Page 39 of Kraved By Krampus

The hurt in his voice cuts deeper than his rage. Shame burns in my chest, warring with my instinct for self-preservation.

The front door slams, making me flinch. Through the kitchen window, I watch Victoria’s white Mercedes disappear down the driveway, leaving tire tracks in the fresh snow. My hands shake as I grip the edge of the counter, steadying myself.

The shadows around Krampus writhe and twist, reflecting the storm of emotions I see in his burning gaze.

“Krampus, I—”

“Do not.” His voice cuts through the air like a blade of ice. “You made your choice quite clear.”

I step toward him, reaching out. “Please, let me explain.”

He moves away from my touch, and the rejection stings worse than the cold. The shadows that usually dance around him begin to fade, pulling back into nothing. The warmth that constantly radiates from him whenever he’s near disappears, leaving me feeling hollow.

“I thought...” His voice drops to a whisper that somehow hurts more than his anger. “I believed you were different.”

The magical energy that usually fills the house begins to dissipate. The gentle hum of Magnus’s presence fades. The ever-burning fire in the hearth dies. Even the enchanted spice rack that always knows exactly what I need goes still and ordinary.

“Wait!” Panic claws at my chest. “Don’t go. I was scared. I’ve worked so hard to build this career, this life—”

“And I was fool enough to think I could be part of it.”

Krampus steps into the shadows, but before he disappears completely, he turns back. His eyes no longer burn with anger or hurt—they’re just... vacant. “You wished to maintain your perfectly ordinary life. Consider it done.”

He dissolves into darkness, taking with him the wonder and magic that had filled my world these past days.

As the last traces of magic vanish from the air, it leaves everything feeling flat and lifeless. Empty. Like a story without a soul. The kitchen feels smaller somehow, colder. Ordinary.

I slide down against the counter until I hit the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. The silence in my head where his presence used to be echoes like a scream.

What have I done?

Chapter twenty

Clara

The silence crushes me as I sit on the cold kitchen floor. My fingers trace the now-ordinary tile where magical warmth once pulsed beneath the surface. Everything feels wrong—muted and dull, like a painting that’s lost all its color.

I push myself up on shaky legs and walk through the house. Each step echoes in spaces that used to be filled with Magnus’s gentle presence. The bookshelves that once rearranged themselves stand motionless. The kettle that knew everyone’s perfect tea temperature sits cold and ordinary on the stove.

It’s just a house now.

My chest aches as I climb the stairs, my hand sliding along the banister that no longer warms to my touch. The steps don’t adjust their height to make my climb easier. They’re just... steps.

The library door creaks open—a normal, mundane sound instead of Magnus’s usual greeting. The reading nooks that used to appear exactly when I needed them are gone, leaving bare walls in their wake.

“Magnus?” My hopeful whisper falls flat in the empty air. No response, of course. No subtle shift of furniture or friendly creak of floorboards.

I sink into my favorite armchair, the one that used to adjust to cradle me perfectly. Now it’s just leather and stuffing, nothing more. My fingers clutch the arms, searching for any hint of the magic that once thrummed beneath the surface.

Nothing.

The winter sunlight streaming through the windows feels harsh and cold without Magnus’s gentle filtering. Even the eternal view of snowy woods has vanished, replaced by the actual forest outside—beautiful but static, lacking the ethereal quality it once possessed.

A tear slides down my cheek as I realize how much I took for granted. The way Magnus would warm my tea when I was lost in writing. The subtle ways the house arranged itself to create perfect moments between Krampus and me. The feeling of being surrounded by caring magic, like living inside a heartbeat.

I chose this, I remind myself.I chose ordinary. I chose safe.

But as I sit in this hollow shell of what was once a magical sanctuary, “safe” feels a lot like “empty.”

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