Posts from the ‘Beyond the Veil’ Category


It never ceased to amaze Anna the foolish choices people would make. Now, as she watched the one who had summoned her try to perform a spell, she frowned. There were easier, more efficient ways to use his power. However, he seemed determined to do things the more difficult, more wasteful way. Shaking her head, Anna left him to his spell. He could summon another spirit if he wanted to play that game.

Almost there, but not quite.

“Do you remember anything at all about your life in the spirit world?”

“J-just Rune,” I said, rubbing at fresh tears. I seemed to be capable of doing nothing, save crying. My lungs ached with the effort to breathe steadily. “I – I love him. I need to go back to him!”

“Focus on him,” the older prince said. He touched her shoulder and smiled. “Close your eyes and imagine him here. What does he call you?”

I took a shuddering breath and imagined Rune. I could see his soft red hair flowing down his back and into his gray eyes. I could trace the scar down his cheek. I could imagine the scent of him. Then I focused on his firm, deep voice.

“Bellissima,” I said. I rubbed my eyes and looked at Seamus. Shaking my head, I said, “He calls me Bellissima, but that’s not my name either!”

The boy scowled. “It mean ‘most beautiful’,” he said. “It’s a pet name, so: no, it wouldn’t be your true name.” He sighed and shook his head. “Surely he calls you by your name sometimes! Try to remember a time when he did.”

Shelves of memory.

Dayrin hushed my sobs and untied me. “Let’s get you some clothing,” he said. The way he spoke, it was the tone one might use to get a frightened child moving. “Then, you can have something to eat, right?”

He helped me to my feet and guided me to a room. It was small, but it had all I’d need. I stood in front of a mirror, as he moved to get the promised clothing. The longer I was there, the less about myself I seemed to know. It was as though something were sweeping through my mind and wiping out the shelves where every memory was stored.

The story of a flower that has made men mad

Keenan looked at Rylan with a scowl. “She’s called Rose?”

“That’s what the one who gifted her to me said,” Rylan replied.

Rose watched the exchange silently. She looked from Keenan to Rylan and back. Something about the man piqued her interest. As she watched him, she noticed that he was watching her as well.

Did he suspect why she had been sent there? How could he? But then, why was he looking at her like that?

“Roses, in Shynian lore, are like the moon in Terran lore,” he said.


prompt: Life imitating art imitating life

Rose frowned slightly at her reflection. She was a beauty. All of them told her that. However, something about her body felt wrong, almost as if it weren’t real.

She reached out – touched the glass. It was like she was looking through a window at another woman. Her hair and eyes… both wrong. Her hair was white-blond. Her eyes should be green.

“Rose,” a voice said.

She turned away from the mirror. Even her name felt wrong. “No,” she said.

Rylan smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know. Everything about you was crafted as a trap.”

“For… who?”

“Both of us.”

Like a star in chains

“You always have to remember, Dayrin,” his master had told him once, “binding elementals was like trying to chain flames. You might hold them for a little while, but eventually they will break free.”

Dayrin glanced over at Rose. That was the name his master had given her, but they knew it wasn’t her name. That name, like the form she wore, was part of the prison meant to hold her there. If either part failed, she’d be free.

Rose was quiet at the moment. She was sitting still in the room his master had given to her. There was a strange expression on her face, as if she were straining against something that Dayrin couldn’t see. “What are you thinking about Rose?” he asked.

“My name,” Rose said. Her brows furrowed, forming deep creases across her forehead. “My name isn’t Rose. It’s nothing like that. I know that but… I can’t remember it.”

Dayrin nodded. She was straining against the bonds that held her prisoner. How long, Dayrin wondered, would his master be able to keep her contained?


“Spirits of the wind, hear and obey.”

Yori gasped softly when he heard the words. It was so different from a normal summoning. He didn’t feel like someone was simply calling. It was as if they were compelling him to come.

“Rune!” he gasped. Then he was tugged towards the magician. He could feel a physical body wrap around his soul. It felt heavy, like a lead weight keeping him someplace he didn’t want to be.

Only one thought ran through Yori’s mind. This was wrong. This wasn’t a summoning spell. This was a binding spell. “N-no,” he gasped, as his memories began to slip away from him, stripping away his identity.

this weakness and brokenness

Rose, he’d called me. I didn’t remember anything. For all I knew, I was Rose. Somehow, though, that felt wrong. I looked over at my reflection in the mirror and scowled. The long dark hair, the soft brown eyes, the light tan… they all seemed as wrong as the name Rose. It was as if I were looking at a stranger.

I shivered and spun away from the mirror. “It’s not right,” I said, my voice cracking. I brought my hands up to my chest and bumped them against the soft mounds of my breasts. A sob broke free and then I stifled it. These felt wrong too. My breasts shouldn’t be so full.

“Rose,” a soft voice said. “Are you all right?”

I spun again, this time to face the doorway. It was my master’s apprentice, Dayrin. I shook my head and blinked away tears. “It feels wrong here,” I said. I sniffled and rubbed away the tears. “It’s too heavy and I… I don’t feel like I look this way or – or sound this way!”

Dayrin frowned. “It’s all right,” he said, taking a step towards me. I began sobbing in earnest then. As he folded his arms around, I remembered someone else doing the same thing and I fisted my hands into his tunic. “Rune,” I sobbed. “I wanna go home!”