by Astrid Foss
Though the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, the Everchanging Lights sent fresh colour dancing across the sky above the beautiful island of Nordovia. Hanna, Magda and Ida smiled as they waved their parents farewell from the window of their bedchamber.
Freya and Magnus Aurora were to be guests of honour at a banquet in neighbouring Icefloss, as a thank-you for their help in protecting the town from that winter’s harsh snowstorms.
“Your father and I will return in the morning for your birthday celebrations,” Freya called to the triplets. “If you misbehave, the Lights will let me know!”
As if in response, the purple, blue and pink lights in the sky glowed more brightly for a moment.
“We’ll be good, Mother!” called Ida, jostling for a place at the window between her sisters.
“Well, we’ll try! Don’t watch the Lights too closely!” giggled Hanna.
“Bye, Mother! Bye, Father!” cried Magda, watching Freya and Magnus trudge away through the deep snow towards their sledge. The two Arctic wolves that pulled it were shaking their harnesses, impatient to be off.
The girls’ mother had a very special role on Nordovia. She was the Keeper of the Lights. The magical Everchanging Lights sustained and protected the island, and the Aurora family had been in charge of their magic for as long as anyone could remember. The Keepers of the Lights kept everything in balance, guiding the magic to care for everything that lived on the island, and looking after the people. Hanna, Magda and Ida knew that one day it would be their turn to take on this responsibility.
The girls stayed huddled together at the window, following the lantern on their parents’ sledge until it disappeared from view in the dusk.
As Freya Aurora settled back into the sledge, she took Magnus’s hand. She could hardly believe that their girls were to turn twelve the next day – the age at which they would come into their magical powers, just as she had done. She couldn’t wait to see what each girl would be able to do. Each Aurora’s power was different. Freya had been thrilled to discover her ability to momentarily freeze time – though it had taken her a while to learn how to use her gift. She frowned as she thought about her sister, who had come into her own power a year later and had chosen a very different path…
Magnus squeezed her hand and smiled warmly, before turning to shout a loud “Yah!” to hurry the wolves along. Although he had no magic of his own, Magnus was a strong and brave man, who led his guardsmen well and helped the people of Nordovia in any way he could.
The pair talked happily as Magnus drove the wolves through the woodland, Freya’s red hair streaming behind her like flickering flames in the cold air. But as they approached the heart of the forest the two white wolves suddenly drew to a halt.
“What is it, boys?” called Magnus. “On!”
But the wolves seemed frozen, and whimpered in fright.
Magnus climbed down from the carriage, stroking his blond beard in confusion.
“Something feels wrong…” Freya said in concern. “Be careful, husband.”
The wolves had come to a halt in a small clearing. To one side, a steep bank of rock jutted above the trees, and the dark entrance to a cave gaped at its base.
Now the wolves began to growl at the mouth of the cave. Freya leapt from the carriage to join her husband, and as the pair crept towards the shadowy entrance Magnus drew his sword and Freya readied her magic. Their footsteps quietened as they stepped inside the cave. There was no longer snow beneath their feet, just dirt and dried pine needles. They stood for a moment, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“Who’s there?” called Magnus. “Show yourself!”
The shallow cave echoed Magnus’s words back at him. They searched around but the cave seemed empty, and the pair walked back through the entrance. But as Freya stepped into the dim light a shadow emerged from the trees and grasped her wrist tightly.
But it wasn’t a shadow. It was a woman.
Her hair – the colour of a starless night sky – spilled around her pale face. In her left hand she held a gleaming staff, as clear and smooth as glass.
Or ice.
“Veronika!” cried Freya. Fear flooded through her. She tried to use her magic to freeze time but her sister had cast a spell with her grip, blocking her power. As she struggled to escape Magnus ran to help her, but Veronika stabbed her staff into the ground and shouted a vicious-sounding spell. Instantly gnarled tree limbs burst out of the snow and weaved themselves round him. The thick tree limbs writhed around, squeezing Magnus’s hand and forcing him to drop his blade. He was trapped.
