“Landon, can you hear me?” I asked.
Still no response. Time sped by, and I dozed off. A knock on the door woke me up. I looked at Landon, but he seemed the same.
“Come in,” I said in a gravelly voice.
Eirik entered, his face troubled. He glanced at Landon, then to me. “Is he…”
“Still the same. What is it?”
“A blizzard blew through the town.”
I frowned. Impossible. Unless…
“The tree?”
“Drying up. No one wants to come out of their homes. Everyone’s scared.”
I took up Landon’s hand, kissed the back of it, then placed it on the bed. “I’ll see what’s happening. Stay with him. I don’t want him to be alone if he wakes up.”
I took the sleigh and raced against the biting wind toward the town square where the ancient tree stood. As the sleigh cut through the icy air, the severity of the situation below unfolded before me. The blizzard had spared nothing in its path—houses were buried under mounds of snow, and the once lively streets of Twinkle Glen were deserted, an eerie silence hanging over them. The storm had indeed been brutal, and the dimming of the tree seemed to have taken away not just the light but also the spirit of the town.
The Eternal Tree stood in the center of the square, its usual vibrant glow reduced to a mere flicker, the branches drooping in despair, a stark reminder of the grim reality we were facing. A knot of fear tightened in my chest as I landed the sleigh.
I stepped out, my boots sinking into the thick snow. A cold gust of wind whipped at my face, but I ignored it, my mind preoccupied with the crisis at hand. As I approached the tree, my heart sank further with each step. Its once lustrous needles werenow brittle and gray, a stark contrast to the healthy green it used to boast.
I couldn’t let this be the end of Twinkle Glen, the place I’d called home for centuries. I couldn’t let it be the end of us.
Turning away from the tree, I trudged to the nearest house, and knocked firmly on the door. A frightened face peeked out, but relief flooded their features when they recognized me.
“Santa,” they whispered.
I offered a grim nod. “Gather everyone you can. We’re opening the great hall. It will be a shelter for anyone who has lost their home or needs warmth. There will be food for all.”
Word spread quickly, as it always did in small communities. Elves and the few humans who lived among us made their way through the snow, some helping others who were less able to navigate the thick drifts. Together, we worked to clear a path to the great hall, the large, sturdy building that had stood at the heart of Twinkle Glen for as long as anyone could remember.
Once inside, the elves stoked the fires, their glow offering a beacon of hope in the storm. Blankets were distributed, and the kitchen was set into motion. Soon, the scent of baking bread and brewing tea filled the air.
I moved among the people, offering words of comfort and reassurance, though I felt none of it within me. My mind was with Landon, lying unconscious in my bed, and with the tree, the soul of our town, dying outside.
As the last of the residents settled in, I stepped back outside, where the storm was now reduced to a gentle flurry. I looked up at the sky, but the stars were obscured by lingering clouds. I prayed, a plea for guidance, for a solution, for anything that could save us from the darkness that threatened to engulf us all.
With my heart heavy, I directed the reindeer over the ground, choosing to return to the workshop via the snow-covered paths instead of through the air. The rhythmic clop of their hooves andthe hiss of the sleigh cutting through the fresh snow offered no comfort, only a dull backdrop to my racing thoughts.
As we rounded a bend, a figure appeared on the path, a dark silhouette against the white landscape. I brought the reindeer to a halt, their breaths white puffs as they snorted uneasily. The figure stepped forward, and even in the dim light, I recognized the imposing presence of Frostheart. My hand instinctively went to the large candy cane at the side of the sleigh. It looked like an oversized replica of the small candy canes people hang in their Christmas trees, but in my hand, it was easily transformed into a sword.
Frostheart raised a hand. “I’m not here to fight,” he said, his voice as cold and emotionless as ever.
I eyed him warily, every instinct screaming caution. “Then what do you want?”
“How is your human?” Frostheart asked, almost casual if not for the undercurrent of something darker.
Anger flared within me, white-hot and fierce. It was him. It had to be. He was the reason for Landon’s condition. I leaped from the sleigh, the snow crunching under my boots as I closed the distance between us and grabbed him by the collar. “What did you do to him?” I demanded, barely containing my rage. When he didn’t put up a fight, I knew he had the upper hand.
Frostheart looked down at my hands, then back up at me, unfazed. “Nothing too terrible. Just a little ice to the heart. But you can save him, Santa. All he needs to do is touch the tree. Take the tree’s warmth into him.”
I tightened my grip on his collar. “That’s impossible. If he touches the tree, it will die.”
Frostheart’s cruel smile widened. “Sounds like you have a tough decision to make. What do you care about more, Santa? The boy or the tree?”