"'Why', the Mother asked the Demon of the Night. ''Because all that has a beginning has an end', the demon replied. 'As certain as the sun burn me until I die, as certain shall the two meet, so that the end may begin.'"

  The Book of Death

  Astrid sighed. She'd been feeling so tired, yet wired, tely. The school years were supposed to be fun, and maybe they were - for those who didn't have a stubborn three-year-old who's current fixation was spontaneously boycotting pre-school, refuse to eat any kind of vegetable ever cultivated, and to throw a fit every time someone suggested she'd wear mittens. Today, she sported all the above simultaneously. Currently sitting in the closet, hiding behind the pstic bag of scarves, sulking, back to Astrid and the tip of her little button nose against the wall.

  "Please Iris. We really have to go. I'll be te for school, and you'll miss out on all the fun things you and your friends will do today. You don't want to come with me to school. You'll think it's boring. There's nothing else to do but to sit still and be quiet all day long. There aren't even any toys at my school, it's not like yours. You don't want just sit still and be bored all day, do you?"

  "YES! I do want that!"

  "You don't. No one would py with you, no toys, not even crayons. Everyone just sits around and reads books."

  "I like reading books!"

  "No, not that kind of books..." Astrid gave up. "Mother! Could you help me, please!"

  Eleonore Seth popped her head through the doorway to the kitchen.

  "Iris Eleonora Seth, what are you doing in there? Come out this instant or I'll come in there and tickle you!"

  Silence. Nothing. Then the pstic bag in the closet began to move and suddenly a pair of round amber eyes became visible between coats and jackets. Copper-red curls sticking out in all directions around a face adorned with pale brown freckles, like milk chocote spshes on an otherwise perfectly white complexion. The hoodie she wore – her favourite because it had a picture from Fraggle Rock on it – was in a size meant for children older than her three, soon to be four years, but she demanded to wear it almost every day none the less. She'd simply just shove the arms up to her elbows and refuse to acknowledge it looked more like a dress than a sweater on her. Iris was a fine-limbed girl with a heart-shaped face and thick eyebrows over rge eyes with long, light shes that made her look mischievous and innocent at the same time.

  "I didn't want to come out, nana." A pink lower lip pouted under a nose slightly red after being squashed into the back wall of the closet.

  "Well, I could hear that loud and clear, couldn't I?" Eleonore crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorpost with a stern face, but the kind glitter in her eyes gave her away, as always. "What do your Highness want to do then, if you may ask?"

  "I don't want to go to school!"

  "Got that, sweety. But what will you do instead? Are you pnning on staying here alone all day?" Iris scrunched her face, confused by the question.

  "Not alone. Nana can be with me."

  "No, I can't. I'm going to the airport to fly in an airpne in just a while. Grandma won't be home again until tomorrow. Do you think you can be all alone until I come back?" The girl gnced at Astrid, but seemed to deem her unworthy as a solution. Astrid felt rejected. Again. She also felt jealous of the bond between her own mother and her daughter. Astrid often felt excluded. Eleonore had always had a better retionship with Iris, and to Astrid it seemed so effortless. So unfair. Astrid never knew how to handle Iris when she threw a fit, or defied her. She could never keep calm like Eleonore could. And Astrid never knew what to do when Iris got like... she sometimes did. When she got really angry. Or upset. Luckily the times it happened were rare and far between, and so far no one outside the closest family had seen it, but that was probably a matter of time. Astrid knew she avoided provoking her daughter out of fear of triggering an episode, and she was ashamed. It made her feel like a worthless mother, just as watching her mother and daughter lovingly banter right now did. It would seem Iris had come to some kind of decision, because she started putting her boots on.

  "Come, mama. We got to go." She looked at Astrid like she'd been the one making them te. But when Iris stretched her little hand out for Astrids', all was forgotten.

