Storm Sisters

Prologue

It had been raining the entire journey from Westwig to Nouremburg, a route that is treacherous even in the fairest of conditions. From within the carriage, Jenilee could sense the weariness of the horses pulling them along. There was something in their breath as they struggled through the mud, warning that they were about to quit at any moment. She placed her hand onto her swollen womb, which was fully round now with the child that grew inside of her. It too was foreboding with signs of the impeding delivery, but not yet, she had to hold on just a bit longer, at least until they reached the next town.

"Hold!" cried the carriage driver, bringing the carriage to a sudden halt.

"What is it?" Jenilee asked.

"There's an obstruction in the road miss!" The driver called back, yelling to be heard over the crashing rain.

Jenilee stuck her head through the window to see that there was in fact a large tree that had been blown over, blocking the road ahead.

"Can we go around it?" She asked.

"No, the forest is too thick, we have to move it."

""We?" she replied with an heir of insult.

"I apologize my lady, but I don't think I can do it on my own."

Reluctantly Jenilee hoisted her aching body, which had grown increasingly heavy the past couple of months, out from the carriage, into the stinging ice rain and wind. Her elegant shoes were met with the thick and sloppy mud below that seemed to suck and pull at her feet with every step.

"You push from that side and I'll pull from over here!" The carriage driver yelled with his face contorted against the wind.

The tree was much larger up close and still full with leaves and branches, but she did as he instructed, pushing against the thing when he called out to her. Despite their earnest attempts, the tree would not budge in the slightest.

"We'll have to hoist it out using the horses." The carriage driver suggested.

He then detached the carriage from the horses and began to loop it around the largest branch, when suddenly a brilliant streak of lighting lit up the sky, and a deep boom shook the earth, frightening the horses. The lead horse kicked her front legs up with fear, striking the carriage driver in the chest, and as he tumbled backward into the tree, the horses bolted in the opposite direction.

Jenilee cried after them, but it was no use... they had gone. She searched out the carriage driver, who was lying on his side amongst the branches as broken as the tree itself. She attempted to shake him awake, but all signs of life had left his body. She was alone and stranded in this wicked storm.

Just then another bolt of lightening lit up the scene, revealing to Jenilee that she was not alone after all, but surrounded by the glowing orbs of soulless eyes. As the eyes drew nearer the faces around them became more clearly distinguishable, not as those of people, but as animals—as wolves, grey and fierce with glaring fangs.

Without proper time to organize her racing thoughts into a coherent strategy, Jenilee took off running into the woods, and the wolves followed in pursuit, skipping effortlessly over the same mud that was slowing Jenilee down.

She cried out as she forced her way through the spiny brush, until she breached another clearing. It was the strangest place she had ever seen; a lone, mossy green hill with a giant, ancient willow tree whose branches where of such magnificent bends and curves that it was impossible to trace ones origins from another's, and its leaves were a vibrant red which appeared like fire against the purple sky, heavy with storm clouds as far as the eye could see. But there was a break in the clouds directly above the tree which the allowed a streak of sunlight to pour through, bathing the tree with a majestic glow.

The spectacle of this tree was tempting to take in, but Jenilee could hear the wolves growl in close pursuit of her, so she had to keep running, and run she did, straight for the tree. Although it would provide no shelter from the wolves, and it would not save her, she felt drawn to it.

Her heart was racing and her lungs burned from exhaustion as she stumbled up the hill, feeling the wolves draw nearer, tearing at the back of her dress with their fangs, barking and growling with excited hunger that was soon to be satiated by her flesh.

When she reached the base of the tree, she finally collapsed to the earth beneath it, ready to embrace her fate, but before the pain of chopping fangs fell upon her, another lighting bolt rang-out, splitting the sky in two, like a piece of splintering glass, before it struck the tree itself, sending a blazing branch to the ground between Jenilee and the wolves, and from it, a great ring of fire spread out around Jenilee and the tree, barricading her from the threat of the wolves.

For the time being, she was safe, but that was impossible—the fire was surely a work of something supernatural.

Now, with the wolves at bay, something else began to stir, something deep within Jenilee—a sudden rush of pain gripped her belly as violent clenching from inside.

"Not now!" she pleaded, but pleading wouldn't do any good.

The pain came again and again, stronger and more excruciating with each pulse. She cried-out and began to push down with all her might, but before she could reconcile this agony, something gave way, and a tiny gray child lay at her feet.

She wept and bent to embrace it, but her body wasn't finished yet; the painful pulses returned once more, and same as before, another infant popped-out. She hadn't known there was to be two of them.

But before she could process this revelation, the pain came yet again for a third time, but this time was different then the others, it seemed to tear at her insides. She pushed with all the strength she had left, but nothing came, so she pushed harder and harder, until at last, the final baby slowly made its way out, but unlike the others, it came feet-first with a wave of dark red blood, and Jenilee felt her body weaken as it left her.

With her last ounce of strength, she gathered up her three newborn infants on the warmth of her breast to calm their fragile cries, and then, she passed on. Her last breath came as mist in the cool air, and faded upwards into the trees branches until it reached the place where the lightning had struck the tree, and a single leaf, fractured into three parts, drifted back down onto the now sleeping infants.

It wasn't until the next day that a very old man, whose morning routine consisted of oatmeal at the break of dawn followed by stroll to his special tree; a tree that it had been his sacred duty to protect for longer then he cared to remember, now came upon such a sight as the three sleeping infants across their deceased mother's bosom.

He gathered each of them up into his arms and examined them. They were all girls, and although newly born, the color of their eyes was each uniquely and perfectly formed with such brilliance that he had never seen before in all his days. One had eyes the color of the sky on a clear day so he named her Aura, and another's were a deep hue like the ocean after a heavy rain, and he called her Audra.

But the third girl was too weak to open her eyes just yet, and she recoiled in pain when he touched her legs. His heart sank with sadness for her—left out-here alone in this world with such a crippling affliction. So he began to softly sing a lullaby, the only lullaby that he could remember anymore. And slowly the girl opened her eyes, revealing irises so pale and bright that it was like staring into sunlight reflected off a snowy hill. He named her Aelia.