Chapter 27 Memory Globe
Memory Globe
Ifelt the exact moment we passed through the veil. Not a dramatic rip in the universe like I’d expected, but a gentle ripple, like passing through a silk curtain charged with static electricity. A soft hum vibrated in my chest, and then we were through.
The North Pole unfurled beneath us like a living Christmas card.
I clung to the saddle horn on Cole’s back as I stared down in awe.
Festive buildings clustered together in a picturesque village, each one dusted with perfect snow that glistened under the lantern light.
Cobblestone streets wound between them in graceful curves, with not a single imperfection in their paths.
And rising at the center stood a castle, but not of the Disney variety.
It was an elegant structure of crystal and stone that caught the light of the veil and refracted it in prismatic bursts.
Home.
Cole banked left, veering away from it. I frowned as the entire herd followed, flying toward a separate cluster of buildings on the outskirts.
“Um, where are we going?” I shouted over to Rudy, who had been stuck in his head since we’d left. “The castle’s that way.”
Rudy pointed in the direction we were headed, and Cole continued his descent. There was an open field beside a sprawling stable complex. The structure was beautiful, with a series of interconnected domed buildings that had light spilling from windows and doorways.
We landed, and Cole lowered his body, allowing me to slide off before stepping away. I watched in fascination as he transformed, the shift from reindeer to man still bewildering even after seeing it multiple times.
“Why aren’t we landing at the castle?” I gestured toward the distant building, its turrets gleaming.
“Flight restrictions. Only Santa’s sleigh team can land in the central courtyard.” Rudy’s hand found the small of my back. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t feel like destroying anything, so that’s a plus.” I adjusted the straps on the backpack I’d insisted on carrying myself. It had the blanket from Barbara and the ornament tucked safely inside. Plus, a few cookies.
Okay, a lot of cookies.
Kip pulled open one of the large doors. “Are you coming? The stables are heated, and I’m freezing my balls off out here.”
“Such a delicate flower.” Dane smirked, already moving toward the door.
I lingered, taking it all in. The air here felt different, and it tingled against my skin. The veil and Northern Lights danced together so seamlessly I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. It was as if they were welcoming me home.
Was this truly where I belonged? This place I couldn’t even really remember?
Cole stepped closer, his tall frame blocking the wind that had picked up around us. His eyes, usually so guarded, softened as he studied my face. “Overwhelming?”
The wind abruptly stopped, and I nodded, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. “I thought I’d feel... I don’t know, something more definitive when we arrived. Like a burst of recognition or my memories flooding back.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” Blitz took my hand and tugged me forward. “Getting overwhelmed isn’t good for you or your magic.”
I shivered as we entered the stables, the sudden heat making my frozen cheeks tingle. The space inside was far more elaborate than I’d expected, with polished wooden beams arched overhead, stalls lined with plush bedding, and what appeared to be heated water troughs running along one wall.
“Why do you need stables if everyone shifts?” I looked around, confused at seeing reindeer in the stalls.
Don reached over a door and rubbed a reindeer between the eyes. “Most reindeer aren’t shifters. These are regular reindeer; like workhorses for the North Pole.”
“Regular reindeer.” I blinked, taking in this information. “So there are normal animals coexisting with magical shapeshifting ones, and everyone’s cool with that?”
“People ride them instead of horses here.” Pierce grabbed a handful of feed and threw it into a stall. “The climate’s better suited for reindeer than horses.”
Dash wandered over, sighing longingly as he watched a reindeer getting some kind of hoof treatment in a corner stall. “Sometimes shifters like to spend more time in reindeer form too. I come here for spa treatments sometimes.”
I stopped walking to stare at him. “Reindeer... spa treatments?”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” Kip’s smile was wicked. “I wish they did antler rubs on shifters, but that was outlawed years ago.”
My magic stirred inside of me at the thought of someone putting their hands on any of their antlers, and I crossed my arms. “Good, because the only person who will be rubbing those is me.”
A few groans came from the men, and a few of the reindeer in the stalls made grunting noises. With a quick glance, I could instantly tell they were shifters. Their eyes held too much intelligence, a depth no normal animal should carry.
