3.30 – Her Mystique

Aurora’s eyes followed her girlfriend’s every movement, entranced as she watched with rapt attention. Mistral moved lithely, deliberately, her motions reminiscent of a dance—but this was no mere performance. Her body flowed through the space with reverence, each gesture steeped in meaning. It was beautiful to watch, and yet, Aurora could feel the power building around them.

Then, the fire dimmed. It flickered, morphing, then suddenly flared back to life, burning brighter than before—so bright it became impossible to look away.

Within the flames, something took shape.

Lines, patterns—an outline of a complex matrix, a shifting, glowing web that pulsed with unseen energy. Then, from the heart of the fire, a figure rose. Its form grew in size, shifting between something animalistic and human, something both familiar and unknowable. It solidified, standing at least a head or two taller than Mistral.

Mistral stopped moving. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees, lifting her hands high in a strange, reverent salutation.

“Favored Daughter, I have responded to your plea… you seek answers to address your new foe… in the past.” The being’s voice rumbled like distant thunder, reverberating through the lodge. “I will peel back the curtains and allow you to walk these dangerous paths… but I see you have a… companion.”

Aurora swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very small. This entity was powerful—beyond powerful. Her aura flared instinctively, though she willed herself to remain still.

Mistral spoke with quiet reverence. “Great Manitou, this is a woman I deeply care for. And she has asked to walk by my side in this quest. Please allow her to accompany us.”

The spirit crossed its arms, tilting its head in consideration. A deep, trilling hum resonated from it, something neither wholly human nor beast. Finally, it nodded.

“Although we are not in the habit of providing comfort to those from outside our realm, because there will be danger, and because we sense her benevolence, we will bend these laws for her.”

The flames shifted, and suddenly the figure loomed toward Aurora, its presence pressing against her like a physical force.

“But we will brook no dissent from you, daughter from the stars.” Its voice curled around her, inside her, like a whisper and a roar at once. “The events you will see are set, and the powers that have been granted to our Favored Daughter may not be changed. You come as her beacon, not proxy. Do you understand?”

Aurora’s heart pounded as she met its gaze.

Holy shit, that’s intimidating.

Perhaps not provoking the eldritch spirit would be a wise course of action, Holly murmured dryly in her mind.

Aurora straightened slightly, keeping her expression composed. “Honestly, I—I’m not sure that I do… but I want to do what I can to help my Mistral.” She essayed a charming smile, attempting to ease the tension. “I will do exactly as she tells me.” She fluttered her lashes just a little for good measure.

The Great Manitou scoffed, its presence retreating slightly.

“Then let the journey begin.” The fire flared again, wilder, higher. “Favored Daughter, if you watch, you will find the answers you seek… however, these answers may not be to your liking. It will be up to you to choose how to address any revelations as they truly become clear.”

Mistral exhaled softly, nodding in understanding. She turned to Aurora with a reassuring smile, stepping closer. She reached out, offering her hand.

“Are you ready to go?”

Aurora’s fingers curled around Mistral’s, squeezing gently. “Definitely.”

This was not what she had expected…

It was better.

When their hands met, the fire shimmered, and the spirit gestured as if pulling away an unseen curtain. Tendrils of magic unfurled around them, weaving from the flames, from the Great Manitou itself. Mistral led Aurora forward, straight into the blaze. Neither hesitated. Without fear in their hearts, they stepped into the fire.

FLASH.

Aurora found herself abruptly seated in an economy class seat aboard an airplane. Disoriented, she blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She had never been on a plane before—so why did she suddenly feel the hum of engines beneath her, the cramped space pressing in on her wings? She gaped, twisting in her seat, scanning the narrow row and the unfamiliar passengers seated around her.

“THIS is…!” Mistral gasped beside her.

Aurora’s wings, still extended, brushed the seats on either side, but oddly, no one reacted to her presence. The size of the plane itself felt smaller than she’d expected, almost claustrophobic. Lightning flickered outside the windows, illuminating the storm-ridden sky. The realization hit her—they were airborne. Or at least, whatever counted as "airborne" inside a vision woven from magic and memory.

Sensing Aurora’s confusion, Mistral leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re in a small propeller plane. A passenger plane, yes, but not a big jet like the ones you’ve probably seen.”

Aurora nodded absentmindedly and leaned toward the window. The plane’s wing jutted out beside her, two propellers churning through the turbulent air. Her gaze shifted across the cabin, but none of the passengers so much as glanced at her. It was eerie. Then she saw her.

