Memories of Hope (Stories on a Theme – “Isolate”)

Fuane sat on the floor, deep in her memories.

The memories were the access point to the future. They were a window to the past, pulling time from a place that did not exist into a person’s present mind. Most thought reading the future was all about drinking teas or smelling incense alone. They missed the crucial part about the memories.

You had to be at peace with your memories. Each time was different – sometimes the same memory would appear but in a slightly different way. Some were happy, other memories were not.

The future could be glimpsed through all, but the ones that told the future were the ones that had the strongest emotional impact.

Today’s memory was not a happy one. It was one of the worst.

Fuane steeled herself as soon as she saw the clear blue sky above. Those who had not lived through the Satellite Wars loved clear skies, associating it with beautiful days and a day outside.

Fuane remembered those skies differently. Those were the days the satellites could penetrate further to the ground, seeking out those who rebelled against the government. Those were the days you hid underground or under the treeline, waiting for the clouds to come back. Wishing for the clouds to come back.

The memory was from her childhood. She would have been almost ten in this memory, skipping along the edge of the treeline with a confidence only given by youth.

Fuane followed her younger self. She knew what was coming next, even if her ten year old self didn’t. A few steps more-

Fuane’s younger self stopped, frozen in spot. Fuane hobbled up behind her, knowing already that the Satellite would be there, hovering in front of her younger self-

Fuane pulled back the leaves of the trees, revealing the forest edge. Her younger self stood, transfixed by something in front of her, out in the Open. There should have been the shadow of a Satellite over her younger self, almost covering her entire body. But there was something different this time, the outline of a person.


The voice was melodic and calming. Fuane peered around the edge of the trees, out into the Open. A figure stood on the grassland, outlined by the bright sun. A woman, taller than Fuane, with rich brown hair and brown skin.

She looked directly at Fuane. Not at Fuane’s younger self but Fuane.

“Step forward,” the woman said.

This is the future, Fuane thought. She’d not had one of these before, certainly not from a Goddess. The woman looked a lot like Queen Inante, Goddess of the People.”

“I bring you news, Fuane of the Seers,” Inante said, “of hope.”

“Hope?” Fuane said. She glanced at her younger self, who still looked up at Inante with horror and fear. As if she was looking at the Satellite, not the Goddess of the People.

“Yes,” Inante said. She parted her hands and a scroll appeared in the air in front of her. It looked like one of the spell scrolls they kept in the Cabin, hidden away from prying eyes.

“Another Scroll?”

“To disable the Satellites,” Inante said, “you will use it.”

She handed the scroll out to Fuane.

“Take it,” Inante said, “use it. Defeat the Satellites.”

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