the graveyard of forgotten memories, a place where the mind’s darkest corners merged with the physical world. Yet, despite its ominous reputation, concrete knowledge about Nyxterra was scarce. Official records mentioned it only in passing, and the few who claimed to know about it refused to speak openly.

It was faint now, dulled and muted, like ink faded by time. She tried to remember the exact feel of it—the sting of his bite, the warmth of his lips after, the way his arms had crushed her close as if he would never let her go. But memory slipped like sand through her fingers. The fog laughed at her, pulling her back into its embrace. But she was determined to get a hold of the evasive memory. She didn't like the confused state of her mind. She wanted to know the truth. Wanted to be sure what she was hearing was the truth.

“But you might have to.” “No,” I whisper. “Not yet.” A crack splits the floor between us. We both jolt back as a thin ribbon of black mist slips through the crack, weaving between our feet like a serpent. “What is that?” Elyra breathes. The mist coils upward. Shapes form inside it, faint, flickering figures. A man bleeding from the throat. A woman clawing at invisible walls. A wolf howling in agony. They are echoes, memories of past players.

I'm no good for him right now. Mykel stands there for a second longer before walking away. Once the door close behind him, leaving me alone in the dark, my eyes close shut, letting my head fall. My lips quiver, holding back a sob that wanted to come out. My thoughts return back to the old memories of Misty, knowing that memories are all I have now. **** *** ** As the next two days past, I continue to sit here in the dark cabin. My tears have dried up, unable to cry any more tears, but the pain I feel inside will never dry.