Distracted by Magnus, Veronika’s grip on Freya’s arm loosened. Freya seized her chance and rapidly muttered a powerful spell of her own. Three orbs shot from Freya’s free hand and into the dark sky. The Everchanging Lights flickered and dimmed as each orb filled with a swirling colour – one purple, one blue and one pink. Freya gestured, and the orbs flew away and disappeared.
“No!” shouted Veronika. “Are you trying to thwart me, sister? You’ll fail! You tried to banish me once, but I was too strong for your magic! I will take control of the Everchanging Lights and rule this island. This time you will not succeed in stopping me!”
She opened her lips and a stream of words flowed forth in a hoarse whisper.
Freya recognised them for what they were: a curse. Veronika was using it to drain Freya’s magic from her.
The woman laughed – an eerie, throaty sound – and Freya’s eyes widened with fear. Veronika, the Shadow Witch, had returned to Nordovia, and she was more powerful, more evil, than ever before.
The triplets raced down the castle’s west passage towards their bedchamber, late to the preparations for their birthday celebration. As usual, Hanna was up ahead, laughing and pulling her sisters Ida and Magda by the hands.
“Stop tugging!” shouted Magda.
“We’d have been back on time if you’d left the skating pond earlier, Hanna,” Ida pointed out.
“It’s our birthday!” Hanna shot back. “I deserve to have some fun!”
Ida rolled her eyes, but kept running. She had spent a peaceful morning drawing a beautiful snow orchid that had just begun to bloom among the nearby spruce trees. That is, until the wild deer Magda had been playing with had run right through the glade and crushed the little flower. But there was no time for arguing about that now. Madame Olga, their governess, would be waiting. She always told them that being the daughters of the Keeper of the Lights was no excuse for being late!
Hanna, still dragging her sisters, sped past two of the castle maids scrubbing windows, who called out birthday good wishes to the girls.
Suddenly Magda slowed down and came to a stop in front of an enormous tapestry.
“What?” asked Hanna, impatient.
“Yes, come on, I want to see our new dresses!” added Ida.
But Magda was studying the wall hanging, which she loved. She freed her hand from her sister’s. “You do think Mother and Father are all right, don’t you?”
The girls shared a long look, their identical green eyes locked. It was hours into their birthday morning, and their parents still hadn’t returned to the castle. It wasn’t like them to be gone this long without sending word, especially on the girls’ special day. No one was saying it out loud, but something didn’t feel right.
Ida turned to look at the tapestry. It was the Nordovian flag. The castle was filled with rare and beautiful items – a sculpture of an ancient tree carved from a single glittering chunk of volcanic rock, a huge crystal vase filled with hundreds of snowy lily-of-the-valley flowers that never wilted. But the girls all loved this tapestry best. Ida reached out to touch the intricate designs. With one finger she traced the glittering crystal rose, the majesti
c snow hawk, the perfect circle of a full rainbow: all ancient symbols of Nordovia. It made her feel better. She gave a small sigh. Maybe everything would be fine.
“Everything will be fine,” Hanna said out loud, as if she had read her sister’s thoughts. “I’m sure Mother and Father will be back any minute.” Her expression turned mischievous. “So … have either of you felt any magic yet?” she asked.
Magda shook her head. “For a moment this morning I thought I made the clouds move, but it was just the wind!”
Her sisters laughed.
“No, nothing yet,” said Ida. “I hope I get something nice!”
“I hope I get something exciting!” Hanna replied with a grin.
Ida rolled her eyes, but then her gaze drifted up to the sky outside the window. “Have you noticed anything strange about the Everchanging Lights? They don’t look right.”