A small teenage girl sat a few rows ahead—dark-skinned, jet-black hair falling around her face. Aurora’s eyes darted to Mistral, watching her stare at the girl with an expression of quiet devastation.

That’s her.

Aurora’s wings shrank to chibi-size in response, instinctively minimizing their space. Denise as a kid… A bubble of joy rose in her chest, momentarily eclipsing the strangeness of their situation. She bounced slightly in her seat, unable to stop herself.

“It really is you!” Aurora grinned. “You’ve always been so cute…”

Mistral blushed at the outburst, shifting awkwardly. “It’s… I mean, I was really young then.”

Aurora’s attention returned to the younger Denise, her heart aching at how small she looked. The girl sat curled in her seat, a copy of Stardust by Neil Gaiman resting closed in her lap. Every time the thunder rumbled, she stopped what she was doing, eyes darting toward the window.

The plane gave a sharp tremor, jolting Aurora slightly. The seatbelt light flickered on overhead, and suddenly, the main cabin lights cut out, plunging the space into dim emergency lighting. A hush of unease swept through the passengers.

Young Denise’s breath hitched audibly. The woman beside her—her mother?—immediately turned to comfort her, whispering reassurances over the escalating turbulence.

Beside her, her Mistral squeezed Aurora’s hand tightly, her own breath shaking as she relived the memory.

Aurora squeezed back, her voice soft but firm. “Is this a bad experience you had?” It was an obvious question, but she felt compelled to ask. Her fingers stroked Mistral’s arm in silent comfort. “Is this when you got your powers?”

She felt Holly’s presence stir inside her communicator, the AI’s voice slipping into her thoughts with calculated neutrality.

There is a strong possibility that the events unfolding are tied to her metahuman awakening. Given the extremity of the situation, a survival-driven mutation could be a logical catalyst.

Aurora barely had time to process that before the cabin lurched.

A screeching sound tore through the plane. Aurora snapped her head toward the source, eyes widening in horror as one of the wings ripped free, shearing away in a violent explosion of debris. The entire aircraft jolted violently. A section of the fuselage peeled away, ripping a gaping hole down the side of the cabin.

Passengers screamed. Their seats tore loose, entire rows of people getting sucked into the abyss. The sudden decompression sent loose objects flying, air roaring through the space in a deafening howl.

Aurora tried to bolt upright, instinct kicking in as she rushed to save them—only to be trapped by her unreleaseable seatbelt.

Mistral reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling her back in a sign to not do anything. Aurora turned, eyes frantic. “Mistral—”

Mistral only shook her head, her grip firm, her face stricken.

Aurora’s breath hitched. “Did this really happen to you?” Her voice cracked. “Is this a vision of the past? Has all this already happened?”

She could barely hear herself over the chaos, but Mistral’s haunted eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Mistral’s face was a storm of emotions. “This… is the moment my family died…” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the chaos engulfing the cabin. The plane plunged faster, the screaming nearly drowned out by the deafening roar of wind and failing metal. The pressure drop was suffocating, stealing the breath from passengers as they clung desperately to their seats, their only anchor against the abyss.

Another seat tore free, its occupant flailing wildly before being sucked into the void. The echo of their final scream faded into nothingness. The oxygen masks finally deployed, swaying uselessly as panic took hold of those who remained. No one was thinking clearly—fear had consumed them entirely.

The young Denise’s Stardust novel was yanked from her lap and lost to the wind as she fumbled for her mask. Her trembling fingers struggled to secure it before reaching for the older woman beside her. A blinding flash of lightning filled the cabin, momentarily stealing sight from even the two present-day observers.

Another strike. A terrible screech of metal. The remaining wing was ripped clean off.

The plane spun violently, now nothing more than a missile hurdling toward its inevitable destruction. A new rupture in the fuselage split open near them. The older woman beside young Mistral was sucked through the jagged tear—but not cleanly. The gap was too small, and what remained was only a gruesome mist.

The little girl reached for her, but it was too late. Too late.

Aurora gritted her teeth, heart pounding as the nightmare unfolded. Then, abruptly—the descent stopped.

Not a crash, not an explosion. Just… stopped.

A blizzard poured into the plane, rolling in like a living thing, thick and unnatural. It wasn’t just the cold—it was sucking the heat out of the air. The few passengers still screaming fell silent as frost overtook their skin.

