The Keeper by ashvillia on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

In the heart of a long-forgotten forest, where time seemed to stand still and the very air shimmered with an otherworldly energy, stood a colossal figure, half-ruined and half-alive. It was neither statue nor creature, but something in between—a guardian, a watcher of things lost to memory and dust. Its face, shaped by the intertwined roots and vines of ancient trees, had the delicate features of a long-slumbering deity.

Where its eyes should have been, there were two radiant voids, swirling with vibrant hues of violet and magenta. It was as if the remnants of every dream, every hope that had ever been abandoned, had gathered there, caught in the delicate web of roots and blossoms that adorned its face like a crown. From those empty sockets, light poured forth, casting strange, shifting patterns onto the ruins that lay scattered around its feet.

These were not ordinary ruins. Once, long ago, they had been a grand citadel, a place of knowledge and power where seekers of wisdom came to unlock the mysteries of existence. Now, crumbled arches and ivy-covered walls were all that remained, a testament to the relentless passage of time. Yet, even in decay, the place held a certain beauty, a melancholy grace that spoke of what once was and what could never be again.

The Keeper stood silent and unmoving, its gaze—if it could be called that—fixed on something far beyond the physical realm. It had no eyes to see with, yet it saw everything. It saw the ebb and flow of life, the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of stars. And it held them all, suspended in those glowing, hollow eyes.

As the wind whispered through the trees and petals fell like tears from the branches above, a lone figure approached. Clad in a robe of deep crimson, the figure moved slowly, reverently, as if each step were a prayer. She came to a halt before the Keeper, lifting her face to its immense, ancient visage.

"Do you remember?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the soft rustle of leaves. She knew it couldn’t answer, yet she felt the weight of its presence, a silent acknowledgement of her words.

The Keeper’s gaze flared, the light within its eyes pulsing like a heartbeat. And for a moment—a single, breathless moment—the ruins around them shifted. The vines and blossoms that wound through the broken stones shimmered and parted, revealing a vision of the citadel as it once was: towering, majestic, alive with the hum of voices and the glow of arcane energy. The girl’s breath hitched as she saw the figures moving within, indistinct yet familiar.

Then, just as quickly, the vision faded, leaving only the ruins and the Keeper, standing as it had always stood, guarding memories that had long since turned to shadows.

The girl bowed her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Thank you," she murmured. The Keeper didn’t move, but she felt it—the faintest whisper of gratitude, a ripple of shared understanding.

She turned away, leaving the Keeper to its vigil. The flowers on its face trembled in the wind, their colors deepening in the light of the ever-shifting eyes. And as she walked away, the light dimmed, the vibrant hues retreating back into the depths of the Keeper’s gaze.

The girl glanced over her shoulder one last time, watching as the Keeper resumed its silent, eternal watch over the forgotten dreams of the world. For that’s what it was, she realized: a guardian of what had been lost, a keeper of hopes and wishes that had faded away, cradling them in its empty gaze until the end of time.

She left the forest feeling lighter, knowing that some things, even when forgotten, were never truly lost.

And the Keeper remained, its hollow eyes glowing softly, holding onto dreams that no longer had a place in the world—dreams that would continue to bloom and flourish in the Keeper’s embrace, forever safe in the sanctuary of forgotten things.