From the ambulance Morrigan watches as two elderly police officers, her mother, and her father discuss her fate.
Falling around them like snow is ash darker than the deepest mines.
She could either fall like snow into the earth or be crushed into a psychiatric blood diamond.
Her father is arguing with the officers, like he always does. Her mother agrees and co-operates easily.
"We have already tried everything," her mother says, "This is certainly for the best."

"Don't worry," said one of the officers to Morrigan's father. "Just think of it as her going on a bit of a vacation. She doesn't have to deal with school and is going to be responsible for nobody but herself."

"Indeed," said the other officer to Morrigan's mother. "This is best. She is a danger to herself."

A sudden flurry of ashes was carried by the wind. Morrigan's father coughed.

"Do we have to fill out any paperwork?" he asked.

"Yes, the hospital intake will require her guardians to be present. Otherwise, she will be a ward of the state. Follow along in your vehicle."

The fire truck continued to spray a jet of water; the caravan of ambulance, police car, and parents left the site and headed for the hospital.

The fumes of the smoke and hypnotic curves of the mountain road took hold of Morrigan's consciousness. In her dream she drifted into the otherworld to accompany her deceased companions; who soothed her with their dense blanket of comfort.

Then the darkness became a bright light, more stark and harsh than the sun.
Her retinas dance with color only to reveal a bleak, clinical room. In a daze she recalls the grey dimness of the psychiatric hospital's construction from weeks spent in the wilderness of coal creek.

It suddenly kicks in that she's on the wrong side of the monumental concrete wall. She tries to get up but finds that her hands and feet have been strapped down. She screams so loud that all the birds fly off the trees into the wild free air.

On the other side of a curtained glass, three psychiatrists consulted the family and one another to determine Morrigan's fate. She had no history of drug use, nor even a family history of mental health disorder. But she was presenting like a schizophrenic, they determined without talking to her, and with this initial diagnosis they prescribed a dose of seroquel. It would, they told her parents, calm her mind and get rid off the delusions and hallucinations. When this was under control, they predicted that she may also need some Effexor to deal with the catatonia.

Morrigan's scream could have woken the dead. Instead, the doctors ignored it. Her parents had their fears allayed by the confidence of the psychiatrists. But there are, in this world, things that do listen to such things.

The spirit of that fire sparked by Morrigan, waited patiently. It was invisible in the brutal incandescent light. Known to the Arab world as a djinn, this fire elemental hungrily licked its flaming lips.

Morrigan was a misunderstood teenager with a crooked spine, who kept her eyes low. Her body was a divine study of asymmetry; and she embraced it. She needs freedom and nature to thrive which always contrasted her peers' interests. Her attire of druidic robes and rock t-shirts heightens the disparity, as do her incoherent ramblings regarding the otherworld and the elements.

The afternoon before the disastrous fire she sits alone in the cafeteria of King Arthur High School eating her lunch with her headphones blasting. Her mid-day meal usually consists of wild plants she has foraged, but today she has a processed burrito her mother presented in the morning.
"You can't be seen eating wild mushrooms every day, dear, like a hermit!", said her mother.
Morrigan thought about how she wouldn't mind the life of a hermit. All she loves and wants to protect resides within nature.

"Ugh, it's Morrigan," said a well-dressed boy to his mates as he spotted the freakishly dressed girl. All the boys mocked disgust, averting their gazes with crinkled-up faces.

"Ask her out, I dare you."

"Hey sweetie," said another boy at Morrigan. She looked up, and he mimed taking off headphones.

She looked back down with her headphones on, she knew this boy's intentions.
He once admitted to having a crush on her and the feeling is not mutual.
She can feel his presence behind her chair, and suddenly pushes her chair back as if oblivious, knocking the boy down.
"you..." he stammered "you bitch!"

Satisfied, she feigns ignorance and stares down at her cup of water. It is suddenly swirling in a spiral. Her eyes widen, the water appears to have no interest in the laws of nature. She looks closer, then the water jumps up into her face bleeding her dark makeup like coal dust tears.

She stood up, startled, and tried to get someone's attention by ripping of her earphones and yelling
"Everyone take cover, there's an earthquake!"

Everyone in the cafeteria laughs.
"Now she has something to say..." said the boy, still milking the discomfort she caused him.
"What a psycho," said the well-dressed boy.

Then the water started jumping out of everyone's cups and swirling in the air, finally settling in a globe formation around Morrigan. She started drowning and desperately tried to break free from the globe. When she finally does she falls to the floor, exhausted.

She suddenly feels an intense dryness, as if she was trekking through an arid desert. She looks up and sees a crowd around her, all pointing and laughing.

