Page 32 of Kraved By Krampus

A tap at the window startles me.Probably just a branch.

But the tapping continues, more insistent. A haunting melody drifts through the glass, beautiful and compelling. It reminds me of the song my mother sang to me when I was little. My legs move before I realize I’m standing.

Just a quick peek.

“Your tea, little mate.” Krampus’s voice breaks through the strange fog in my mind.

I blink, finding myself halfway to the window. “Did you hear that?”

His eyes narrow, and the temperature in the room plummets. “Hear what?”

The melody fades, replaced by the normal sounds of Magnus settling around us. “Nothing, I guess. Must be more tired than I thought.”

Krampus sets the tea down and crosses to the window, his massive frame blocking out the fading daylight. His shadow stretches across the floor, writhing with barely contained power.

“Magnus.” His voice carries an edge I’ve never heard before. “Strengthen the wards.”

The cabin groans in response. The walls seem to thicken, and the windows take on a slight golden sheen.

“What’s wrong?” I clutch my teacup, the warmth failing to chase away my sudden chill.

Krampus turns, his expression carefully neutral. “Just a precaution. The winter woods hold many dangers after dark.”

Like whatever I glimpsed in the shadows earlier?

The melody’s haunting notes still echo in my mind, but I force a smile. “I’m fine, really.” I lift my teacup, inhaling the comforting aroma of chamomile and honey. “Think I’ll work on my next chapter while everything’s fresh in my mind.”

My fingers trace the rim of the cup, remembering the strange energy I felt while storytelling. “Those kids today... they were something special.”

Krampus’s shoulders tense. His horns catch the firelight as he turns. “They were indeed.”

“The way they responded to the story...” I pause, searching for the right words. “It felt...”

“Natural?” His red eyes study me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.

“Yes, exactly.” I curl deeper into the armchair, pulling my notebook from the side table. “Like everything just clicked into place.”

He stands motionless for a long moment, shadows dancing at his feet. The temperature fluctuates—warm, cold, warm again—before settling.

“I need to attend to something.” His voice carries that formal tone he seems to use when hiding his thoughts. “Will you be comfortable here?”

Why do I feel like he’s asking more than just that?

“Magnus will keep me company.” I pat the armrest, and the chair hugs me closer. “Besides, I have tea, a fire, and words waiting to spill onto the page. What more could a writer want?”

His lips quirk, but the worry doesn’t leave his eyes. “Indeed.” He moves to the door, each step silent despite his size. “Stay inside, little mate. The wards will hold.”

Hold against what?The question burns on my tongue, but something in his posture stops me from asking.

“I won’t be long.” He pauses at the threshold, his massive frame filling the doorway. “And Clara?”

“Hmm?”

“If you hear that melody again...” His jaw clenches. “Call for me immediately.”

The heavy oak door closes behind him with a distinctive click, and Magnus’s locks slide into place. I stare at my notebook, pen hovering over the blank page.

What exactly happened out there today?

---