ISAIAH
There was only the fire for light, its yellowish glow throwing a faint reflection on the stone walls. It cracked softly, breaking the silence that hung so heavily over the small cabin. The wind outside stirred among the trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and dampened ground. I let the smell settle me, an anchor in a sea of turbulence that only I could see.
The visions had been nonstop for days. For days, I'd been up little, eating little, and yet they only grew stronger, darker. They erupted like a tempest-unwelcome, furious, ripping me from the here and now and thrusting me into a future that I could not command. I could never truly have dominion over it. That was the reality of being a Seer. It was not power. It was a curse.
I sat cross-legged by the fire, hands clasped
