Prologue
The storm arrived before sunset. By midnight, it had swallowed the world. Snow slammed against the windows of the small cabin on the edge of the Yukon wilderness. Wind howled through the trees like a wounded beast, rattling the walls and shaking the roof. Inside, another battle was being fought.
"Push, Maeve!"
The village midwife knelt at the foot of the bed, her voice calm despite the fear building behind her eyes. Maeve Tremblay had been in labor for hours. Sweat soaked her dark hair. Her fingers clutched the blankets beneath her. Every breath came harder than the last. Beside her, her husband never let go of her hand. Declan Tremblay's silver-gray eyes were filled with worry.
"You're doing great."
Maeve managed a weak smile. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Another contraction ripped through her. A scream tore from her throat. The storm outside answered. The fire flickered. The windows rattled. Then— A cry. It was strong, and healthy.
The midwife lifted the infant. "A boy."
Relief flooded the room. Declan laughed through tears. Maeve reached for her son immediately. The tiny infant was placed in her arms. Pale blond hair dusted his head. Ice-blue eyes blinked open. He was perfect, absolutely perfect.
"Hello, little one," Maeve whispered.
For one brief moment, everything felt right. Then the midwife frowned. Her hand moved carefully across Maeve's abdomen. Confusion crossed her face. Then alarm.
"Oh no."
Declan's smile vanished. "What is it?"
The midwife looked up. "There is another baby."
The room fell silent. Maeve looked exhausted. Then as if summoned from words alone, another contraction hit. Harder than before. The scream that followed echoed through the cabin. Hours passed. Blood stained the blankets, too much blood. Maeve grew weaker and paler. The second child refused to come easily. Fear settled heavily inside the cabin.
Finally— Another cry filled the room. A baby girl, larger than her brother and stronger. The infant announced her arrival with powerful lungs and furious determination. The midwife barely had time to wrap the baby to hand her over before Maeve's breathing faltered.
Declan immediately turned back toward his wife. "Maeve?"
Her eyes found his. They were tired. Filled with Love. Filled with heartbreak. She reached weakly toward him and toward both the children. Her hand fell short. The room became unbearably still.
"Maeve?"
Nothing. The midwife lowered her head. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"No..." That single word shattered the world. Outside, the storm continued.
Only two people knew the truth. The midwife and Declan. He swore her to secrecy.
The village mourned the loss of the healer Maeve even though they celebrated the birth of her son. No one asked many questions they assumed the difficult labor had taken its toll. And Declan made certain no one learned otherwise. The little girl never appeared in any conversation. Every record had the boy Rowan Tremblay, born Friday Dec 13th. Every memory made was with the boy, Rowan. The little girl wasn't even given a name.
The midwife wanted to speak, wanted to tell someone. She had hope that Declan would grow to love the little girl, after time. Grief had transformed Declan into a man she barely recognized. A man with a newborn son in one arm and bitterness in the other. So she remained silent even though it ate at her. A promise she made over her friend Maeve's body made sure the secret remained buried.
Five months passed.
The cold tightened its grip on the wilderness. The children thrived. Unfortunately at least according to the dark thoughts growing inside Declan's mind. He hated himself for the thoughts of resentment. The guilt, and anger. Yet every time he looked at the baby girl, he remembered blood-soaked sheets. He remembered Maeve's final breath. He remembered the feelings of loss, and emptiness. The little girl didn't understand, she couldn't understand. How could she at 5 months? Whenever she saw him, her face lit up. Tiny hands reached toward him. Trusting, loving, believing he would always catch her. That only made it worse.
The day he abandoned her began like any other.
Snow fell softly from a pale gray sky. Declan loaded supplies into a sled. The twins were bundled warmly beneath heavy blankets. The boy slept, and the girl watched him. Her silver-blue eyes followed his every movement. Halfway through the journey, he stopped. The wilderness stretched endlessly around him. White that's all he could see. Silent, and frozen. He looked down at the children in the sled, the baby girl smiled at him. A tiny, happy sound escaped her, then she reached for him. Her small fingers opening and closing. Wanting to be picked up. Something inside Declan broke because for a moment she looked exactly like Maeve. Not the shape of her face, not her eyes, it was her smile. It was hopeful, loving, and unconditional. The kind of smile Maeve used to give him. His chest tightened. The grief he'd buried for months surged back to life. Before he could stop himself, he lifted the child from the sled. She laughed, Actually laughed. Innocently certain her father was going to hold her, and keep her safe. Declan nearly turned back. Instead, he set her gently into the snow. The laughter stopped. Confusion filled her little face, and then she reached for him again. Waiting, trusting, and believing he would come back. Declan stepped away. The baby began to cry, a heartbreaking sound. Small, and afraid. He took another step, then another. The cries grew louder and more desperate. Still she reached for him. Even as snow settled on her blanket. Even as cold winds stirred around them. Declan turned away, and walked. The cries followed him, long after he disappeared into the storm.
The Northern Lights exploded across the heavens.
Green, silver, purple, and gold.
The aurora stretched across the sky like rivers of living fire. The baby's cries echoed through the frozen clearing. She was all alone, forgotten, and abandoned. Then the lights began to move. The wind died and the forest fell silent. A figure descended from the aurora itself. A massive silver fox. Nine magnificent tails unfurled behind her. Each one glowed with celestial light. Ancient golden eyes settled upon the crying child. The great fox lowered her head and the baby immediately stopped crying. Tiny fingers reached toward the silver fur the fox's heart clenched. For thousands of years she had waited. For centuries she had searched for the child reborn beneath the winter aurora, the child abandoned by blood, destined to awaken the Ninth Flame. At last she had found her.
"My little star."
The infant smiled. Nine glowing tails wrapped around her tiny body. Warmth flooded the frozen clearing. Far away, inside the moving sled, her twin brother suddenly stirred. A faint blue fox-shaped mark flashed across his tiny chest, then vanished beneath his skin, the blessing had spread.
One child touched by the heavens, the other touched by the snow, bound together by fate and by blood. The celestial fox pressed her nose gently against the baby's forehead, Silver light flashed. A hidden mark sank beneath the child's skin, waiting, growing, and sleeping until the day she would need it.
"You are not abandoned." The child drifted peacefully to sleep. Safe, protected and loved. Above them, the Northern Lights burned brighter than they had in thousands of years. And somewhere deep within the ancient magic of the world...
The prophecy had awakened.