Vix moved to stand beside me, throwing a heavy arm over my shoulders and pulling me against his side. “Kip is just pushing your buttons. Most of us just get hoof treatments. It makes them all shiny and smooth, and if I’m feeling a little wild, I’ll get them painted.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re telling me you come to the reindeer spa to get... pedicures?”
“Hooficures.” Vix was being completely serious. “The hot mud pack for the shoulders is also incredible. Really helps with the post-flight tension.”
I burst out laughing. The North Pole had reindeer spas. Of course it did. What other ridiculous things was I about to discover?
A woman with golden-colored hair looked up from where she was polishing tack, her eyes widening as they landed on me.
“By the bells,” she whispered, dropping her cloth. “It’s—”
“Just passing through, Marigold.” Dane stepped forward. “We’re headed for the castle.”
She blinked rapidly, her gaze darting between each member of the herd before settling back on me. “Of course. I’ll continue with the... yes.”
I inched closer to Don. “Is everyone going to react like that?”
Don’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, a reassuring weight. “Not everyone. Just anyone who remembers you.”
“Fantastic,” I muttered. “No pressure.”
After a brief discussion about the best route to take to minimize people seeing me, we exited through the back of the stables and began making our way toward the castle.
The men naturally fell into formation around me, with Rudy and Pierce in front, Don and Kip on my left, Cole and Blitz on my right, and Dane, Dash, and Vix bringing up the rear.
“Is this really necessary?” I glanced around at my wall of muscle and testosterone. “I feel like I’m in the witness protection program.”
Kip leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Think of it as a royal procession. We’re your honor guard.”
“Oh, well, that’s much less conspicuous.”
As we wound through the streets of the village, people stopped to stare. They didn’t point openly or rush over, but I felt their gazes following us like physical touches against my skin.
A child tugged at her mother’s sleeve, pointing at our group before being gently shushed. Vendors paused mid-transaction, their hands hovering in the air. Even the carolers on a nearby corner faltered in their melody before quickly recovering.
“They all know who I am,” I whispered to no one in particular.
We rounded a corner, and the castle came into view. Now that we were on the ground, it wasn’t as large as it had appeared from the air. Large doors carved from pale wood stood at the top of a wide set of stairs.
“That’s it?” I gestured to the unprotected entrance. “No guards? No magical security? Anyone could walk in!”
Vix snorted. “Who exactly would storm Santa’s castle?”
“I don’t know. Disgruntled elves? Angry children who got coal? Rival holiday mascots?”
“Rival holiday mascots,” Dash repeated, laughter in his voice. “Like the Easter Bunny staging a coup?”
“It could happen.” I mumbled, feeling ridiculous but oddly disappointed. Part of me had expected more ceremony for my grand return. Perhaps guards trying to arrest me with their spears and then my dad coming to my rescue with an exuberant “ho, ho, ho.”
The absurdity of my imagination made me smile through my nerves.
Rudy pushed open one of the massive doors, and we stepped into the foyer.
My breath caught in my throat.
The entrance hall was a cathedral of light and winter beauty.
The floor beneath our feet was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the soft glow from crystal chandeliers that hung like cascading icicles from a vaulted ceiling.
Staircases of gleaming white marble curved up on either side, their banisters wrapped in evergreen garlands interwoven with silver ribbons and tiny bells that chimed softly in the still air.
But it was the central feature that made my heart stutter in my chest. There was a massive snow globe, easily seven feet in diameter, suspended in midair with no visible means of support.
Inside, the scenes shifted and changed: children opening presents, families gathered around tables, snow falling.
Each image projected outward in a shimmering light that danced across the walls.
“It’s the Memory Globe.” Kip took my hand. “It shows Christmas memories from around the world.”
A memory pushed to the forefront of my mind. It wasn’t jolting like all the memories before and didn’t pull me away from the current moment. “I used to bring a beanbag down and sit and stare at this for hours.”
I was so transfixed by the globe that I didn’t immediately notice the figure descending one of the staircases. It wasn’t until Rudy put his hand on my shoulder that I saw the movement.
And then, I couldn’t breathe.
A woman glided down the steps with effortless grace, her crimson velvet cloak trailing behind her. Her silver hair, identical to what now grew on my head, was elegantly styled away from her face, revealing high cheekbones and the points of her ears.
My mother.