"Principal's Office. Now."

Mr. J--, the math teacher, was suddenly in front of the crowd, reaching down to pick Morrigan up. "Come with me."

The hallway from the lunchroom to the Office was, as usual, packed with students. The bodies opened in a circle to allow the two to travel with full haste. "You caused quite the commotion," Mr. J-- said as they arrived at the glass exterior door of the Office.

The receptionist didn't even look up. "Morrigan, sit. The Principal will see you shortly."

Mr. J-- took a step back, turned on his muscular heel, and left, leaving Morrigan in the all-too-familiar glare of the lights.

she waited for what felt like an eternity, wondering why no one else could see or feel the liquid.
She knows that no one else can see the other-world, where the dead reside in a parallel reality. This has been an issue ocassionally, but with the rise of "air-pods" she can now talk to the deceased in public as long as she puts white bits of plastic in her ears.
While she waits she starts talking to Gerald Gardner, the author of a Wiccan textbook of rituals, "Book of Shadows".
She asks him what he knows about water, but they are cut off when the principal appears and Mr. Gardner does the opposite.

"Who the hell were you talking too?" Asked the Principal.

"Gerald Gardner", said Morrigan.

The Principal screwed up his face, looking on the verge of a migraine.

"How many times has this been? I don't think we're getting through to you."

He cut Morrigan short, not even giving her the time to defend herself. "I've looked over your permanent record, and it seems that there has never been a single teacher who could get you even to try to seem interested. The school therapist was reduced to tears.
Frankly, we don't know what to do with you."

He sighed. "We've done everything possible. Nothing motivates you. You don't want to learn what we're teaching. You don't even want to be 'cool'. I'm going to call your father and have him take you home. You're suspended for three weeks. If that doesn't work, I'll have no choice but to expel you. Try to take this seriously."

Morrigan, still ignored, watched as the Principal dialed a familiar number on the phone.

Morrigan's blood starts simmering. "I'm on a sacred quest for knowle-"

"SHHH!" said the principal.

Her father picks up the phone "Red Tree Law Firm, this is Arlo. How may I help you?"

"Hi Arlo, it's just me, Fred... I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you," said the principal.

Arlo sighs. "Say no more, I'll have Laurie pick her up."

20 minutes later her mother arrives, with boiling blood.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" and before Morrigan can squeeze a couple words out, Laurie screeches, "Inexcusable! There is nothing you can say to make this less embarrassing for our family. I don't want to hear any of it."

Morrigan's arms were laden with textbooks and notepads, mostly filled with doodles and daydreams.

They went to the car, a red electric sedan filled with technological wizardry. Morrigan could barely fit her daydreams in the back seat.

"First thing, we are hiring you a tutor. You will not fall behind in your classes. This is not a vacation. You will sweat all that hideous makeup off your face. There will be no midnight rituals, no long walks in nature. You will spend these three weeks absolutely grounded."

"Laurie, you know that I'm embarrassing by nature, and I'd rather live alone in the wilderness than in a house like that," said Morrigan calmy.

Laurie swerves into another lane and back, "Don't you dare call me Laurie! I deserve some god damned respect, I'm the mayor, REMEMBER? Tonight you are sleeping in your room, not the backyard. And no dinner OR foraging, you hear me?!"

"Fine, I don't give a fuck anymore." said Morrigan as she slammed the car door then ran to the garage to find the matchbox, her daydreams spilling out of her grasp.
"Jesus Christ," said Laurie, overwhelmed by embarrassment and disappointment. Laurie rushed into the kitchen to open another bottle of mayoral rosé.

Morrigan felt like no one cared about her drawings and poetry, or the words she had to say. She has been positioned as the silent spokesperson for insanity, so she might as well act irrationally. She heads out to the backyard with her arms heavy, and a matchstick in her teeth.

Meanwhile, her mother spills rosé all over the freshly renovated tiles.

The matchstick births a tiny imp. It hungrily struggles to life, nursed by the kindling. Morrigan feeds it more. Poetry, drawings, thoughts -- all of it consumed. Soon, it is nearly out of control. The imp dashes across the lawn to the back porch. The old wood is eager to sacrifice itself to the flame.

Smoke filters into the house. Laurie looks up from her mess and screams, "fire!"

In one hand she dials nine-one-one. With the other hand, she fumbles under the sink for a fire extinguisher. In moments, she is in the backyard; she doesn't have time to scowl at her daughter as she sprays the stubborn imp.

