The sacred grove of the Windward family was one of the most beautiful and restricted locations in the entire Northern continent—a place where ancient magic had preserved the natural wonder of the aurora borealis in permanent, ethereal display above a pristine winter landscape that seemed untouched by time itself. Getting access to this hallowed ground had required calling in a significant favor with Lucifer, but seeing Rachel's expression as we walked through the snow-covered path toward the grove's heart made every moment of diplomatic negotiation worthwhile.
"Arthur," Rachel breathed, her deep blue eyes wide with wonder as she took in the dancing lights overhead, "this is absolutely magical. I've heard about this place since childhood, but I never dreamed I would actually see it."
