SYMPHONY OF DAWN

  Imaginations of Worlds Beyond

  Copyright © 2025 Lorraine Tramain

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this anthology are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this anthology 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 publisher.

  Cover design by Kyra Terry

  Illustrations by Ali Collins

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Epigraph

  Symphony of Dawn (Imaginations of Worlds Beyond, #1)

  WINTERSTORM

  ICE KING

  MOONLIGHT

  THE FAY

  CHILD IN THE LIGHT

  AM I LOST?

  SYMPHONY OF DAWN

  ONE

  EDGE OF FAITH

  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  About the Author

  Greetings!

  Thank you for picking up a copy of this first collection of Imaginations of Worlds Beyond.

  These short stories are based on the music and lyrics of the Belgian symphonic metal band Worlds Beyond, written and published with their knowledge and consent, and I recommend listening to the respective song in their album Symphony of Dawn while reading for a full immersive experience.

  The themes of the stories range from exploring the paranormal and fantastical to the deepest human emotions, such as love, devotion, sorrow, and grief. Each has their own main character and conclusion, and are in no way related to each other.

  Minor trigger warnings apply throughout, except for the last story, which has mentions of murder, violence, and a suicide.

  I hope you enjoy the sentiment behind the songs and stories as much as I do and share with your loved ones.

  Kindest regards,

  Your author,

  Lorraine

  WINTERSTORM

  ‘t Was the first night of the Winterstorm. Blood had to be spilt. When a life is taken on the first night of the Winterstorm, the spirits of Frost and Ice destroy all in their path, to the great delight of their King. I should have known the spirits would come. They always do. They take someone grieving. Someone hurting, with no desire to live anymore. Someone like me.

  I heard them first at sundown — a whisper, barely audible. I looked outside but saw no one. I was alone. I was always alone.

  My parents, my children, my husband... all were dead. I was blamed for their deaths because I was the sole survivor of the plague that took them and half our village. Witch, they called me now. I was an outcast. No one would care if I died that night. No one would bury my body, nor weep at my shroud.

  The sky darkened outside. The winds billowed and howled. My fire burned out. I hadn’t the urge to light it anew. I lay down to sleep, hoping I would ne’er wake again. Yet as my eyes closed, I heard a voice singing — my mother’s dulcet voice.

  Hastily, I stepped outside, and there she was. She looked so beautiful, her hair up in ribbons, her favourite blue dress on. Her song rushed through me. Before I knew it, I left the safety of my home, venturing into the dead of night, mesmerised by her aria.

  The cold didn’t bother me, though it should have, as I was only in my thin shift. I did not perceive the sting of the prickly bushes against my bare skin or the low-hanging branches of trees as I brushed past them. Leaves and pines rustled, sticking to my hair. It was as if I was walking into a dream whilst being wide awake.

  Was I scared, you ask? No, not at all. I felt safe for the first time in months.

  As I walked, another voice joined my mother’s song. I looked around and saw my little girl, who had died in my arms. How I missed her. I longed so very much to hold her, kiss her, and tell her the same stories my mother used to tell me. Her long black hair fluttered in the gale, and she beckoned me closer.

  But as I did, she moved further away, further up the cliffs. I wanted to call out to her. To warn she shouldn’t move so close to the edge, for she would surely fall. My words were drowned out by the loud crashing sound of the waves against the rocks below. Sharp rocks that had seen many a ship to their watery grave.

  My daughter’s voice died away. I whispered her name, panicked at her silence. My mind cautioned me not to continue, but my heart was overcome by the sight of my little girl. I had to be with her.

  But as I ventured beyond what the safety of the treeline, another figure appeared. My eyes widened upon recognising my love. Oh, he looked so handsome. Green eyes that could pierce your soul. Wavy yellow hair, which he had passed on to our boy. Strong arms, once used to hold me with at night. I hadn’t felt another’s touch since his passing. The sight of him stirred me, desire overtaking all sanity.

  I leapt towards him, my feet halting just at the very edge of the cliffs. I reached for my husband, for my mother, for my daughter. They smiled down at me. I heard their laughter around me. Their voices once more sang the eery ballad which had led me here. A flash of lightning illuminated the dark sky.

  I recoiled in horror. The beings before me weren’t my loved ones. How could they be? They had all died long ago. Whoever, or whatever, stood before me was not real. Then I remembered the stories my mother used to tell me.

  ‘Frost and Ice come on the night of the first Winterstorm. They spill the blood of the one with a broken heart as a sacrifice to their King.’

  “Come with us,” the spirits spoke, their hissing voices resonating low amid crystalline laughter. “You have nothing left. Why live a mortal life alone? Be with those you long for. Hold them again.”

  I wanted nothing more. But I heard my mother’s words in my head.

  ‘The spirits care for none but their King. They seek blood. They may promise you your heart’s desire, yet they bring only sorrow. Do not heed their call. When you see Frost and Ice, you run away, my child. Run away.’

  The laughing spirits drew closer, as did the Winterstorm. The sea roared below, the thunder above. Chills ran all over my paralysed body. My breath caught.

