The small town of Glacier's Rest sat tucked between jagged, snow-drenched mountains, its wooden buildings clustered like children huddling for warmth. Frost clung to every windowpane, and the ground was a mix of packed snow and dark, icy mud. The cold bit at any exposed skin, but no one cared tonight. The town square buzzed with life, the sharp crackle of a massive bonfire rising above the hum of laughter and chatter.
Lanterns strung across the square glowed a soft amber, their light reflecting off the snowbanks in warm patches. Children darted between the legs of adults, their breath puffing in small clouds as they waved sparklers. The smell of roasted fish and baked bread wafted from food stalls, mixing with the woody tang of the fire.
Nolan Ryker, 19, lingered on the edges of the crowd, his back pressed against the rough wooden frame of a lamp post. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his old coat, shoulders hunched as he tried to blend into the shadows. His dark brown hair was messy, sticking out from beneath a woolen cap. He watched the swirling activity with a distant expression, as though it were happening in another world.
Across the square, his older brother, Finn, was the center of attention. The firelight danced off Finn's broad face as he laughed and clapped a friend on the back. He radiated confidence, standing tall with his sturdy frame and easy grin. People naturally gravitated toward him, like moths to a flame.
Nolan shifted his weight, the snow crunching softly under his boots. His breath steamed in the icy air, but he barely noticed. His gaze drifted upwards, past the lanterns and the smoke rising from the bonfire. The stars were impossibly clear, tiny pinpricks scattered across the black sky.
Above them, faint ribbons of green and purple—the northern lights—began to shimmer. They moved slowly, like the surface of a restless ocean, casting a ghostly glow over the snowy peaks. Nolan let out a long breath. This part of Glacier's Rest he didn't mind. The quiet beauty of the mountains always felt like a secret meant just for him.
"Nolan!" a voice called, pulling him back to the present.
He looked down to see Ellie, a 10-year-old girl from next door, holding up a sparkler that crackled and hissed in her mittened hand. "Look!" she said, her freckled face glowing orange in the light. "It's like a magic wand!" She twirled it, leaving trails of light in the air.
Nolan's lips tugged into a small smile. "Careful, Ellie," he said, his voice soft. "Don't burn yourself."
"I won't!" she said, giggling before darting off into the crowd. Her laughter disappeared into the music of an old fiddle, the notes rising and falling with a lilting charm.
"Still hiding?" Nolan flinched as Finn's heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder. Finn's grin was as wide as ever, his blue eyes shining with mischief.
"I'm not hiding," Nolan muttered, shrugging Finn's hand away.
"You could've fooled me," Finn said, crossing his arms and leaning against the same post. "This is a festival, you know. People are supposed to have fun."
"I'm fine," Nolan replied, glancing back toward their mother, Aria, who sat on a bench near the bonfire. Her face was pale, framed by a knitted scarf that barely concealed the exhaustion etched into her features. She raised a hand in a small wave when she noticed Nolan looking, but the corners of her lips didn't quite lift.
"Mom would want you to enjoy yourself," Finn said, his voice softening. "She worries about you. I do too."
Nolan turned away. "I'm fine," he repeated, more firmly this time.
Finn sighed, giving his brother a light punch on the arm. "Alright, brooding artist. Stay here if you want. Just don't freeze to death." He strode back toward his group of friends, his laughter ringing out again moments later.
The moment Finn walked away, the air seemed to change. The music faltered, and the chatter in the square grew quieter. Nolan frowned and looked around. The lanterns flickered, their glow dimming as if a shadow had passed overhead.
A strange light caught his eye. He tilted his head back, his breath catching in his throat. The northern lights, which had been soft and fluid before, now burned with fierce intensity. Their colors sharpened, twisting into jagged, unnatural shapes that splintered across the sky.
"What the hell…" Nolan whispered, his words lost in a rising hum.
The hum grew louder, a deep, vibrating sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. People froze, their faces turned upward in confusion and fear. The lanterns flickered again, and then one by one, they went out, plunging the square into darkness.
A child screamed.
The auroras above split apart, forming what looked like cracks in the fabric of the sky itself. The edges of the cracks glowed white-hot, and the hum became a deafening roar. The snow underfoot began to tremble, sending a fine spray of frost into the air.
"Nolan!" Finn's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "Get Mom and get out of here!"
Nolan stumbled toward the bench where Aria was sitting, but the ground heaved beneath him, throwing him to his knees. He looked up in time to see a blinding flash erupt from the sky. The world seemed to freeze for a heartbeat, bathed in searing white light.
Then, with a thunderous crack, the light disappeared.
When Nolan opened his eyes, the square was eerily still. The lanterns were dark, the bonfire reduced to embers. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, glowing faintly in the pale light of the auroras, which had returned to their gentle dance.
He pushed himself to his feet, his hands shaking. Around him, people were stirring, their voices hushed and uncertain.
"What just happened?" someone whispered.
"Where is mom?" Finn asked
Nolan didn't answer. He looked down at his hands and froze. They were trembling, and faint lines of glowing light pulsed under his skin, tracing the veins in his palms.
His heart pounded as a single thought cut through the haze of confusion: Something is wrong with me.
Far above, the auroras twisted once more, casting the first shadows of what was to come.