#colloboration

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It was cold.

It’s not as if she disliked the cold, it's just the cold that stood out the most. Maybe it’s because there’s a sudden warmth that overtook her. The laughter of a child, a hand holding her’s tight. The crunch of snow? It hasn’t snowed in ages. Yet, here it is - here she was, watching the tiny tracks leading away from them.

From them? Her gaze slides to the other set of fingers interlaced with hers. There’s the dull drone of a voice going on about something. She saw this child turn back to wave. He’s so happy because of her, and yet? She found herself suddenly envious. She remembered a time when that joy was familiar. When it belonged to everyone around her.

“....he’s getting bigger each year.” The voice sounded proud. The man next to her is just a fraction taller, by a mere few hairs. His side profile was ...captivating? He seemed to radiate energy, and she felt herself smiling like an idiot. Her focus shifts back to the child calling her name.

“Mama, mama! The snow is so fluffy.” She felt herself smile down at this little bundle of joy. He had the bluest eyes. Like the sky had been snatched and thrown into his face. He had the squishiest cheeks, tinted a light cherry by the cold, no doubt. His hair was ...silver? White? She turned to the man next to her and saw the same silvery strands atop his head.

The child runs off throwing snow in the air, it twinkles like a multitude of stars against the dark of night. “Niklaus, don’t get covered.”

Niklaus? She was interrupted as the man spun her around in his grasp. He’s so warm and close, and friendly. His lips brushed her forehead, and damnit it’s cold again -

His lips are moving, she couldn't stop staring at them. They’re plush, his skin is perfect - he’s practically glowing. It’s so cold? Why is it so cold?

“You’re shivering. I know what will warm you up.” Her eyes shifted from the point of his chin along the line of his jaw - and things are suddenly blurry. No, no. No. Don’t... She wanted to see it! This always happens, fuck. She could only make out his lips, and as soon as her gaze traveled any higher? She saw this blue? Gray? Slate? These eyes, these damned eyes that she just can’t forget.

Then it all goes away.

...and then she wakes up.

 ---------------

“She’s back?!” A jubilant voice echoed from down a long corridor.  “She’s back! She’s back!” The childlike voice echoes, causing a tired-looking man to remove his glasses. There was the sound of destruction as the elf scrambled into the workshop.

‘Saint Nicholas’ chuckled as Namjoon scrambled into his office with a delicate crystal. “Sh-She’s back! Nick, she’s back!”

Niklaus waved his hands, bade the elf to breathe first, and then explain. The elf took a shake breathy and placed a delicate crystal on the man’s desk.

“It’s been getting brighter and brighter. And just today? It...it’s glowing. She’s back, Nick. Maybe... maybe this time?” Namjoon was hopeful as Saint Nicholas held the icicle in his hand. The tears brimming in his eyes confirmed Namjoon’s suspicions.

“Mother.”  The brilliance swelling inside the shard shaped crystal seemed to dance at the word. “Where is she, Namjoon?” A pair of pale blue pinned the elf in place. The elf bit his lip as he toyed with his fingers.

“Nick, y-you know we can-” The older man cut him off.

“Where... is she, Namjoon?”

The elf sighed heavily as his fingers flexed against the air.  A beacon of light flared against a mystical map swirling around them. The elf pointed to the little village in the mountains. Niklaus pinched the flare of light, a motion that zoomed the map outward. Giving them a visual of the place and its people.

“Nick. D-do you think…?”

Namjoon stared as a woman exited a cabin. Sometimes, they somewhat looked like her - sometimes, some things reminded them of her. But this woman? She was a dead ringer. This woman was the spitting image of his mother, The Spirit of Winter.

Namjoon turned to Santa Claus as he dropped the jolly facade that the world knew him by. In actuality? He was a blend of his parents. Silvery hair gifted by both of them. Jimin’s sleek, almost androgynous features. He had his mother’s blue eyes that part of his look was real. The twinkle within them a gift that allowed him to do the impossible.

The two of them together were responsible for the spirit that came with the holiday known as Christmas. But, for the last few hundred years? That spirit has been missing from the world. The reason for the season had become lost in a wave of greed and indifference. It became materialistic, primal, and evil, with more care for closing the sale or getting the deal. Not to mention the ill care of the planet that slowly began to chip away at the population.