Hanna and Magda joined their sister at the window as Ida continued. “Usually they’re happy and alive, but now they seem sort of faded. The pretty blue light keeps coming and going – look! It keeps fading into a kind of greyish—”
“Ida.” Hanna reached out and took her sister’s hand, giving it a warm squeeze. She knew Ida was getting lost in worried thoughts. Hanna forced her own fears to the back of her mind. “Of course Mother and Father are fine. Do you know anyone stronger than Father, or cleverer than Mother? She’s the Keeper of the Lights; can you imagine anything that could compete with her magic?”
Ida smiled a little and shook her head.
“Of course not,” said Magda. “The Lights are probably just dimming because Mother knows we’re late for getting ready, and she’s warning us!”
Ida and Hanna laughed.
“Besides,” Hanna reminded her, “Mother and Father wouldn’t miss our twelfth birthday for anything! They’ve probably stopped to get more presents for us. A new pair of skis for me, a beautiful saddle for Magda … and a big boring easel for you, so you can sit and draw pictures of us having fun!”
Ida let out an indignant huff, but she was grinning as she prodded Hanna in the ribs. Soon Magda joined in their play-fight, and the three of them giggled as Hanna finally pulled Ida and Magda towards their bedchamber. Just as they raced through the door, panting, they flew smack into their governess. She looked stately in her starched brown dress with her hair wound into a roll behind her head.
The girls tumbled in all directions, but Madame Olga was a fortress. She stood sternly, arms crossed, waiting for them to get up and compose themselves.
“Young ladies,” she said, sighing. She made a show of smoothing her dress, though none of the girls had ever seen a wrinkle in any item of her clothing. “Where have you been? I have been trying for years to teach you all to carry yourselves in a manner befitting your station.”
The girls straightened up quickly, but they had to stifle yet more giggles as their polar bear cub, Oskar, bounded into their chamber, fresh from playing in the snow, and shook his wet fur all over them.
“Goodness me! Control that bear, girls!” cried Madame Olga, brushing snowflakes off her sleeves.
“Go and sit in the corner, please, Oskar,” Magda said to the excited bear cub, trying not to laugh again.
Hanna ran a hand through her hair. “Madame Olga, have you had word from Mother and Father yet?”
The lines on the governess’s face softened. She shook her head, and then gave the girls a rare smile.
“I’m certain your parents will be back any moment now, in good time for the festivities. It’s not every day that their daughters turn twelve!” She turned briskly. “Now, there’s no time to waste,” she announced. “It’s time to prepare for your birthday celebration. The people of Nordovia expect to see three elegant young ladies today, and that’s what they’re going to get.”
Madame Olga clapped her hands together, and then waited with her fists on her hips as Ida, Magda and Hanna formed a line. Several ladies-in-waiting rushed busily into the room.
“The dresses, Madame.” One of the ladies-in-waiting held out an arm draped with bright material.
Before the girls knew what was happening their everyday dresses were whisked away, and they were helped into long, shimmering gowns. A mirror in an ornately carved wooden frame stood nearby, but the girls looked at each other instead.
“These dresses! They look like enchanted waterfalls!” Ida ran her hand over the silvery silk.
“Like sunshine on snow,” breathed Magda, smoothing down her golden dress.
“Like … like… Oh, I don’t know – but they’re beautiful!” added Hanna, twirling around, the red silk of her gown flashing in the light as she spun. Her sisters giggled.
“Their hair,” commanded Madame Olga, clicking her fingers.
One of the ladies-in-waiting slid behind Ida with a hairbrush and pulled out the tangles in her long blonde hair, and then nimbly wound it on top of her head. Hanna winced as her own hair was brushed. Her lady-in-waiting winced too, trying to arrange the short choppy red hair into something elegant. Magda squirmed as her pigtails were undone, her brown hair falling in tangles around her face as her lady-inwaiting set to work.
At last, the girls were ready. Madame Olga led them to the mirror, where they stood side by side.
Ida’s silky hair had been woven with tiny pink flowers. “Mountain mist!” she exclaimed, recognising the blossoms.
