Page 55 of Kraved By Krampus

My gaze drifts to the upper floors of the academy, where ornate windows peek through the swirling snow. “And the others? The ones who don’t go home?”

Krampus’s shadow ripples across the courtyard. “Follow me.”

We ascend a grand staircase, each step illuminated by floating orbs of blue flame. The temperature drops as we climbhigher, but I barely notice the chill anymore.My magic has changed me more than I realized.

The upper level opens into a different world entirely. Older students, teenagers mostly, practice more complex magic. In one room, a girl weaves shadows into intricate patterns. In another, a boy conducts what looks like an orchestra of ice crystals.

“These are my foundlings.” Pride resonates in Krampus’s voice. “Children whose gifts were too strong to hide, whose families couldn’t—or wouldn’t—understand.”

A knot forms in my throat.Like me, if I’d known what I was sooner.

“They become the guardians of winter magic.” He gestures to a young woman teaching younger students. Frost patterns dance around her hands as she demonstrates a spell. “Many join the Winter Court as advisors or teachers. Others become protectors of magical children in the modern world.”

“Like Mrs. Redmond?” The pieces click into place.

“Precisely. She was one of my first foundlings.” His lips curve into a rare smile. “Now she identifies children with magical potential, guides them—and their parents—through the transition.”

A group of older students passes us, their uniforms adorned with silver symbols that remind me of the ones in my grimoire. They bow slightly to Krampus before continuing down the hall.

“And some,” he continues, “become chroniclers of our world. Grimoire witches, like yourself, though none as powerful.”

My hand instinctively touches my book. “Is that why Victoria targeted me? Because of what I could become?”

“The Light Court has always feared the power of true stories.” His expression darkens. “They prefer their sanitized versions, where everything is black and white.”

Where Krampus is just a monster, and children need to be frightened into being good.The thought makes my blood boil.

I open my grimoire, watching as frost patterns form across the blank pages. “All those years, thinking I was just imaginative...”

“You were never alone.” His fingers brush mine, sending sparks of winter magic dancing between us. “You were always meant to find your way here.”

I close my grimoire, tracing the frost patterns with my finger. “I should probably start writing down everything I’ve learned.”

“Later.” Krampus’s hand settles on my lower back, guiding me toward the academy’s entrance. “First, I think we could both use something warm to drink.”

My stomach growls at the thought.When was the last time I actually ate?“The Frost & Flame? Hank’s been asking about you.”

The walk through Winterhaven feels different now. Every shop window, every passing face, holds new meaning.How many others are like me? Hidden in plain sight?

The cafe’s weathervane spins as we approach, though there’s no wind. The door stretches wider, accommodating Krampus’s height without him having to duck. I still can’t get over that.

“There’s my favorite author!” Hank’s booming voice fills the space. He’s already pouring something that steams and sparkles into two mugs. “Just finished brewing my special mulled wine.”

Special how?I eye the drink suspiciously as we settle into a cozy corner booth.

“It’s perfectly safe.” Krampus lifts his mug. “Unless you’re hiding something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hank sets down a plate of pastries between us. “Nothing dramatic—just helps people say what needs saying.” He winks at me. “Though some find it more revealing than others.”

I take a careful sip. Warmth floods through me, along with a sudden urge to giggle. “I used to draw little horns on all my book characters.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Even the sweet ones. Especially the sweet ones.”

Krampus chokes on his drink.

I narrow my eyes. “The cabin wasn’t actually available for rent, was it?”

“Magnus has very particular taste in tenants.”

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