The air in Veilheim stung - sharp, clear, almost glowing with frost. Not just freezing, but bright, like ice had a pulse. Snow lay thick, soft as crushed glass, covering old stone and soil alike. Sound vanished under it, smothered by layers of pale gray and icy blue. From jagged branches, icicles dangled - heavy drops turned solid, shimmering whenever the dim moon touched them. That ghostly light barely cut through; here, winter held daylight down, even at midday. It was peak season, when hidden power stirred below the cracked ground, humming under silence and endless night. Freyja perched on a rocky edge, battered by gusty air. A blue-tinted bay coat swirled with champagne hints, dappled in roan spots, marked like a wild cat’s fur. She cut a sharp shape against the washed-out sky - lean frame traced in white, ghost-like wings tucked tight beside her. Not moving much, just staring at frozen lace across stone, watching how the breeze shaped soft piles of snow into curves. More part of the land than apart from it, even now as something undead, each motion slow but full of weight. Up above, clouds thinned - the night felt ready for something. In the north of Veilheim, the northern lights just happened - solar wind meeting Earth’s magnetism in a quiet glow. Down south, though, things ran differently; magic pulsed through everyday moments like a heartbeat. There, the glowing skies weren’t random - they came each year on purpose, shaped by local talent. Skilled Veilhorns fired radiant beams upward, turning darkness into flowing waves of color and motion. It wasn’t about whether the show lit up - it always did - but whose touch made it feel alive. A gust of swirling snow whooshed in as Gabriel showed up. His sister Freyja stood firm and calm; he, on the flip side, burned bright - wild, flashy, alive with magic you could feel humming off him. Built like a horse but not quite one, his coat mixed tan, bay, champagne, patches, spots, layers - you’d need minutes just to name it all. Bones poked through his back, rough and sharp, proof he wasn’t fully flesh anymore. "Here you are, my quiet watcher,” Gabriel said, his deep voice slicing into the still chill yet somehow leaving it intact. Up the rocky edge he leapt - too smooth, too swift - hooves ghosting over frost without breaking its skin. “Lost in thoughts about how fragile a flake can feel, huh?” Freyja turned her head, her gaze calm. "Observing the intricate resilience of life, even in dormancy. And anticipating the chaos you are about to unleash upon the heavens." Gabriel snorted with laughter, breath swirling like smoke from his nose. "Chaos? Nah, sis - this ain't mess, it's craft. Raw magic, no filters. You strapped?" Freyja regarded him. "To observe, yes. To participate in your brand of spectacle… perhaps not in the way you envision." Gabriel always showed off his spells with pride. He enjoyed how wild magic felt under his control, exploding into bright flashes that danced across the sky. Still, Freyja often saw something missing - his work didn't flow like real northern lights do. Sure, it was impressive, yet somehow rigid, almost angular, more like carved glass than soft waves of fabric drifting in wind. When twilight thickened, the sky shifted from soft purple to deep dark. Down in the broad valley beneath the rocky hill, more Veilhorns started arriving. Each one looked different, glowing faintly with held energy, prepared for what would come next. Quiet anticipation spread among them like a breeze. Gabriel hung back slightly, spine lit by the pale glow of early stars. With a slow inhale, he pulled together the magic buzzing inside. It was time - time to send his spirit soaring up through the sky. His gaze met Freyja’s, not quite daring her… more like offering something. Freyja climbed down the rocky edge, her bony wings spreading just enough to grab the dim glow, shining like smooth white sails. Instead of moving next to Gabriel, she stayed a little way back, steady and quiet, holding things together without a word. A sudden burst came from Gabriel’s hands - his first attack launched fast. Up flew a bright green ray, solid and sharp, cutting through darkness like something alive. After it blazed a pinkish-purple flash, then a hot golden slash. Others joined in without delay - one fired deep blue, another fiery red, one after another lighting up the air. Each streak showed what they could do, no words needed. The sky started lighting up with bright, sharp pillars stretching across. Pretty amazing - no doubt about that. Yet Freyja noticed a deeper meaning hidden underneath. She shut