The Northern Lights

Chapter 11. An Infinity ∞

Norway, 2003

Mount Arlo sits in peace, three thousand kilometres north of Azra and Eden. The sun begins to be swallowed by a rocky horizon, as though half of it has been engulfed by a creature with sharp teeth. As it slowly dips below the horizon, the peach sky begins to fade away. Clouds conceal the diamonds that twinkle in the twilight sky. It has been a little over eight months since the magical mountain witnessed the fairy lights.

The last time they shined, they convinced him to reach out to one of the souls that climbed him three years ago, he did so, using all the mystical force he had in the process. He appeared in her dreams, tried to express to her what the lights had told him; that new life was on its way. Travelling into Azra's lucid dreams made his mind more fragile than a shard of glass, as though he could have collapsed at any moment. In all his centuries of consciousness, Mount Arlo had never felt so desperately afraid of his own possible demise. And yet he felt so alive. So human. So adventurous. He enjoyed the risk, is willing to go through the soreness all over again.

The clouds have drifted apart. The sombre sky begins to convey a mysterious invisible scent in the air triggers a sense of curiosity in the mountain, as though it were a foreign yet familiar food. An opaque coat of colour begins to wave among the sky. This is it, the mountain thinks, they are back. The child is arriving. As each hour passes, the aurora grows stronger, radiates the sky and the rocky structures below it.

Mount Arlo can practically hear the roar, an intense celebration in the atmosphere. They flicker like a sea of fireflies. As each flare of purple joins the blanket of lime that flutters below where the separated clouds once were, the mountain begins to perceive delicate whispers and orisons. Though he cannot fully comprehend their tongue, he knows of their desires, that their angelic wishes will cause him as much pain as a mother in labour, and yet, he can't help but agree. He begins his descent into hell inducing pain, the ancient patch of land knows that the lights do not hold ill-intents.

The mountain and the illuminations are co-dependent, their purposes are intertwined rings that remain stuck to one another. Despite being on inverted sides of the horizon, they are both bonded by the same pair of souls. They celebrate together, experience joy and passion together and, most of all, they undergo pain together. It is no coincidence that the last time Mount Arlo appeared in Azra's wishes, the lights did too. That when he is fatigued, they cannot shine. A reality in which they both don't coexist is inexorable. The two are more than just a strategically placed rock and a trace of heavenly decorations. They are a perfectly sung duet. They are an infinity.