The fire rose high, its heat warming us as we sang and danced around it.
the Song of the Spirit carried on our voices.
But beneath the music,
there was a chill in the air,
something wrong.
something dark,
as though a shadow had seeped into the world unseen.
“My brother cried once, Father,” I said,
pride swelling in my chest.
“It was like he answered the thunder god himself.
Even the wolves are silent.
Even the dragon doesn’t strike.”
I ran my fingers gently over Stormborne’s face.
my baby brother, wrapped in warmth,
calm in a world that seemed to hold its breath.
Father War, chief of our people
placed a strong hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve noticed the strangeness too, Lore,” he said quietly.
“But tonight we don’t fear each other’s company we embrace it.
Tonight, my son, we celebrate.
Tomorrow… we stand guard.”
“Yes, Father,” I replied.
“As you consider.”
I stepped back and watched,
as he and Mother approached the fire.
They stepped ahead proud carrying Taranis wrapped in the freshly cut fox hide.
its red fur a symbol of cunning and strength.
War cleared his throat,
lifted the baby high,
and turned to face the tribe.
“I name him Stormborne,” he said,
“for he was born from the storm
the thirteenth son, under thunder and fire.
He will be a mighty warrior.”
The people gathered close.
One by one, they reached into the sacred ash. They marked the child’s forehead and chest black smudges to bind him to the tribe,to earth, flame, sky, and spirit.
Food and drink flowed.
Smoke curled into the sky.
Even the animals gathered at the forest edge to witness the naming.
So was born Taranis Stormborne
the thirteenth son,
the thunder child,
and the one the winds would never forget.
Further Reading
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