The two nearest to the gaping hole froze solid before they could even unbuckle their seatbelts.

Aurora gripped the nearest seat, instinctively wrapping her aura around Mistral to steady her. Her mind reeled. She had faced horrors before—monsters, criminals, things she couldn’t begin to explain—but this? Watching an entire plane of people meet their end, watching Mistral live it all over again?

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at an airplane the same way again.

She pulled Mistral closer, her voice barely escaping her throat. “W-w-wait… was that woman your…?” She swallowed hard, not even able to finish the question. And now people were freezing solid? What the hell was going on?

Mistral turned to her, her eyes red with grief, her expression carved from sorrow, rage, and something deeper—something shattered. She didn’t need to answer. Her face said it all.

And then, the plane tore open completely.

The entire top peeled away like a flimsy lid, and they appeared.

Great beings loomed outside, humanoid only in the vaguest sense. Their towering forms crackled with energy, the air around them seething with elemental violence. They radiated malice, their very presence a violation of everything Aurora understood.

One, composed of ice and hail, reached into the cabin. A simple, elegant motion—like one might smooth a wrinkle from a fine garment—was all it took. The entire row of passengers beneath his touch crystallized into frozen statues.

Another, its body a swirling mass of ink-black storm clouds, reared its head. From deep within its throat, lightning flashed, culminating in a thunderclap so powerful it shook the vision itself.

The sound was unbearable. Even the present Mistral and Aurora flinched.

The young Denise clasped her hands over her ears, her entire body trembling. The passengers, the ones who hadn’t yet perished, scrambled in blind terror. They were barely alive, but not for much longer.

A fierce wind swept through the cabin, a howling vortex that grabbed the remaining survivors, pulling them toward the sky.

Mistral let go of Aurora’s hand, rising into the air. Her face was set, not with grief this time, but with pure fury.

“Not again! Not this! I can stop you myself now!” she cried, her voice raw.

Aurora’s heart clenched. No… this isn’t how it happened. She’s trying to fight them here, in the vision!

The creatures ignored her. They weren’t bound to this moment—she was. They continued, unbothered, their slow massacre pushing toward the younger Mistral. As the row behind her was claimed by tendrils of twisting wind, young Denise clapped her hands together and began chanting.

It wasn’t English. It wasn’t any language Aurora had heard before. The words carried weight, vibrating in the air, reverberating through time itself.

The clouds above split, and from the heavens, a golden light poured through, cutting through the nightmare with an almost divine finality. The glow was absolute, as though reality itself had bent to make way for something greater.

Descending gracefully within that radiance was a woman—one who bore a striking resemblance to Mistral, yet was undeniably different. Her golden hair shimmered like spun sunlight, cascading in waves that framed her regal presence. Crystal-blue feathered fetishes stood from an intricate tiara and headdress, accentuating the depth of her sapphire eyes. She wore a streamlined bodysuit, sleek yet ceremonial, baring her shoulders in elegant confidence. At her throat, a gleaming blue gem pulsed with an almost hypnotic light.

Aurora’s breath hitched. “Who is that? Is that golden light… coming from her?”

The realization stirred something deep within her. A memory—faint and distant, but unmistakable. Mistral used to have golden hair, didn’t she? In the earliest memories of her childhood, she recalled watching news reports, seeing images of the heroic woman with locks that gleamed like the sun. At some point, the descriptions changed. The reporters had suddenly begun describing her with platinum-blonde, almost silvery hair.

Aurora had assumed it was just a stylistic change, the way some heroes evolved their aesthetics over time. But now… now she wasn’t so sure.

Before she could process it further, Mistral suddenly surged forward, raw desperation fueling her power. Wind howled, energy crackled—she was mustering everything she had, reaching out in a futile attempt to defy time itself.

Aurora’s eyes widened in alarm. “Mistral, wait!” She lunged toward her, reaching out as if sheer willpower alone could anchor her back to reality. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do this!” Desperation bled into her voice. “This is a vision of the past. Nothing we do here will change anything. You can’t rewrite what’s already written!”

Mistral didn’t listen. She wouldn’t. She summoned a bolt of lightning, her power crackling to life as she hurled it at the storm entities.

It passed through them. Harmless. Ineffectual.

Her frustration only made her draw in more power.

The temperature dropped further. The plane itself groaned under the pressure. Aurora’s field kept the cold at bay, but she felt it leeching into everything, clawing for something to consume.

Mistral was in the process of making her own storm.