  Astrid grabbed the car keys to her new Golf and Iris backpack in one hand, and the girls' hand in the other, and off they went. The silver grey car parked on the street outside the building still gave Astrid a slight raise of pulse. She'd just recently gotten her licence to drive and still felt very inexperienced. Having Iris in the car with her added to the anxiety. But, the car was also freedom to Astrid, so she would never admit to anyone of being afraid. She was determined to become the best driver ever. With time. She strapped the girl to the car seat she and Walter had bought just a week earlier, so they wouldn't have to keep moving the one they had between her car and the family Mercedes all the time. Before closing the door she kissed her daughter on the forehead. She may not be the perfect mother, but no one loved Iris like she did. That much she was sure of.

  Iris watched her with steady eyes as she put a gear in and drove off.

  "Mommy, you should be happy." Astrid pinched her brows in surprise and almost forgot to watch the road.

  "What do you mean, munchkin? Mommy's happy. Are you happy, Iris?"

  "No. You're not happy. You're sad." Astrid could feel a familiar tingle spread down her spine. This was a conversation she did not want to have.

  "No, darling, mommy isn't sad." She let go of the steering wheel with one hand to pat the girls head, and as she did, she saw it. The pulsating glow. There, over her forehead. Then it was gone. Astrid wanted to cry.

  "I love you, mommy." The tears were impossible to hold in, but Astrid didn't feel she had to anymore. The words made warmth overcome the tingle. At least for now.

  "Not as much as I love you, kiddo." They sat quiet for a moment, until Iris continued:

  "I love many persons. I love nana, and papa. And Madde. And Mokey and the doozers." Fraggle Rock again.

  "You do love a lot of people. That's sweet of you."

  "I love dad."

  The tingle returned in an instant. Astrid didn't even realise she'd let her foot off the gas pedal before they slowed down so much the car behind the honked their horn at them. She accelerated again, frantically trying to figure out how to answer that. She wanted Eleonore to be there. She'd know what to say.

  "What, what did you say, darling?"

  "I love my dad too."

  "Oh? Who's dad, Iris?"

  "My dad's name is Max. Like the dog."

  Astrid never went to school that day. No one would scold her for missing that social studies test. It didn't matter. Instead, Astrid drove straight home, feeling like shards of ice was filling her veins. Or, not straight home. Not before having a long chat with Birgitta, who worked at Iris' pre-school. Astrid was told Iris had been talking about having a father named Max there as well. The staff working with Birgitta had just assumed Astrid met a boyfriend and that Iris had taken a liking to him. Kids did that; idolise new grownups. And the dog Iris had mentioned was a brown teddy animal that was her favourite toy of all in pre-school. Until recently she'd called it Sprocket, not very surprisingly as this was the name of the dog in Fraggle Rock. But a few weeks ago, she suddenly renamed the toy. She started insisting the dogs' name was now Max. Because it was the name of her daddy. When asked about it, Iris had told Birgitta that her father lived in a house, not as big as her grandparents but it had an apple tree in front of it.

  On the way home, Astrid tried to ask Iris subtle questions about Max. Iris told her that he tickled her when he kissed her forehead – and that told Astrid the man ciming to be Iris father had a beard or a stubble. She didn't dare ask Iris about the colour of the man's hair. She was afraid Iris would say it was dark brown.

  A strange man had approached Iris somehow. When or how was more than Astrid could fathom. Furthermore, this man had managed to convince Iris he was her father. Before leaving the pre-school that morning, she and Birgitta called the police. Even if no one at the school had seen anyone suspicious they had to assume this had happened during the hours Iris was in school. It was decided a general warning would be sent to all schools in the area. They also decided Iris would always be in the company of an adult, at all times. The upcoming picnic was cancelled, the kids would be having their picnic lunch on the premises instead.

  However, there were two things lingering in Astrids' mind. Two things making cold chills run along her spine.

  Astrid was the only person who knew the name of Iris father. Although Josefine knew the name, she never really believed the story of the strange boy only Astrid had seen. Josefine just assumed Astrid got pregnant by someone she didn't want to name, and as they never spoke of Max again Astrid was sure Josefine had forgotten about that name. Her parents had since long accepted they would never know the name of the man who got their daughter pregnant, she had never mentioned the name to them. She'd certainly not mentioned it to Iris. This was Astrid's first cause for worry.