Hanna’s hair was the greater miracle. Somehow it had gone from a choppy tangle to a sea of gentle waves, which had been crowned with a delicate golden tiara. Magda’s hair was styled into two intricate buns at the sides of her head. Her lady-in-waiting had wound them with threads of beautiful silver leaves.
Hanna took a step but caught her foot in her dress and had to grab Magda for support. “I can barely walk!” she complained, as Magda shrugged her off. “It’s a lovely dress but it’s no good for having fun!”
Ida felt like she could wear her dress for ever. She felt like a princess.
Soon the girls were strolling through the courtyard, their arms linked. Banners swung in the breeze, and musicians played. Everyone they passed wished them a happy birthday. The girls smiled at each well-wisher, nodding their thanks.
“Hurry up,” urged Hanna, pulling Ida and Magda along. “I want to see if they’ve laid out the gifts yet…”
Magda held up a finger. “Listen.”
Two stable boys stood nearby, heads bent together, whispering.
“The celebrations are nearly set to begin,” one of them was saying. “Seems an awfully long time to be gone at Icefloss.”
“And not like Freya and Magnus at all,” the other agreed. “What if—”
The rest of his words were lost beneath the circling melody of a flute.
Ida looked anxiously at her sisters.
“Never mind them,” Hanna reassured her. “Mother and Father will be here any minute. Maybe they’re planning to surprise us!”
The girls were distracted by a commotion in one corner of the courtyard – a bustle of feathers and squawking. It was the castle falconer’s apprentice, Gregor, arriving to take part in the festivities. There was no mistaking him, even from a distance. His jacket was decorated with a line of bright feathers: the bold scarlet of a quetzal, the deep blue of a macaw. On his outstretched arm perched a beautiful golden-brown eagle, flapping its large wings as it stretched. Gregor murmured to it soothingly.
Magda grabbed her sisters’ hands. “Come on! Let’s go and see the eagle up close.”
“Fine. But stop pulling!” said Hanna with a smile.
But before they had gone more than a few steps Madame Olga appeared.
“Young ladies, you must take your places. The birthday celebrations are about to begin!”
All eyes were on the three sisters as they made their way through the gathering crowd and took their seats on a platform towering over the packed courtyard. Madame Olga sat just behind them.
“The entire island is watching you, girls,” she murmured. “Sit still and
show that you’re enjoying the festivities.” Her voice softened, though it seemed to contain a hint of worry. “I’m sure your parents will be here shortly.”
The land’s most celebrated singer performed a traditional ballad about the Everchanging Lights shining over the Nordovian Sea. Then swirling dancers took the stage, followed by a tumbling troupe of acrobats. Two jugglers hurled flaming sticks at each other, catching them deftly. The crowd roared with delight.
Then, cutting through the crowd’s applause, came an eerie howling.
Every head in the audience swivelled towards the sound.
“Father’s wolves!” the sisters shouted together. If the white wolves were back, that surely meant their parents were back too!
But the wolves that arrived in the courtyard were not standing loyally beside their master. They were alone.
And now they caught the girls’ scent and raced towards them through the crowd, which spread this way and that to let the white wolves pass. They leapt up the steep wooden steps and skidded to a halt in front of the triplets. The larger of the two walked forward. His fur gleamed with ice droplets in the sunlight.
“Why isn’t Father with them?” Ida wondered out loud.
The wolf looked at her, and then he bowed his head and placed something at the girls’ feet.
“What’s that?” asked Magda.
Ida understood first. She shivered as she realised what it meant. “No,” she said. “It can’t be—”
Magda slowly reached her hand towards the wolf, patting his head before picking up his offering from the ground. She gave a gasp of recognition.
It was their father’s glove.
Hanna reached to take it from her sister, but she wasn’t fast enough. Captain Vladimir, their father’s deputy in the Nordovian Guard, rushed forward. He held the glove high to examine it. Oskar, the polar bear cub, loped over and stood protectively by the girls.