  Would death really be so bad? I had no one here who cared for me. No one would come looking if I allowed Frost and Ice to take me. But could I allow the land to be left at their deadly mercy? Could I leave this world for the next, knowing the terrors my spilt blood would bring upon all who lived here?

  I ran.

  Away from the spirits and their haunting laughter. Away from the cliffs and the sea, through the forest, back to the safety of my home. The Winterstorm hollered through the night but did not touch the land we lived upon. Frost and Ice had failed their King. Despite their outrage, they left me at peace.

  But never again would I forget their song.

  Never again would I forget their laughs.

  Never again would I forget their false promise.

  And never again would I forget the Winterstorm can be held at bay as long as you keep courage and love within your heart.

  ICE KING

  Up in the high north, at the edge of our world, a spirit of magnificent power roams. He holds the power to turn sweet summers into harsh winters. To captivate one’s heart and hold it forever in his grasp whilst having no heart of his own.

  Once you fall under his curse, you never break free. For in his world, his horrible, wondrous world, you find your fantasies realised. You find you are the person you have always wanted to become. Until you realise the only reason your fantasy lives is so it can die. So you can die. And your soul belongs to him for all eternity.

  He is the wicked man no woman can allow herself to love. The devil all men fear. The beast that stalks the moonlit nights of winter. He is the Ice King.

  He appears to me in a dream, calling me. I have never heard a more alluring voice. His promise of freedom, beauty, and love seeps through, and when I wake, all I crave is to be at his side. I leave the warmth of my home and go in search of him.

  Whenever I think of myself as lost, his voice sets me on the right path. When I believe I will die, he lifts me up and provides me with all I need to continue my journey. I do not feel cold, despite walking barefoot in the snow, with only a yellow winter gown and my auburn hair braided around my head like a crown. The Ice King’s curse has already begun to take hold of my heart, and I come to desire nothing but the cold around me. His cold.

  I finally rest at a frozen lake. The greens and blues of the northern lights above me are the most enchanting I have ever seen. I wish to be part of those lights, dancing with them in the skies. Then I hear something behind me. Someone walks towards me, the snow crunching ever so lightly under his feet. I dare not turn around, for I know who it is. Despite my curiosity and longing, I admit I am frightened to face him.

  I sit quietly, holding my breath until the Ice King appears before me. I gasp at his beauty. Hair whiter than the whitest snow. A sharp yet kind-looking face with high cheekbones and perfect lips. Piercing blue eyes, with a bit of grey at the edges, draw me to him. Pale skin with a faint glow, like a bright diamond. Ice crystals grace his arms and chest like finely detailed drawings on paper. He wears nought but simple white linen. Any man would have frozen to death had he dared to walk about like this in the heart of winter. But he is not any man.

  The Ice King holds out his hand for mine. He speaks no words, yet I know what he intends. I reach for him, and he pulls me closed. He holds me in his arms, and I believe — I know — I am safe. It no longer matters what becomes of me as long as I am with him. Even if it is just for a single moment.

  The snow at our feet swirls and lifts us into the air. He keeps me pressed against his muscled body, taking away all my fears. We rise higher and higher until we soar amidst the winter lights. The colours play around us, their soft melody bringing peace and comfort to my soul.

  From above, I perceive the blanket of snow below, covering all there is to see. The rivers and lakes are frozen, trapping their waters as it rushes beneath the surface. It is the most breathtaking sight. Magical, yet deadly.

  The Ice King lifts my chin, and I meet his gaze. I cannot resist the enchantment he has placed upon my heart. Nor do I want to. Even if it means I am to die after giving in to my desire, after giving in to my fantasy. To him. The lights seem to fade around me as he draws me closer to him. Finally, his lips brush mine.

  A vision appears to me. And suddenly, I remember. This is not the first time he had called me to him. This is not the first time we’ve met. I know the Ice King well. For I am the Sun Queen. I am his enemy.

  I am his one and only.

  When my King calls me to him, we make love in the realm of the winter lights he creates only for me. From our union, the land below flourishes and is reborn. The rays of sun I carry along with me banish his winter. He is cross with me for bringing summer to his winter.

  When my King takes back the land to hold it in his icy grasp, I hate him for taking away all I have created from our love. I erase him from my memory, determined to love another. Anyone but him. But it is in vain.

  The heart I share for the both of us beckons him to me. I am his, and he is mine. We cannot live together, yet we cannot live apart. So we play this game of ours, over and over again, until one will eventually triumph over the other.

  Until one will forever cast out the other.

  Until one becomes the sole ruler of this world.

  MOONLIGHT

  She was named Luna, after the moon. She had always found her name strange, but no longer. Now she understood. For it was not her mother or father who gave her that name, but the moon herself. A single moonbeam had found its way through the curtain to where a newborn baby lay and had left a crescent imprint upon her heart. A mark which had protected Luna in the faithful incident that robbed her of a loving family but a month after her arrival on this earth.

