The Road

by Liana Mir

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There’s this moment when you got to realize that who you are and what you do are not the same.

You have to decide what matters.

You have to decide where you’re going, ’cause, baby, that’s the only way you’ll ever figure out how to get there.

(Driving three roads in opposite directions can’t really be that fun.)

The first stop is where you decide whether to drop your backpack on the ground in front of the first nice town that passes you by and decide whether you’re going to settle.

Never settle.

The second signpost asks whether you turn to the right hand or to the left. I went both ways and never looked back.

I’m looking back.

How do I meet myself back in the middle? (Good question, but aren’t they all?)

Somebody forgot that the journey never was the point.

I’m looking forward.

What stands at the end of this road? (Whatever I choose.)

Just choose the road.

First Story: “Crossing the Barrier”

Story Stats

Title: “Crossing the Barrier”
Beta: G. Jackson (I could kiss your feet!) — this girl is awesome
Summary: It’s her mother’s last hunt and Casal’s last chance to become a hunter herself.
Word Count: About 2200 words
Status: On submission [Race points = 1]

Snippet:

“You’ll be an excellent cyberpath, one day,” Kidar said behind her when she had her foot on the first step aboveboard. He was following her, and that irritated her. “Keep you from getting killed,” he offered. Like it was a good thing. Everyone knew Haila lived on the borderlands and were far more likely to die in battle.

Casal stopped cold. Her face burned. She turned to her mother’s helmsman and fixed him with a look borrowed neither from father nor mother. “I am Haila.”

Ember

A poem by Liana Mir

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gather the angels of the winds of heaven
for the warrior rides forth with no master
and the fires shall bear no restraint
the arrow is drawn from the quiver
sped through the burning of hearts only faster
bloodying with its taint

from the dark and the light and the casting of thunder
ridden with power, tremulous, hidden
sacred the circle of pain
from sweetness and brightness, the singing of bleakness
unwoven, unraveled, in mystery bidden
to walk in the falling of rain

from the bright’ning byres of flaming rebirth
from phoenix fires and death unsung
ring in the day the earth will rue
the wings of heaven lie tattered and riven
cast, like old gods, to the earth and wrung
to make the worlds anew

Welcome to the Peninsula

Before you lie the households of Vardin and Yakhuein, the rolling moors of Airlwynmor, and the dangerous mountains of Rothnarak, land of the dragons. Here you will meet the Gifted, standing watch upon the high places of Vardin, who use wind and storm and wave to seal the Barrier—or open it.

Welcome to the Peninsula.