Blog Post 10: The Alchemy of Survival
Title: “In the Flicker of Light”
The day after Christmas had slipped into an uneasy quiet, as if the world outside was waiting for something. Ivy Mae tried to distract herself with routine—tea, a fire, a book. But silence, she knew, wasn’t peace.
At the table, Jas sat turning Roman’s hand-carved feather over and over. It felt familiar in a way they couldn’t explain, and its warmth—however faint—sent shivers through them.
“You alright there?” Ivy Mae finally asked, glancing up.
Jas looked up, their dark eyes haunted. “I think… my mom used to have something like this,” they said softly, running a thumb along the wood. “I can almost see her. But… it’s like I can’t quite reach the memory.”
The words hung heavy. Ivy Mae’s gaze drifted toward the window, though it was clear she wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “Crystal loved feathers,” she murmured. “Liam brought her here for dinner the first time—fifteen years ago. I carved her one then, too.”
It felt like a lifetime ago. Liam, Crystal, and now Jas—their family stitched together by love, loss, and circumstance.
Roman appeared in the doorway suddenly, his voice sharp. “Come here. You two need to see this.”
Outside, the cold gripped them immediately, but none of them spoke. Roman pointed beyond the yard, toward the dark line of trees. A flicker of light, unnatural and pulsing, was weaving through the branches.
“What is that?” Jas whispered, breath clouding the air.
“I don’t know,” Roman said. “But it’s getting closer.”
The light flickered brighter, illuminating strange patterns in the snow—perfect circles, etched like some careful design. The hum of something mechanical, distant and grinding, grew louder as the glow pulsed.
Ivy Mae pulled Jas closer. “We’re going back inside,” she said firmly.
“No.” Jas stepped forward, holding Roman’s feather like it meant something. “I’ve seen this before. In dreams. And I think—” They paused, searching for the words. “It’s trying to show us something.”
Before Roman or Ivy Mae could protest, the flickering light shot upwards—straight into the sky—leaving an eerie afterglow against the clouds. The earth beneath them rumbled, faint but deliberate, like something shifting far below.
Jas gasped and staggered back, clutching the feather as visions assaulted them. They saw fractured images: fires consuming forests, buildings crumbling into the ocean, icebergs splintering under impossible storms. And then—strangest of all—three men.
Elon Musk. Donald Trump. Justin Trudeau.
They were standing in a windowless room, their faces pale with fear, their voices overlapping in frantic argument. The vision twisted further—floodwaters rising, storms raging—until it snapped back to silence.
Jas fell to their knees, chest heaving. Ivy Mae was beside them in an instant. “What happened?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Jas couldn’t speak. Instead, they lifted the feather, which now glowed faintly in their trembling hand.
Roman swore under his breath. “We’re not alone here.”
And just as he said it, the distant groan of the earth rose again, louder, deeper, like a warning.