  Then there was the matter of the comment Iris apparently made the week before. Astrid hadn't been aware until today, and she could understand why no one thought to tell her – it was such an insignificant thing. Or, it would have been, if Iris wasn't a child with special gifts and a skin that lit up now and then.

  It was just coincidental Birgitta was in the room when it happened. She reacted, because it was an odd thing for a three-year-old to say. But after, she'd forgotten all about it, and when she now told Astrid, she seemed a bit embarrassed. She really couldn't say why she felt she needed to share this with Astrid, it probably had no significance. Yet, she did. She told Astrid and was startled when Astrid's face turned pale as ash.

  "I can't recall what the conversation was about," Birgitta had told her. "Iris was making a drawing, I think, and Madeleine asked her about it. That's when she said it, and I remember feeling it was an unusual thing to say for such a small child. But, you know. She's got a rge vocabury for her age, I just figured she picked it up from you or Walter or Eleonore."

  "What did she say?" Astrid could hear the strain in her own voice. She wanted to sp the woman in front of her for not just telling her. Birgittas' cheeks flushed.

  "Destiny. It's what she said. Or, more like 'I am fate', or something like it. She told Madeleine the drawing was of her father, you and her because you were all... fate. Well, obviously not in those words exactly, it was a bit incoherent and hard to make out, and of course I may have misunderstood completely. But she did use the word fate, of this much, I'm sure. But... that wasn't the strangest part."

  "Birgitta. Will you please just tell me." Astrid was so close to tears now her eyes burned. The older woman sighed and nodded.

  "She told Madeleine she was fate. Not that she was destined or fated. She was fate. And then she said everyone would die because she had a light in her."

  "Do you ever think about fate, Astrid?"

  She'd not thought about those words in a long time. She desperately wished they could've continued to stay in the past.

  It couldn't be a coincidence. Whoever this stranger was, he knew things that only her and Max knew. So, before even taking off her shoes or helping Iris undress, she went for the phonebook in the hallway when they got home. Vargas. His name was Vargas. After making those fruitless attempts to find him when she discovered she was with child, she'd given up on finding him. She never tried again. She had no way of knowing if the people that were in this years' catalogue was the same people she'd called some four years ago, but it didn't matter. She would call them all, again. She gave Iris a colouring book and some crayons, a juice-pack and the crackers she loved, and then she closed the door to the kitchen and dialed the first number.

  "Anita Vargas." It was a friendly voice, a woman in her mothers' age, Astrid guessed. Maybe Max' mother?

  "Hi, my name is Astrid. I'm trying to find a boy, or a young man, named Max Vargas. Is he perhaps someone you know?"

  "Max? No, there's no Max here. It's just me just me and my husband."

  "Sorry if this comes off as intrusive, but do you mind telling me if you know anyone named Max Vargas? A retive, perhaps?"

  "Sorry, darling. We're a small family with no Max in it. But it probably won't be too hard locating this boy. Vargas is an unusual name in Sweden."

  "Yes... it is. Thank you."

  "Good luck."

  Disappointment clung to her when she hung up the phone. But there were more numbers to call.

  When Walter came home for lunch like he usually did, he was surprised to find his daughter and granddaughter in the kitchen. The table was cluttered with crayons and crackers, and phone books – the local one as well as the one with every phone number in the country. A notebook next to Astrid, filled with names and notes made with fury cing the handwriting. It wasn't difficult to see Astrid was angry about something.

  "What's going on, Astrid? Why are you two at home so early?"

  Walter could see stains from tears on her cheeks when she turned to face him. She'd been crying.

  "He doesn't exist! He doesn't fucking exist, dad. I've called them all!" The words were as close to a scream they could be without them actually being one. She was falling apart, this much was clear. Walter cautiously sat down next to his daughter. He tried to move slowly, not agitating her further. This was the most distraught he'd ever seen her.

  "Who is it you're looking for, love? What's going on?"

  Instead of answering, Astrid got to her feet. She took a few seemingly random steps towards the kitchen counter, then stopped. She shakily turned back around, walked back. Stared at the table in front of her. Then she stretched out her hand towards the phone book spread open on the table. Stroked the pages with her slim fingers. And then shoved the heavy book off the table, nding on the floor with a thud. Iris looked up, but quickly resumed to drawing. Walter waited a moment, letting the anger drain off Astrid just a little. She sat down again. And started talking.

