A Lightning Storm of Spark and Flame

A Lightning Storm of Spark and Flame - Prologue

18 Years Ago

The rising sun cast its warm glow upon a small house nestled deep in the woods. Two loving parents, mr. and Mrs. Winslow, were just beginning to stir awake as their child sat upright in her small bed which was situated beside theirs. The early morning light made the girl's hair gleam like woven gold as she giggled and waved her hands about wildly. She was not yet three summers old, but her gray eyes already spoke of alert intelligence. Her mother, Lilian, smiled as she rolled over to look at her, then slid out of bed. The toddler watched with keen interest from her crib as her mother walked over and knelt down to peer into her daughter's face. Wide gray eyes stared back joyfully as she made a soft little cooing noise and raised her arms. A fondly smiling Lillian obliged by lifting her up, making the baby girl babble with delight. "Good morning, Phoebe," she greeted the child, tenderly kissing her rosy cheek. Phoebe's grin was white with newly grown milk teeth. She looked toward her father, Roland and called, "Dada!" A moment later, both Phoebe and Lilian were wrapped in his arms. As the day progressed, the Winslows took turns playing with their only child. Lillian had always dreamed of filling her home with children, but was unable to because of her failing health. First, the family went out on a walk through the woods. The couple Watched in amusement as their little girl ran ahead of them to dive into a pile of fallen leaves and chase a butterfly. Next, Roland read a book to Phoebe as Lillian prepared lunch. Afterword, they danced happily around the kitchen to the music on the radio until the child grew tired and ready for her nap. Once she was peacefully asleep, Lilian and Roland sat across from one another at the table. Through tears, she informed her husband of her most recent doctor visit and the grim news that came along with it. Her health was not improving. In fact, it was getting worse. Moisture gathering in his own eyes, Roland held his wife. "Well, all we can do is enjoy every moment we have left together with our daughter." he said. But that was untrue. Neither of them realized that that would be the last day they would see the child. Late that night, as they were fast asleep, a dark shadow slipped in through the open window, grabbed the sleeping girl, and escaped without being noticed. When Lilian and Roland awoke to find her missing, they were frantic. They searched wildly, but they never found their daughter. Meanwhile, young baby Phoebe woke up in the arms of a stranger in time to hear these whispered words. Though she was too young to understand, they would stick with her for the rest of her life. "Child of my child, blood of my blood. I bestow upon you three gifts unlike any other. First, the gift of beauty. Grow bold and beautiful of body and heart. Next, the gift of wisdom. Be wise and understanding of the ones around you. Fear not the quiet one. Allow him not to be your downfall, but instead your salvation. Finally, the gift of the weather. Wield it with care and skill. Be cautious always." As a soft kiss was pressed against the top of her golden-brown hair, Phoebe Winslow closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. She dreamed of storms.