Creative Writing: Fianna's Fight

Recent dream sequences where Fianna was the observer flickered through her thoughts. She didn’t have time to delve into possible connections. “As surely as you feel the heat of the fire,” he told her in a paternal tone, “it warms her too. If she burns her finger, the blister forms on her skin as it would on yours. Because you are important, the Wise One has sent her to be your trusted guide. Anya knows well the world in which you will walk, and her alliances you will surely need.” Fianna took a few minutes to assimilate the idea that Anya might indeed be flesh and blood and not a VRC creation. She didn’t want a faerie guide, or any other guide for that matter. As much as she had struggled to make an emotional break from her mom and

Flames curled around the oak logs in the fire ring. They topped out four feet above the stacked wood. The shadows they cast painted her profile and danced on her irises. Her slim fingers caressed the worn wooden pieces. This time, she let them slide through her fingers as Amergin had done. When they glided across her skin’s surface, Fianna felt their individual messages: hope, despair, death, and redemption. She turned from the tiles, unable to watch. Surfacing on cresting waves of homesickness, Fianna verbalized the inquiries she most feared to articulate. “Am I the only one in my family that came to the past?” Every silent second ticked loudly in her ears while Amergin analyzed the tree forms. He moved several to one side and rearranged the remaining ones twice. While the silence stretched tautly between them like a drawn bowstring, Fianna fidgeted, impulsively stroking the charms on her necklace. Finally, Amergin straightened his shoulders and extended his hands to the flames, transforming its energy into his own. “Many streams run through the great expanse of time. You may intersect with other travelers, but they are unknown to

Ready to drop, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. Fianna pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. “How do I find out what I need to know?” she asked in a hopeful voice. “The stream flows into both the past and the future. Where the center is swift, you must be careful lest you be swept away. Make your way to the side where the current is weak. If you wade ashore, you will find bubbles and portals.” Although exhausted, Fianna, forced herself to pay attention. “What’s a bubble?” In the dirt, Amergin drew a map of a stream. Pointing to a protrusion in the line, he explained, “A bubble is a weakened point in the wall of time where a portal once existed but has been closed. It is a place where you can see others but they cannot see or hear you. It will be as if you are on the other side of an invisible wall. You can stand next to someone but cannot occupy the same space.” “You mean that I will be like a ghost?” Fianna asked. “Can I walk through walls?” Amergin leveled the dirt with his palm. “You will be as a spirit that cannot pass through objects or people. You must move around them. With practice, you will be able to push far into the bubble, moving around normally as if there were no