The Arctic air was crisp as I reached my destination, greeted by the quiet presence of an igloo standing alone in the snow, its curved walls glowing faintly under the night sky.

As I prepared my camera, the first hints of green flickered above, growing into shimmering curtains of light.

The Inuit believe the aurora is a bridge between the living and the spirits, and watching the lights swirl overhead, I could almost hear the laughter of ancestors playing among the stars.

For a moment, I wasn’t just an observer—I was part of the story.