Chapter 6 Aurora #3
“Oh yeah, princess, this is the part where your mom would reach through the veil just to smack me.” He lets out a dry chuckle. “She swore she’d never tell you this story—said you’d think we were nuts. But I think …” He hesitates. “I think she was scared you’d believe it.”
Who the hell is this man, and what did he do with my logical, grounded father?
“What happened next?” I ask, gripping my phone until the case creaks in my hand.
“So, I run out of the tent like an idiot, in bare feet, screaming your mother’s name.”
Another laugh, and I swear I can hear him shaking his head.
“The no-footprints thing. I think that’s what scared me the most. I quickly got dressed, ran back outside, and yelled for your mother at the top of my lungs. You know as well as I do that when Ellie got lost in her head, everything else became background noise.”
He’s right. I know that better than anyone.
“I set out in a straight line from the tent, never letting it out of my sight. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find my way back, even with my own footsteps to follow.
I made this pattern in several directions, and just when I thought I’d have to call emergency rescue, I noticed something glowing in the distance. ”
My breath catches. Glowing?
“Even though it was pretty far from the tent, I knew it had something to do with your mother. So, I slowly made my way to a pile of rocks stacked under an enormous pine tree. Your mother sat on the highest rock, in her nightclothes—no shoes, no coat—happily smiling at the sky.”
The image inks itself into my mind, too vivid to forget.
“I approached her as quietly as I could. I was worried she might be in the early stages of hypothermia, and I didn’t want to scare her or put any extra strain on her heart.
“But before I could say a word—without even glancing at me— she whispered, ‘Aren’t they beautiful, Eamon? I always knew they would be. Will you join me?’”
His voice drops, once again lost in the beautifully painful memory.
“I was about to wrap my coat around her when I felt the searing heat radiating off her body. It wasn’t feverish. It was just … wrong. Like something burning from the inside out. I should have pulled back. Some instinct deep in my brain screamed at me to stop … but I didn’t.”
A slow exhale crackles through the phone.
“When I took her hand, it was … warm. Not burning. Not painful. Just warm. So, I turned my attention to the sky. And, Aurora, she was right. The lights were breathtaking, but they were nothing compared to how your mother looked that night. She was a source of wonder. A spark of something magical. And I knew—I fucking knew—I’d protect her from this world, no matter what it took. ”
A big, stupid lump forms in my throat. I love my dad, but right now, in this moment, I somehow find a way to love him even more. Before I can speak around the lump, he continues.
“You’ve read the myths surrounding the Northern Lights, right?”
“Um, yeah. I think I looked them up when I was little, after you and Mom told me why you named me Aurora. Something about fire foxes, right?”
“Exactly. Though each myth is different depending on where it comes from. My favorite is from Finland. The Northern Lights are called revontulet—literally ‘fox fires.’ The legend says arctic foxes create the aurora when they run so fast that their tails spark against the mountains, lighting up the sky.”
A soft sniffle comes through the speaker.
“This next part is … well … Anyway, I had trouble keeping my eyes on the sky. Your mother was a vision that night. But I knew Ellie would be upset if I didn’t watch the lights, so I finally forced myself to look up.
“And I swear, SB, I saw them.”
I stop breathing, my body bracing for whatever comes next.
“A pack of playful fire foxes darted through the sky, their tails skimming the snow-capped mountains, sparks flying with every step. And when your mother giggled at my stupid, dumbstruck face, I fell in love with her all over again.”
Great, now the tears. They slip down my cheek before I even realize I’m crying.
“I watched the sky, sneaking glances at my new wife, just … thanking the universe for the chance to love her.”
His voice tightens, and I can almost see his face twisted in pain, trying to bring himself back.
“The foxes made their way through the sky several times. And then your mom slumped to the side … and the foxes vanished.”
My brain throws up an error message. I just …
“Aurora, I fucking panicked. I wrapped my coat around her, scooped her into my arms, and followed the fox-like paw prints back to the tent. I held her all night, questioning my sanity.”
His voice is rough now, worn at the edges.
“I could have walked away. Forced her to see a doctor. But she was something else. Someone to be protected. And I knew, in that moment … that was my job now.”
He goes quiet, the silence stretching thin across our connection.
But I have no clue what to say.
“Wow, Dad.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“I don’t even know how to respond. If this was coming from anyone else, I’d laugh it off.
But you’ve always been the grounded one in our family.
It just … sounds like something out of one of my books.
” I run a hand down my face and let out a sharp breath. “Christ. Tonight has been so strange.”
“I get it, princess.” His voice is annoyingly calm.
“And I know you probably have questions, but I don’t have any answers.
We never talked about it again. And while strange things happened in our home from time to time, it always felt safe.
Always felt like her. Your mother was a source of light in the world.
And I wouldn’t have done anything to dim that flame. ”
I rub a hand over my chest, where the old grief stirs like something half-awake.
“Ellie was certain you’d change the world, Aurora. And I’ve always agreed.”
I press my lips together, willing myself not to shatter.
“With that said, I thought sharing this story might make you feel better.” His words land soft, like he’s unsure. “Fuck, I don’t know. The world is so much more than work and bills and the bullshit we deal with every day. It’s complex. Layered. And sometimes? It’s goddamn magical.”
He pauses, his voice softer now. “So, if you say you saw or felt something … I believe you. I’ll always believe you, princess. I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.”
“I love you, Dad. And thank you for telling me. I’m not sure what I believe. Maybe I just got overwhelmed and imagined all of this. But … if it was something more, I’ll keep what you told me in mind.”
“I love you, too, Aurora. More than all the stars in the sky. And I’ll always be here for you. You know I can reach Lorewood in under three hours.”
A loud yawn comes through the phone, and I snicker.
“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best. I’ll call you soon. And please, for the love of your cholesterol, eat a salad this week.”
“No promises, princess.”
The call ends, but my mind won’t stop spinning. My dad’s always been the logical one—the one who kept me grounded. And now he’s telling me this?
Fire foxes and magic. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
I sigh, pressing my fingers hard into my temples. I need sleep. Maybe everything will make sense in the morning.
I drag myself to the front door and call for Louie one last time.
Her response? A sharp yip in the distance.
Yeah. She’s not coming in tonight.
I lock the door, shuffle to my bedroom, and collapse under the duvet.
My body begs for rest. But my thoughts won’t let me.
I never fully fall asleep. I just hover in that blurry space where dreams feel too real. Magic and monsters slip through the cracks, weaving themselves into my dreams, refusing to let me go.