  Since that night, Luna’s dreams were no ordinary dreams. Each month, they came to life when the moon shone brightest. The fairy tales she read at night helped her escape to the world the moon had created for her. They helped her escape the lonely world between the four walls of the orphanage that was her home.

  Yet sometimes, the fairy tales were not enough. Nightmares would haunt Luna as she slept. Nightmares filled with demons and other creatures that frightened the little girl. But the moon was always there to keep her safe, hidden behind the clouds in the dark blue sky, ever-present amongst the stars.

  Luna would dream of many wondrous things. Of spreading her wings with the eagles high above, riding the open plains with wild horses, swimming underwater with mermaids and dolphins. How she longed for every full moon where she could live amongst her fantastical imaginations as one of their own. But one night, Luna’s dream changed everything.

  Her music box was set beside her bed to play its sweet melody. Luna drifted to sleep, hoping the moon would once again take her to a place where she could be whoever or whatever she desired. And sure enough, she had barely closed her eyes before she awoke amidst the moss and fallen leaves of an unknown forest under a clear sky. Much to Luna’s surprise, she discovered she was no longer a little girl, but a woman grown with a feather-white dress and long golden hair bound by white flowers and butterflies.

  Luna rose to her bare feet and began to explore all around her. It did not take long before she discovered she was not alone. A sound echoed through the woods. A... strangely familiar sound. She searched from where it came. She peered between the trees and saw a young man playing a tiny toy violin. The sound... It was music from the violin! How quaint a toy violin could play music like this.

  Suddenly, Luna heard another sound. Another instrument playing the same melody. She continued her way and stumbled upon another young man. He, too, held a toy instrument. The light strumming of strings stopped as he looked up at Luna. He gave her a nod and motioned her to continue. When Luna looked in the direction he had pointed toward, she saw a wooden bridge had appeared before her.

  Hesitantly, Luna took a few steps. But an inexplicable fear gripped her heart, and holding the tears, Luna ran away, back the way she came. But she did not find the young man who had guided her to the bridge. Nor the other man with the violin. Were the trees even the same? No... No, they had changed. She was not where she had been before. This was another path. A path leading further into the woods.

  As Luna wandered, she heard the music again. She beheld a third man, who eyed her with the same inquisitiveness as she looked at him. The little guitar he held played the same tune she heard all around her.

  She walked on and... yes, there! Another musician, his fingers moving nimbly over the keys of a miniature keyboard. He looked up briefly as Luna passed him, but said nothing. He let the music speak for him.

  Still trying to understand what the moon was trying to tell her, Luna continued down the path. By the time she passed yet another young man setting up a small drum set, Luna had decided she had to wake up. This was no dream. The dreams had never been like this before. They had never been so mysterious, so... scary.

  Her eyes searched for a way out, for the door she had to open to wake up. But Luna found nothing. Nothing except... the wooden bridge. The same fear as before gripped Luna’s heart. Then, all of a sudden, she heard it. The music those strangers had played on their toys in the woods. It was so clear that she now recognised its sweet melody. Her music box! It was here with her! And it was... beyond the bridge!

  Her fear disappeared, only courage now controlling her heart. Luna ran to the bridge, determined to get to her beloved music box. But as she reached the top, she froze. On the other side, walking towards her with the music box in hand, she saw... herself. Not her reflection, but the child she was, dressed in white and with flowers in her hair.

  They met in the middle of the bridge, and her child-self handed Luna the closed music box. She accepted it curiously and meant to ask what she had to do. But when Luna looked back at her child-self, no one was before her. She was alone again. Luna carefully wound the music box up and opened the lid. Inside lay a toy microphone. This was not what she had expected.

  Nor had she expected to see them again. But there they were, beyond the bridge. The five young men had gathered and appeared to be waiting for something. No, not something. Someone...

  They had been awaiting Luna. They had been awaiting their nightingale.

  That was 20 years ago. Since then, Luna has often sung the song the moonlight left within her heart the night she was born. The tears she cried for what she had lost yet never knew dried. And she never gave in to the fear again.

  THE FAY

  Some call us angels, but we are far from celestial. We are born from the first laugh and the first tear. From mortal emotion into immortal being, bound forever to the earth. In deep forests, we dwell, hidden by the mysteries of nature.

  You may hear our songs carried on the wind; sweet melodies carried on a soft breeze or rousing ballades in the fiercest storm. In the water, you see our reflections, gone in the blink of an eye yet ever-present. In the sun and stars, you feel our warm glow as we guide you onward to the path of the righteous.

  Long have we walked this world. Through the ages, we have seen the forces once contained in Pandora’s box gain strength, causing this once beautiful realm to fall into chaos and despair.

  As we were once born from a child’s laughter and cry, so too were others born from much more obscure dwellings. The ghouls from haunting memories you cannot seem to escape, no matter how hard you may try to forget. The tricksters from misguided minds, brought forth by blind faith and lies, spread like a deadly virus. The ogres and monsters you have convinced yourself are not real because you do not wish to see them. Yet the terrors are closer than you could imagine.

 

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