The imp disintegrates, but 100 other imps have already emerged from Morrigan's impassioned bonfire.
Morrigan fiercely tries to muster up water magic, but everything remains dry as the gin her father drinks. When the spilled rosé lights up with celebrating imps, nearly all hope succumbs to flames and dark rolling smoke.

She tries to focus but her mother is yelling in her ear, Morrigan can't make out the words.
She rushes into the house to try to stop the fire and is encompassed by scorching dryness. She is surrounded by imps jubilant in her failure, dancing around her body.
Then all the light is consumed by the deepest darkness, and all the oxygen is gone.

---Beginning of Issue 2---

There was some jam on the wall, in the shape of fingerprints. Also, a scratch made in ink, and a few other marks made up a constellation of images across the white tableau. The fire elemental hummed in rhythm with the incandescence, and the room got a few shades whiter.

Suddenly, the images came to life, twisting and unfolding like origami. It was clearly an illusion, but still on the spectrum of visible things. As it finished unfolding, it looked like a map. The map burned itself into Morrigan's retinas before vanishing. The room returned to its normal brightness.

Just then, the door opened and two psychiatrists walked in.

"Hello, Morrigan," said one. "My name is Dr. Blue and this is Dr. Yung. If you aren't busy, we would like to interview you."

"Uhh... sure." said Morrigan, startled by her vision and pre-occupied with a burning desire to decode the map.
Dr. Yung closed the door, and with the lock's click, she snapped back to reality and was suddenly struck with the cold hard presence of the two men.

"Would you like a glass of water?" asked Dr. Blue.

"No." said Morrigan, fearful that her connection with water could alter their diagnosis.

"Ma'am, you have no choice in this matter." said Dr. Yung, with an affirmative tone and lifeless eyes.

"I said NO!" said Morrigan, physically backing up from the men.

"That's alright," said Dr. Blue, side-eying Dr. Yung, "Sweetheart, we just want to have a conversation with you about what happened in the cafeteria yesterday, do you think we can do that?

"I don't know what you heard. But I'll tell you this. I am of sound mind, and I have a relationship with nature that is unrivaled. Please don't keep me from the forest. It's immoral, you will harm me." said Morrigan.

Dr. Blue asked a series of questions, exuding his best impression of bedside manner.

"Do you know where you are? Are you eating well? How are your sleeping habits?"

"Do you believe you have powers that other people don't have? Do you ever see things that other people can't see? Do you ever hear voices?"

Feeling berated, Morrigan took a deep breath and did her best to retain control. She spoke softly with even calculation.

"I know where I am because I spend a lot of time in the forest outside these concrete walls." said Morrigan.
"I only eat foraged flora and I can't sleep indoors." she said.

"I see, that's an issue or us. Tell me dear, what is it exactly that you do in the forest?" said Dr. Blue.

"I commune with nature through harmless elemental rituals." said Morrigan. Dr. Yung scribbled on his notepad.

"I see, and do you perceive magical occurrences resulting from these rituals?" said Dr. Blue.

"I experience an understanding of self and normalcy," said Morrigan.

"and what's normal for you?" said Dr. Blue.

"Communing with nature, and the listening to spirits of the otherworld. I was bestowed with this gift from an elemental at stone-henge on a family vacation. I don't expect you to understand because my experience is unique to me only. That's why I sometimes see things others don't see, I am simply open to another aspect of reality." said Morrigan as rationally as possible.

"So... to summarize you are a witch who can hear dead people, and you believe you hear these voices due to some over-arching spiritual conspiracy that was assigned to you as a child?" said Dr. Blue while Dr. Yung scribbled ferociously on his notepad. Yung's hands were shaking so when he tried to put down his notebook it fell open on the floor.

On the notepad Morrigan saw an inverted pentagram and the words "satanic deviant with schizo-typical personality disorder".

Morrigan burst into tears. "no, NO, You're wrong! I don't belong here!"

The psychiatrists vanished as quickly as they had arrived. Shortly thereafter, a food tray was brought to the room.

On the tray was a floppy hamburger, some wimpy steamed vegetables, a disposable orange juice and milk, and a single portion of tapioca pudding. A plastic spoon and fork were wrapped in a serviette. Someone had placed an apple on the tray as well, but it was not mentioned in the list of foods that accompanied the meal. Regardless, it was the freshest thing there.

Morrigan wondered who her guardian angel was. She was pleased to eat the apple even though it was clearly genetically modified. The fruit reminded her of the crab apples that she used to steal from her neighbors garden. The very birth of her aptitude for foraging.