her eyes briefly, allowing her inner force to hum. Yet soon she sensed delicate flows high above, hidden gusts destined to paint a sky glow. Meanwhile, cold nipped at her skin, while light bent through tiny frozen shards, along with the hush of Earth’s pull. Once her gaze lifted, it sparkled more than before. While Gabriel readied another detailed attack - a mix of deep blue and purple meant to burst into a starry cloud - Freyja shifted. Not with drama or flash. Quietly, barely noticeable. A pale blue shine started pulsing along her bones, matching the chill gleam of moonlight. Her wings, often frozen in place, twitched faintly, stirred by something like a whisper of air. When Gabriel’s magic flared up, wild and sharp, Freyja stayed quiet. Not adding power, but shaping what was there. Through stillness inside, her earth-born force stretched forward - soft, unseen. She met the rigid arcs of his spellwork, nudging corners into bends. The explosive surge bent under her touch, learning rhythm, sway, movement like vines growing - not chaos, but life finding form. The green light, stiff at first, started to flicker and twist, curling up like a glowing snake. Instead of just floating, the pink and yellow trails wove together, spinning into a living pattern that pulsed slowly. Freyja shaped everything without touching it - like an artist guiding raw power into motion. She kept a blank expression, yet inside, a small pride quietly grew. Gabriel stopped mid-step while pulling off a flashy red flare. He squinted at what he’d made - those stiff shapes now curling and moving on their own, doing stuff he didn’t plan but kinda loved. Sharp corners? Gone. In came hazy glows that floated like smoke. Hues didn’t fight anymore; they melted together smooth, almost like paint swirling in space. He looked over at Freyja again. Not firing off beams. No flashy moves or big motions. Just her bony wings shifting slightly, her body giving off a soft shimmer - barely there. But still obvious. His sister, tied close to earth and wild things, was blending her energy with his, turning brute force into something graceful. She didn’t summon the lights - they changed when she touched them, started moving like real auroras up north. A big, happy smile lit up Gabriel’s face. "You crafty one," he said softly, then tipped his head back and laughed loud and wild. "Fine, sis - time to put on something they won’t walk away from!" He tried again, shoving more magical power up into the clouds, counting on Freyja to mold it right. Bright blue flashes came first, followed by golden ones, then rich dark blue - each guided quietly by Freyja’s hand. With soft winds and hidden forces in play, she twisted them into the spellwork. The glow started to wave and throb, spreading out like huge colored sheets drifting overhead. They curled and dropped, forming ghost-like figures - a running group of deer, a giant snake twisting among constellations, before fading into wild, stunning designs. The valley down below filled with shimmering light. While some Veilhorns had been busy adding their own sparks, they one by one stopped - drawn in by what Gabriel and Freyja built side by side. Above, the heavens moved like a rhythm, wild magic mixing with soft natural beauty. The glow softened to a quiet rhythm of flickering shades, washing the dark above in traces of purple and warm yellow. Then Gabriel looked at Freyja - his gaze full of win and raw care. "The greatest aurora Veilheim has ever seen," he declared, nudging her gently with his muzzle. "And all thanks to your… subtle intervention." Freyja tilted her head, a faint, almost imperceptible curve on her lips. "Your power provides the spectacle, brother. I merely remind it of its true nature. A collaborative effort, wouldn't you say?" Gabriel laughed, a warm sound in the crisp winter air. "Indeed. A perfect blend of arcane might and natural grace. Even a majestic lich such as myself needs a stoic, nature-loving seraph twin to keep my magic from being too… chaotic." He winked. Freyja just stood there, eyes on the fading glow that lingered like breath on glass - slowly slipping away. The heavens stayed alive with soft pulses, glowing faintly, no longer seeming made up or forced. Instead of tossing bright bolts into the air, she'd poured something deeper into it - the quiet core of who she was. Magic settled into its own pace, unhurried, almost breathing on its own. Deep inside Veilheim’s frozen season, two death-winged beings shaped the dark above, moving together in sync, their connection burning as strong as the colors swirling overhead.