Aurora spun toward her, panic setting in. “Mistral! It’s not going to work!”

Mistral wasn’t listening.

The golden light bore down upon the creatures, and for the first time, they faltered. A tremor ran through their forms as they instinctively recoiled, sensing a force far greater than their own.

Above the airplane, the Mistral of the past unleashed searing beams of light, her voice ringing through the chaos in a powerful incantation. The storm-beasts howled as the radiance lanced through them, their forms flailing under its merciless touch.

Aurora stretched a hand toward her love, her voice thick with desperation. “Calm down! I know it’s agony. I know you’re suffering… but please—don’t lose yourself to the pain, Mistral!”

Mistral trembled violently, her body rigid, her expression contorted with fury and sorrow. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her face flushed with emotion, yet the tears streaming down her cheeks spoke of a deeper, more fragile pain.

Aurora slowly floated closer, wrapping her arms around her. Mistral was cold—her body like frozen stone, unyielding to the touch. But the moment Aurora’s warmth pressed against her, Mistral gasped. Her breath hitched, and her frame shuddered, instinctively leaning into the comfort being offered. Her eyes, still burning with anguish, met Aurora’s.

“A-Aurora…” she choked out. “Leona… I… f-forgot… why… why did I…?” Her voice cracked, and whatever fierce resolve had carried her this far crumbled as the weight of everything came crashing down.

She’s unraveling, Holly murmured softly into Aurora’s mind. 

Aurora knew she had to ground her before she drowned in this memory and acted without hesitation, squeezing Mistral even closer, pressing their foreheads together, letting the warmth of their shared presence anchor her to the now.

Then, a booming voice split the storm.

The golden light intensified, swelling with raw, divine energy. Aurora turned toward the Mistral in the sky, her breath catching as the radiant figure looked down with an expression that was both commanding and reverent.

“It is time, Mother,” the past Mistral declared, her voice rich with solemnity. “Please animate my weak mortal frame and punish our enemies.”

The golden light around her crashed down like a celestial wave, suddenly shifting from benevolent radiance to something more oppressive, demanding. A presence far beyond mortal comprehension took root inside her, and the power rippling from it sent shivers through Aurora’s spine.

It was familiar.

Then, the golden-haired Mistral’s eyes sharpened, her irises burning with an intense blue fire. When she spoke, her voice was no longer hers alone.

“Beasts of the North,” the entity intoned, its voice resonant with ancient authority, “I have turned a blind eye to your depredations so long as they plagued only those who brought destruction to The People… but today, you have attacked one who is of The People… and I have heard her words.”

Aurora’s breath hitched. The presence was unmistakable now. The Great Manitou… the same one from the present.

The storm creatures recoiled, hissing and twisting in the air as though the very essence of their existence was rejecting the force before them.

“Manitou!” one of them spat, its tone half-snarling, half-pleading. “How were we to know?”

A monstrous voice, deep and glacial, rumbled through the storm as the being of ice and snow spoke. “Have others not cried out to you in the old words many times before?” its tone was as unyielding as a mountain. “Do not trouble us over this insignificance.”

The last, the one formed of swirling tornadoes, exhaled heavily, its distorted voice betraying a tremor of fear. “We must flee, brothers!” It turned, attempting to vanish into the storm.

But the golden light surged. A beam of pure radiance shot out, lancing through the air, freezing them in place as though the very will of the Manitou had shackled them.

“I am the Great Spirit of The People,” the voice rumbled, final and absolute. “And my ways are my own.”

The power in the air thickened, pressing down upon the spirits like the weight of a world unseen.

“This girl has cried out for protection against wicked beasts,” the Manitou continued, unwavering, “and I am honor-bound to provide it.”

Then, the golden light around Mistral moved. It condensed, shifting away from her body as if taking on a will of its own.

The celestial force stepped forward, detaching itself from her entirely.

The figure it formed was tall, strikingly regal. At first, it took the shape of a Native man clad in traditional leathers, his presence commanding and eternal. But as it strode toward the young Denise, the shape shifted—shimmering, distorting—until it became a woman with flowing dark hair that billowed around her unnaturally, as though caught in unseen currents.

She regarded young Denise with a gaze both gentle and unyielding.

“My Favored Daughter,” the Manitou addressed her, voice now rich with something almost… sorrowful. “I have been indolent for too long… So I ask you, what should be done? How should these terrors be punished?”

Aurora tensed. She knew what was coming before the words even left their lips.