  "It's not that I didn't want to tell you. I just knew you'd never believe me anyway." Walter continued to wait, his heart beating hard in his chest now. "His name is Max. Iris's father. It was the weirdest night of my life, and I think it's because of him that Iris has her seizures."

  Walter weighed his words carefully, not wanting to say anything that would make her stop talking.

  "How about you start at the beginning, darling." Astrid drew a shaky breath, close to tears. Walter couldn't resist, putting his big, warm palm over her cold and sweaty hands, shaking where she rested them on the table.

  "I know what I experienced. I know I met a boy, about my age, and I know we spent the whole night talking. Yet, I'm the only one who saw him, even though Jossan and several other people were there that night. No one remembers this boy, but me. But I know. I can't understand it. I just don't get it. And when we... When it..." Walter nodded. Astrid exhaled, relieved. "My skin shimmered when... it happened. Like Iris does. It was the exact same light. He told me not to be afraid of it, like he knew it would happen. Like he knew a lot of things. And after, he... he started crying, telling me it was unfair I'd never get to live a normal life after this."

  "What? Did he threaten you?"

  "No... I don't think he meant it like that. He was sad on my behalf, like he wished he could change this but couldn't. And the way he phrased it, it wasn't that he meant I was going to die... more like I would live, but not the life I thought I'd have. Not a normal life."

  "He had no way of knowing you'd become pregnant."

  "No, I know..." Astrid sighed and ran her hand through her bangs. It was so hard to expin. It wasn't even the things he'd said. It was that odd feeling of not having a choice. Of seeing his eyes shift colour. Of him vanishing into thin air. How could she ever expin this in a way that Walter would understand?

  "Dad... Do you really think..?" She nodded her head towards the child next to her. "Do you think all that's going on... that it's normal?" She gnced at the girl, but Iris seemed preoccupied with colouring a yellow dog, so Astrid continued. "She's got a vocabury and the ability to build sentences of a six-year-old, she's got an uncanny way of predicting things there's no way she should be able to know, and the light in her... I don't think Max meant the pregnancy. Do you?"

  Walter sighed as well. His daughters' word were far too wise for her age and it made his heart ache. He wanted her to have the same life as any other eighteen-year-old – even an eighteen-year-old with a child would be enough. Just... normal. It was all he wished for. Somewhat normal. But nothing about Iris was normal.

  "No, sweety. It's probably not what he meant. It's sad we seem to have such difficulties talking about this. It would probably have helped us, all of us." It was Valters turn to nod at the child. Astrid blinked. A tear eloped.

  "So, he's contacted you now, then? Max? What does he want? If it's her he's after, he better be prepared for a fight, and this is a fight he can't win, honey. You know this, don't you? No one's taking this bundle of joy away, ever. It will never happen."

  "He didn't contact me. He contacted her." Walters heart skipped several beats, it was like the air in his lungs froze in an instant. Rage and horror came gushing through him. The suit he wore suddenly felt heavy like armour made of steel. He stared at Astrid.

  "How the hell did he manage that!?" He couldn't stop himself. He was furious. At Astrid.

  Astrid winced. There it was again, that peculiar feeling of being in second pce in her parents' hearts. It always reminded her of the feeling she had that night, of not being in control. Of not having a choice. It felt like her parents had no choice but to care more about her daughter than they did of their own. Guilt and jealousy made her cheeks flush. But before she could answer, the phone in the hallway rang. Walter got up and answered. And it was in that moment their lives once again changed forever.

  The pne heading for Brussels had left Arnda on time. The weather had been clear, there had been no signals of anything unusual. Yet, only eight minutes after leaving ground, it crashed in a field after circling in a strange way and then suddenly dive towards the ground. It would be almost a year before it was concluded it had to be human error of some kind, a freak accident with no clear expnations.

  None of the passengers or the staff on the pne survived the crash. And Eleonore Seth was one of the 152 passengers.