Lyn ran. Faster than she had ever ran in her entire life, and she kept going. She kept going when the roads turned into dirt paths, and the paths disappeared into grassy plains. Tears were streaming down her face, and she sobbed all the while she ran. Edyin’s dead. Those words echoed through her now empty heart, and Lyn recalled the time when she heard her baby sister laugh for the first time, that special glint in her crystal blue eyes that only appeared in the innocent and lovely. She cried and ran harder. Lyn turned a corner, momentarily blinded by her tear filled eyes and tripped on a jutting rock, so sharp it cut her ankle; the blood warm on her freezing skin. Lyn gnashed her teeth in pain. Not just the pain in her foot but the sharp pain in her soul. She got up quickly and ran onward. Fear flooded into her mind and the branches of barren trees cut her arms and face. Finally, she stopped, looked up to the sky and stopped. She let out a shriek of fury. No one would hold her and stroke her head. No one would pick her up and rub her cold hands. The gods only knew what Freyr was doing, probably picking a fight with Alistar about his dreadful family. Lyn gave out a forced laugh, touching the bruise on her brow that Master Slade had given her when she seethed at him and accused that snake for lying to her. She hissed, throwing her head back. She realized how similar the pink afternoon sunset resembled the faint flush on Edyin. That last thought cut Lyn off of her leash. She let go of all and any reason, not caring about wild dogs or cougars, or even Slade finding her . She just had to scream. A gut wrenching, heart breaking cry for help that the entire forest went silent for. Not a single bird song or insect buzz or a frog’s croak echoing in the distance. “I screwed up, leaving you, Edyin,” Lyn whispered, her voice breaking. “I- I was immature, and reckless, and wild, and maybe Ivan was right-”

But Lyn stopped dead. The words of a desperate, depressed girl still left unused on her tongue. Her eyes caught hold of something dancing in the distance. Lyn wasn’t sure it was what she thought it was until it made it’s great and grand way towards her. A lightning storm. Freyr had said there was going to be a storm that night but she never thought it would be, well, this; and Lyn recalled a memory of her father pulling Lyn back from under the bed during a lightning storm.

Lights were flashing, the cottage was shaking and so was Lyn. She didn’t like the noise. Her father laughed and hauled Lyn onto his lap. “Now, now, my little ball of light, you should not be afraid of this storm!” Lyn looked up to her strong father. “Why not, it’s blinding and the thunder is loud,” tiny Lyn stated, her high voice shrill. “It’s simple, Lynnie,” her father said, wrapping her small body in his arms, “your beautiful name, Lyn, derives from the Norwegian word, lightning.” Lyn scoffed, “why would you name me something scary like that, papa?” He grinned down at her with his entrancing brown eyes, and an exact copy was staring cynically back up at him. “Well,” he continued, “throughout many generations our ancestors have worshipped lightning. It was said that if there was a lightning storm, good luck and fortune would soon follow,” he patted her golden hair and smiled at the window, “and that only the brave would prevail.” Lyn then followed her father’s stare towards the window. Pride swelled in her tiny chest as she jumped off her father’s lap toddeled towards the window and opened it. Rain blew in and the lightning crackled its greeting. Lyn gave the thunderous storm a broad smile. She noticed the bolted windows and doors on the other houses and instantly felt bad. “Who would want to miss this?” She asked, and her father shrugged. Lyn realized, she wasn’t scared anymore.

Lyn was awoken from her memory by a bolt of lightning striking the hard ground in the north. She knew her father was telling her not to be afraid, and Edyin was saying to never stop being wild and beautiful. So Lyn got up, shook off the dirt, and marched off to change the world.