The Northern Lights

Chapter 1. Magic on Mount Arlo

2000, Norway.

It is silent tonight on Mount Arlo. A shiver in the wind would be confused for a siren. Crystals of snow glide along the unmerciful wind and sink softly into the innocent ground. They fall like thin sheets of paper. Gracefully. Creating art in the process, just not the kind you would hear. Arlo's aggressive rocky terrain has now been blanketed in passive layers of heavenly white.

The Norwegian winter had only just begun, and winter brought two things to ancient Arlo, snow, and longer periods of darkness. A darkness that would allow the heavens to ignite in a magical fashion. Waves of light in the sky that, as much as he tries, is unable to predict or comprehend. Humans call it the Aurora Borealis, the 'Northern Lights'. Arlo calls it something else. Arlo calls it magic.

Arlo's gift is a weight heavier than any mountain. He is the only one that has grown. Not in size, but in consciousness. Despite being unable to move or speak, Arlo has been given a gift. The gift of thought. And there is a certain sense of isolation that surrounds him for it. Many would consider his gift a curse, causing him to ponder as to why. Why this gift chose him. Unable to explore, he now believes that his purpose doesn't need to be found, for it only needs to be observed. Only needs to be experienced. He believes his purpose belongs in the array of passive violet and aggressive lime that flicker above from time to time. These lights bring Arlo joy. They bring him company. They justify his creation.

This quiet mountain is one of many. Their silhouettes tend to inspire hope in people thousands of kilometres away. Their orisons defeated by the distance. Heard only as dull whispers by the mighty trail of mountains. This ancient structure of rock was different to his brothers and sisters today, for he had visitors.

Two childlike souls' step amongst a mountain so high, their lungs can barely cope. One man. One woman. Both lifelong adventurers. They make Arlo feel warm despite being buried under tons of white. These two lovers are not a threat, nor are they a burden to watch. Their presence, though a mystery, is welcomed.

Their legs ache and chests thump. Eyes heavy, burning as they blink. His nose was quite large, though his smile was bigger. This man is obsessed with his destination. His whole life, he had been focusing on the end. He was petrified of death up until he met Azra. She persuaded him, that death was a small price to pay for the joys of life. Despite the fear and mystery, he was able to accept it, for he could not escape it. Every adventurer must learn to sustain the pain that will be present along any journey, big or small.

The woman that lagged closely behind was ready to give up. To giving in to the cold ache of the winter breeze. She is an adventurer too, although she isn't as determined as her soulmate. Mount Arlo detects something special in Azra's soul. A slither of innocence so pure, no devil would dare try to corrupt it.

Eden looks back at her, seeing a glint of fatigue in her eyes as their pupils meet each other. He understands her pain. Afterall, they had travelled the same distance. He beamed a warm smile to his best friend, before sticking his tongue out in a childish attempt to motivate her. She feels a false sense of certainty, believing that the only reason they begun this journey was to see the view of Tromsø from a galaxy away.

Eden sees a different purpose at the end. His stubble is barely visible in the dark. He wants to take her for another reason: to ask for her eternal love. Love is enough to drive anyone to do anything, at least, that's what Arlo and he believe. Though one of them has never experienced it, never will. Arlo knows that there is something different about these two. A sense of hopefulness and passion.

It was no longer silent towards the top of Mount Arlo. The repetitive shuffling of two pairs of feet crushing into snow and boisterous laughter had drowned out the peacefulness that this rock was so used to. Though he didn't mind their laughs mellifluously breathing life into the air. Their playful presence created a contrast to the lackadaisical tunes of nature that had been surrounding him for eons.