The other foods, on the other hand, were far to processed to be appealing. Having not consumed any processed food since she was 7 years old, the hospital food proposed a legitimate threat to her health. She was afraid because based on her interaction with the psychiatrist, she was probably going to be here for a while. She feels the walls closing in on her.

But the walls have secrets as well, making them her friends. She tried to encourage the wall to unfold the map she witnessed before the interview. But the wall offered randomness only. Not wanting to waste the food she was given, she used it to physically trace out the constellations of the map as she perceived them. The toxic green of the vegetables vibrated with the neon orange juice to create clarity, and the map began to unfold again into a three-dimensional illusion.

She stepped into the illusion and tried to make sense of the space. She figured that it was most likely a map of the hospital.
She noticed an intense energy field emanating from the dead center of the hospital. She wondered if this represents the Intensive Care Unit because the energy is so acute.
She also noticed a couple other energy hot spots. She figured that one of them must represent the head psychiatrists office. Another hot spot she could identify as the Eating Disorder ward, from many days over the years spent visiting her anorexic best friend, Klara.

"is Klara still here?! they told me that she was transferred!" Morrigan said.

Without knocking, a nurse suddenly opened the door to retrieve Morrigan's food tray. She found Morrigan in a strange pose with food all over her hands and smeared on the walls.

The nurse, barely shocked, asked for some assistance to move Morrigan to the adjoining cell. The janitor, a young and bright-eyed hire named Steven, looked at the work and in an instant he could tell it was a map of the hospital. He got a chill when he saw that an ink mark from an earlier drawing connected this room to the room that Morrigan had been moved to.

Knowing his job, however, he snapped a quick photograph of the damage, before he set to work scrubbing down the wall.

Meanwhile, Klara sat grumpily in a chair between a stationary bicycle and a table covered in a half-done jig-saw puzzle.

Klara was emaciated, wearing neutral tone clothes two sizes too large. She was a mess of dark green, brown, gray, and beige. She had no make-up on her face, but a force-feeding tube was jabbed unceremoniously down her nostril. She could not remember how long she had been there, but all the colour was drained from her face; she may have been a statue of eternal misery.

Nurse Laurel approached Klara to evaluate her condition. Nurse Laurel was the kindest employee to her patients, so attentive it often annoyed Klara.

Laurel was particularly interested in Klara because of the stories she would tell about a girl named Morrigan. Laurel was secretly a Wiccan, who had experienced weak flare-ups of magic.

Morrigan’s connection to nature and magical forces made her seem like a goddess to both Laurel and Klara. But Klara was interested in Morrigan’s magic for a different reason. Klara saw her own illness as something not to be treated, but to be converted into magic.

“Still haven’t finished that puzzle?” asked Nurse Laurel.

"I think it looks just about done," said Klara with an uncomfortable smile, a rare spectacle.

Here, in the eastern wing of the Intensive Care unit, was a small bookcase, a television room, and the aforementioned exercise bike and jig-saw table. Projecting off were six bedrooms, four of which were solitary, and the other two were shared. Klara's was the solitary room in the corner, a sign of her seniority. There was also a telephone nook, and a room with the female bath and showers. The toilets were in the sleeping quarters.

After the telephone nook was a refrigerator filled with jugs of lemon water and sandwich bread. A drawer contained spreads. That was the east wing. There was a dining area, then another phone nook, and the whole arrangement was mirrored in the west wing, except with the men's bath.

There was also an ancient piano near the bookcase, which sat there dejectedly. Klara was trained to play as a child, but rejected it in adolescence because the piano came to represent parental tradition. She found in the piano rigidity rather than inspiration.

Her gaze travelled to the nurse's station. Behind the counter stood Nurse Laurel and Nurse Jade, who appeared to be engaged in a heated argument. Klara felt the instinct to protect Laurel, seeing her as fragile and naive. Jade on the other hand, was rigid like the piano, joyless and hellbent on rule enforcement. Jade had the power in the duo, because the head psychiatrist was quite fond of her.

Klara approached the table as their argument drew on. Laurel appeared to be on the verge of tears.
"Hey, I didn't get my medicine this morning, can you help me, Laurel?" said Klara.

Jade looked Klara up and down then stomped away, her heart heavy.

"Dear, it says here that you did receive your medication, are you sure?" said Laurel, trying to keep herself together.

"I've taken my pills, Laurel, It just looked like you were being bullied. I know what that's like. I wanted to help you." said Klara.

"I see. Rest assured that I can handle my own business. You already have enough to worry about. It's nearly bedtime, please go to your bedroom for the evening." said Laurel, a tear slowly dripping down her cheek.

"Fine." said Klara. She entered her bedroom and shut the door with force.