Every story I write begins with an image, a spark of imagination that refuses to let go. For The Covenant of the Veil, that spark came from something very real. An old, rusty key I once found in a field.
It was weathered, heavy, and ordinary in some ways, but I couldn’t stop wondering. What did this key once open? Who carried it? What secrets might it have kept locked away? That single object stayed with me, and over time, it transformed into the Atheneum Key.
At first, it was just a vision in my mind. Strange, ancient, and heavy with meaning. I didn’t yet know who held it, or why it mattered, but I knew it belonged at the heart of the story. As I developed the world and its characters, the Atheneum Key evolved from a simple artifact into a symbol of knowledge, power, and legacy.
What fascinates me most about creating objects like this is how they shape the narrative in unexpected ways. For me as a writer, artifacts like the Key serve another purpose. They anchor the imagination. They’re tactile, visual reminders of the unseen forces that drive the story forward. Whenever I found myself lost in the labyrinth of plotting, I could return to that original image, the rusty key in the field, and ask myself questions. What "doors" does it open? What truths does it "unlock"?
In the end, the Atheneum Key is both a literal object and a metaphor. It reminds me that every story is about unlocking something—whether it’s a hidden truth, a character’s inner strength, or a destiny waiting to be fulfilled.
If you stumbled upon a mysterious key, what door would you hope it opened?
No comments:
Post a Comment