28. Clara
Chapter twenty-eight
Clara
I need to get this right. My fingers hover over the blank page, ink already staining my fingertips from my mother’s antique fountain pen. The familiar weight grounds me as I begin to write.
Once upon a time, there lived a girl who thought she knew everything about Christmas magic...
The words flow differently now. Instead of forcing saccharine sweetness onto the page, I let the shadows dance with the light. My pen moves with newfound purpose, weaving a tale of a young witch who discovers that true holiday magic exists in the balance between darkness and joy.
The ink changes color as I write, shifting from midnight black to silver, then back again. Magic tingles through my fingers, but it’s different from before—whole, complete, honest.
The darkness wasn’t evil, just as the light wasn’t purely good. They needed each other, like winter needs summer, like night needs day...
I pause, watching the words sink into the page. They feel right in a way my previous stories never did. No more suppressing half of nature’s truth. No more denying the beauty in shadow.
A warm hand settles on my shoulder. I glance up to find Krampus watching my words with gleaming eyes.
“You’re weaving protection spells into a children’s story.” Pride rumbles in his voice.
“Is that what I’m doing?” The realization makes me smile. “I suppose I am.”
The words continue to flow as naturally as breathing. My pen dances across the page, creating two distinct manuscripts side by side. On my left, a children’s story about a young witch discovering her first spark of magic takes shape. The illustrations seem to draw themselves—simple yet enchanting drawings of protection symbols disguised as snowflakes and stars.
Mother would be proud. She always said stories had power beyond just entertainment.
On my right, my latest holiday romance novel evolves into something deeper. Gone are the cookie-cutter plots and one- dimensional characters. Instead, I weave a tale of a mortal woman who discovers the ancient magic running through her veins during the darkest night of winter. Her journey mirrors my own, though the readers won’t know that part.
Krampus leans closer, his warmth seeping into my shoulder as he reads. “Your magic grows stronger by the day, little mate.”
“These feel more real.” I tap my pen against the children’s story. “Teaching them about their gifts through stories. It’s what they need. What I needed.” I gesture to my romance novel. “And this one... it’s not just about finding love anymore. It’s about finding balance.”
The shadows in the room dance as he chuckles, and I watch them with newfound appreciation. They’re not threatening anymore. They’re just another part of the whole, like the light streaming through my window or the snow falling outside.
“Children around the world will benefit from your wisdom and protection.” His fingers trace one of the protection runes I’ve drawn. “And your adult readers might find more truth in your fiction than they expect.”
The town square bustles with activity as we step outside. Children dart between market stalls, their laughter carrying on the crisp winter air. My heart swells seeing them free to be themselves, not hiding their magic.
Mrs. Redmond waves from her position near the newly restored fountain. Above us, magic shimmers—ribbons of shadow and light twining together with leaves to form an arch of mistletoe.
Krampus pulls me close, his massive form gentle despite his fearsome appearance. “Your magic calls to mine, little mate.”
“As yours calls to mine.” The words come naturally now, an ancient truth I’ve always known.
Our combined power surges as our lips meet. Shadow and light dance around us, making the mistletoe above pulse with golden light. The children gasp in delight, and I hear several of the townspeople clapping.
I don’t pull away or try to hide. This is who we are—creatures of balance, keepers of ancient magic. My fingers trace the runes now permanently etched on his chest. It pulses with warmth, a reminder of our eternal bond.
Breaking the kiss, I rest my forehead against his chest. “I think I finally understand what my mother meant about true holiday magic.”