“It’s quite the coincidence, is all. November twenty-third, twenty-eight years ago—the first time you saw the aurora, and the day I was born.” There’s no way. “Are you fucking with me?” “Nope,” Rora replies, shaking her head and fighting a laugh at the shock I can feel written all over my face. Better shock than everything else I’m feeling; my mind screams at me that there’s been a thread of fate tying us together all this time. A cruel fucking thread, all things considered.
