A Boulevard of Lost Memories

The wind whistled through the skeletons and remains of ancient buildings, an echoing scream of a time long passed.  With careful steps I walked across broken stone and hard, packed dirt.  Deeper into the once great town I ventured, a mixture of awe and melancholy building within my chest.  Even after hundreds of years, the place still held a fragment of its former beauty.  The hints of a people who cared not just for each other but for their surroundings, the love that still lingered in the architecture of flowing buildings.
A land of peace torn asunder by the rise of evils that had sprouted and grown around them. 
Something harder than rock underneath my feet interrupted my thoughts, and I carefully reached down with a gauntlet covered hand.  I tentatively brushed away the dust and nature's debris, a hint of dirty silver and studded emeralds glinted up at me from the midday sun looming above.  With two fingers I gave it a small tug, and I lifted the small artifact closer for inspection.  A locket, heart shaped and missing its chain, with a crack running partially across its center face.  Any defining features or inscriptions had been worn away ages ago, and the release mechanism was gummed up with dirt.  After considering the soiled surface, I took to running my fingers over it to gently shake off the coating.  And in the process I found to my dismay that the edges had since long been stamped shut. 
With a frown I tried to pry it open, fingers gripping uselessly at the sides.  Enough weight had been put on it, repeatedly, to seal it away from prying eyes.  Perhaps from the feet of fleeing civilians?  Or had the thunderous pounding of monstrous limbs trampled it into submission? 
I bit my bottom lip to prevent a frustrated sigh from emerging, and closed my eyes to focus on the locket in my hand.  A deep breath in, a long breath out, letting my awareness seep into my surroundings.  Here, surrounded by destruction and death and the decay of a civilization, I was in my element.  Feeling the echo of blood on the locket, long since removed visually by nature, the tiny forces of life and death coated across the metal that I reached for, letting my will wash over them.  With a mental twist I exerted change, letting my will shape reality itself. 
I opened my eyes to look at the black sludge that I had formed over the locket.  A precise flick and it began to flow, seeping into the infinitesimally small gap between the edges.  And a simple command was all that was needed for the sludge to expand, push, strain, and in a heartbeat the locket popped open in an audible snap. 
Sighing, I released my power.  With a snap of my wrist I shook the sludge free and brought the locket closer in one fluid motion, and in dwindling excitement I peered into the surprisingly empty recess.  Instead of a photo, there was a piece of cloth wedged into one side.  The other was home to an etching featuring a strand of numbers that I did not recognize.  A code?  A serial identifier? 
I slowly traced my fingers over the scratchings; I could feel the echoes of feelings.  This was something important to whoever made it.  A reminder of death?  No, the feelings were…joyous.  They evoked within me a sense of mornings spent with Sel, of soft murmurs that made my heart race.  A memory to be cherished, a moment captured during a time when everything was breaking. 
The cloth was similar in feel, silken smoothness tinted with anxiety.  Worry.  Love.  A piece of a larger whole, an event, multiple people's emotions merged into one, defying the test of time.  A joining ceremony, perhaps?  It felt like the kind of ornate material the clothes would be made from, and the feelings were like the stories people told afterwards.   
With a gentle pinch, I sealed the locket, tucking it into one of the pouches on my hips. 
The world needs more reminders, after all, I thought with a glance at the ruins around me. 
"Morana?" Sel's voice broke the silence. 
"Yes?" 
"We should move on before it gets dark.  I didn't see any dens in the open, and getting ambushed would not be ideal." 
"It wouldn't be, no," I agreed with a sigh.  "We'll let the men know we'll travel this way tomorrow to make sure it's clear." 
"Yes ma'am."  A breath of hesitation.  "And Morana?" 
"Yeah, Sel?" 
"You were right.  It really is beautiful out here."