“I want you to destroy them,” both Mistrals—past and present—said in unison.

Aurora winced, watching the pain etched into Mistral’s expression. She didn’t judge her for it. How could she? What would I have done, if it were me? If this had been her family, her tragedy… would she have asked for mercy?

Mistral turned suddenly, embracing Aurora, burying herself in her warmth. Aurora held her fiercely, letting her know she was still here, still real.

The Manitou regarded young Denise solemnly. “I may banish them for an age… but they will eventually return. Creatures such as they… do not die. Certainly not easily.”

“Then jail them!” Young Denise’s voice shook with desperation, with fury. “They’re criminals! Monsters!”

The Manitou considered this, then nodded. “There is a way… but it will be difficult and treacherous. It will bring both boon and bane.” She glanced at Aurora and the older Mistral watching from the present. “One day, however, you will have to make a choice.”

She turned back to young Denise. “For now, their punishment shall be this: their power will be turned to good.”

Raising one hand, the Manitou swept her palm toward the storm creatures, their howls of protest turning into screams of agony as tendrils of golden light wrapped around them, pulling them inexorably toward young Denise.

Aurora’s stomach twisted as she realized what was happening. Oh no… she’s absorbing them!

The Three Beasts collapsed into streams of energy, their very essences being forced into Mistral’s spirit. The golden light wove them together, binding their power to her own.

The Manitou’s hand remained on young Denise, no, Mistral’s head, steadying her as the process completed. “It is done.”

Aurora shuddered. No wonder she’s so powerful… She wasn’t just given power. She was forged into something else.

The Manitou sighed as she looked down at the girl, brushing a hand gently over her hair. “You have suffered much, Favored Daughter. Rest now, and when you awaken, you shall be with others who will care for you.”

A soft warmth washed over the young Mistral, her body swaying.

“This burden will remain enshrouded in shadow until you have matured enough to understand it.”

Mistral fought to keep her eyes open, her lips parting in protest. “But… I’m not… sleeeeeeeepy…”

Her head lolled back. The fight left her. She succumbed to sleep.

The Mistral in Aurora’s arms had stopped sobbing and began pulling back. "I’m sorry… I… don’t know why I… it’s not important."

Aurora tightened her hold slightly before letting her retreat, keeping her hands on her arms. "Don’t know why what?" she pressed gently. "It’s important. Everything you’re feeling now is. Any of it could be a clue to solving this mystery."

She was both pleased and horrified to have witnessed the moment Mistral had received her powers—to finally understand a piece of the life story of her greatest love and hero. It was more than she had ever expected, more than she thought possible, and far, far sadder. Mistral had wrapped herself in mystery, a protective shield to keep the pain compartmentalized.

Compartmentalized, yes, but never truly contained, Holly murmured in Aurora’s thoughts, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. Memories like these never stay buried forever. Sooner or later, the past catches up to the present.

The pair held each other for a while before Aurora had to ask, “So, you have silver hair. Who was the one with golden hair?”

“The previous Mistral, as you probably surmised. We can discuss it after we’re through this trial but suffice it to say, she gave me everything, including her greatest burden - the mantle of Mistral. It only adds to the weight of this day.” Mistral adjusted herself to nestle herself against Aurora. 

Aurora exhaled softly, stroking Mistral’s arm in reassurance. "You don’t have to carry this alone. Any of it."

As they held each other, time accelerated unnaturally. The sun rose and fell five times within the span of a minute. They stood in a whirlwind of shifting days and nights as events played out around them. Rescue crews arrived, finding the young Mistral to be the sole survivor. Medics lifted her onto a stretcher, checking her vitals, murmuring in hushed disbelief.

Investigators combed through the wreckage, their faces pale. "This storm… it wasn’t natural," one of them muttered. "The way some of these people died… it was like the weather itself was alive. Like it had a vendetta."

Aurora shivered. A vendetta. The words clung to her mind, stirring something deep and unsettling.

Suddenly, Aurora’s hair stood on end, an unnatural charge crackling in the air. A shadow moved above, descending from the swirling clouds.

Mistral spun in an instant, pushing away from Aurora, her stance shifting into something fierce and defensive.

The humanoid figure loomed, its body shifting and roiling, its form composed of ink-dark storm clouds, lightning flickering in its chest like a heartbeat.

It raised its hands in mock surrender. "Now, now, 'Favored Daughter’," it purred, "surely, this is no way to treat one of your guests."