Chapter 35
NEO
The trample of our boots on frosted gravel marks our arrival at the next house.
The night air is sharp, biting at exposed skin.
Nox has a cigarette tucked between his lips its ember glowing faintly in the dark.
Each drag lights his face in brief flashes, highlighting the annoyance still etched across his features.
His shoulders are tense, every step towards the house heavy with reluctance.
The cigarette still burning faintly on his lips, is a silent protest to being dragged into this.
Yet he doesn’t turn back. He carries the gifts, the weight of them more symbolic than physical, because he knows it matters to me.
That’s what softens the moment—the quiet truth that he’s here not for himself, but for me.
I shift closer; my breath lingers in the cold air as I lean in and press a gentle kiss against Nox’s cheek. The touch is soft but grounding, a quiet reassurance in the stillness of the night.
Nox’s expression softens, the edge of his usual irritation dulled by my presence. He slips his arms over my shoulders without a word, pulling me into the circle of his warmth, even if he’s as cold as night.
"You are so handsome," I tell him, my hand caressing his abdomen muscles, and he smiles at me, kissing my temple in response. Ice glances at us, unimpressed.
The next house looms before us, shutters drawn, the kind of silence that makes our footsteps sound louder than they should.
Nox exhales slowly, letting the smoke drift like a sigh of impatience, before flicking ash to the ground and shifting the weight of the gifts in his arms. The house is hushed; the only sound is the faint ticking of a clock somewhere deep inside.
Ice and Nox move like shadows, setting the gifts beneath the tree whose ornaments glimmer faintly in the dark.
The glow is warm, almost protective, but it feels fragile—like a candle about to be snuffed out.
We walk back outside, the door closing with a soft click.
The night is colder now, unnaturally still, as if the world itself is on pause.
Then comes a sound—low and metallic, like a chain dragged across ice.
Nox stops and steps in front of me, his cigarette hanging forgotten from his lip.
Something stirs in the blackness between the trees.
A shape too large, too twisted to be human.
Its horns are catching in the moonlight, jagged and cruel, his eyes glowing like embers in the dark.
The Krampus steps forward, its breath steaming in ragged bursts, its claws flexing as if eager to attack.
The air grows heavy, pressing down on us, the festive warmth of the house behind us seeming impossibly far away.
The creature’s growl rolls through the night, deep and guttural, rattling my bones.
I clutch Nox’s arm, my breath sharp with fear.
The elf steps forward, his shadow stretching long beneath the moonlight. Each step towards the towering Krampus is deliberate, as though he has shed all fear.
When he reaches the creature, he turns to face us, his chin upward, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the night.
"This is over," he declares, the words echoing in the silence. "I was meant to be the next Santa." His eyes burn with a strange conviction, with no trace of the playful mischief one might expect.
The elf’s words cut through the air like a blade. Nox’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrow as the ember of his fallen cigarette hisses out in the snow.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Nox’s voice is low and sharp, carrying the kind of fury that makes the night feel even colder. He steps forward, shoulders squared, every movement radiating defiance.
The elf sneers, his tone dripping with venom. "You were never meant for this. You’re a mistake. I wanted to be chosen; you were in the way."
Nox’s fists tighten, his knuckles whitening. "Chosen? You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind monsters. You want me dead? Then stop talking and try to kill me."
"Oh, I tried… but you are a tough cookie."
The Krampus growls, his chains rattling as if feeding on the hostility between them.
The elf’s smirk falters for a moment, but he stands his ground, eyes flashing with dangerous intent.
The air between them is electric, heavy with the promise of violence.
My hand hovers near Nox’s arm, torn between pulling him back and letting him unleash the storm that’s building inside him.
Instead of fear, a smile tugs at Nox’s lips. He slips a hand into his coat pocket and draws out the length of a chain, the metal links clinking in violence. He rolls the chain across his knuckles with calm precision, each loop tightening until his fist gleams with its cold steel.
"Nox, there are two of them…" I grab his arm ever tighter. My voice trembles, but I force it out, my eyes locked on the monstrous silhouette of the Krampus.
"One to bleed, one to break," he mutters, as if Ice is nothing more than a nuisance.
A storm rages around us, snow whipping through the air like shards of glass.
Nox stands at the center, his body carved sharp against the cold.
With a sudden motion, he snaps his wrist, and the long iron chain unfurls from his fist like an unleashed serpent.
The Krampus lunges first, claws outstretched, but Nox’s chain lashes across its chest, the impact ringing out like thunder.
Before the beast can recover, Nox spins, the links whistling through the air in a deadly arc.
The chain snaps forward with a hiss, cutting through the storm.
The iron links coil around the Krampus’s thick neck in an instant, tightening like a predator’s grip.
The beast staggers with its claws raking at the metal, but Nox only pulls harder, his grin widening as the links bite deep into fur and flesh.
It’s as if Nox has rehearsed this dance countless times before.
The other Krampus attack in the forest when Nox got hurt.
It was all Ice. Krampus, the ultimate enforcer, had been summoned to prove loyalty and spread horrors. He lured them in, using them for his dirty work—feared, cursed, and three times his size. These monsters were nothing more than the blade carving the elf’s path.
The beast’s roar breaks into a strangled rasp.
Snow swirls violently as the creature claws at the iron, desperate to tear free, but the more it struggles, the tighter the grip of the iron becomes.
Its breath comes in ragged bursts, steam clouding the frozen air.
The Krampus’s eyes burn with fury, yet its roar falters, reduced to guttural gasps.
The storm seems to echo its choking cries, a chorus of rage and desperation swallowed by the cold.
Nox pulls hard, dragging the Krampus to its knees, each tug cutting off another breath.
But Ice is already moving, sweeping in from the blizzard, frost trailing behind him. He's running away.