Over time, some people had simply forgotten about the holidays. Force to realize they didn’t have the things that made the holidays enjoyable? They let them fall to the wayside. The planet had suffered much at the hands of industrialization and unscrupulous consumption of resources. It was too late by the time the population shifted to change their ways. The planet was thrown into a flux that had all the minor deities scrambling to save what they could.

The weather deities suffered damage that caused an inability to control their powers. Slowly but surely, they began to fade. Absorbed back into the planet to try and offer some sort of balance. But it was the Spirit of Winter who suffered the most. The bitter cold that snapped in places where it didn’t belong. The longer durations began to cripple her as she fought against the impending change. She struggled to give humanity a fighting chance. She fought to minimize the damage to those ill-prepared for even the mildest of cold snaps. At first, she believed it to be the cause of her pregnancy, a rare thing to start, hormones went awry. But as other deities succumbed, or simply returned to the heart of Gaia, she realized it wasn’t so simple. Finally, she made a choice.

She wouldn’t sacrifice her child - so she stopped trying to prevent the inevitable. She protected the life inside of her, a hope that could restore something lost in humanity. She put her everything into making sure that the child was born.

It took two months for the disease wrought by the human race to run rampant. She had to watch on in horror as the world began to hurt and forget. No one remembered the olde ways, nobody carried the spirit of the holidays - let alone joy. Jimin had started to grow bitter as she suffered. But, against all the odds? Their child was born.

They named him Nicklaus.

She had held back the secret of her well-being from everyone. She just wanted to enjoy her fleeting moment of motherhood. They all gathered at what remained of The World Tree, and she knew then what it would take.

"You want to what?" Jimin hissed as she placed her hand on the withered bark.

"It's the only way, Jimin. For just a moment, if they could remember happiness. Don't you think we owe it to him to try?" Her hand balled into a fist, Jimin knew that look.

"You can't leave us!" He stepped forward, his eyes a dark gray from their natural silver shine. "You can’t leave him!" A hand-cut the air toward their son. But, the fear in his voice gave him away. "Y-you can't leave me." His hands cradled her face tilting it up, a gaze imploring him to reconsider.

"I'm so sorry..."

A broken sob left her as confusion furrowed his brow. "...It's already too late." Jimin shook his head, prepared to fight her, but he felt it. He realized it. He didn't know how he missed it? But, he had.

"You..."

Hurt. There was hurt in his voice as he released her face. She dropped the illusion of vitality to the soft collective gasps around them. "Why? Why would hide this?! Why would you lie?!"

She was emaciated, a sickly pallor to the usual vibrancy they were used to. Her eyes, hair were a dull and flat white. "I needed you both to have happy memories of me." Her smile was weak. "It's taken so much out of me to hide it. I just... I'm tired, my love." Tired and getting weaker by the moment. Jimin finally realized everything now.

And he hated humanity even more.

She was giving the last of her vitality to the World Tree. There was nothing he could do to stop her. Because she's making the sacrifice instead of being the sacrifice. Of course, it made sense. But it didn't mean he had to like it.

Her knees buckled as the air began to chill.

Even as a young child, Niklaus was attentive. And the image of his mother being absorbed into the World Tree? It had always stayed with him.

Because he always remembered the smile on her face before the bark closed over her body.

It was known as The Great Resurgence. For some reason that year, right before Christmas Eve - a wave of calm washes over the world. People remember a thick silence that seemed to make everyone stop and look toward the sky. The streak of colors spotted in areas as deep and rural, was the talk of nations. It was the first time snow has fallen in decades in some areas.

It was the greatest White Christmas.

And every year, as long as humanity maintained the feeling, they were gifted with the same emotion that fell from the sky. Snow sparkles like small diamonds seemed to bring out the best in everybody. They took that energy into the new year.

But, the saying goes - all good things come to an end.

And it did, years later, when a small war broke out. Fueled by greed, and with Jimin's bitterness at its peak, it caused that darkness to reappear.

And Jimin... intervened.

Nobody can remember the moment or the cause, just that two sides were devastated. And a charismatic individual appeared from the smoke to help the people mend their ways.

That charismatic individual then chose others, he trusted, to continue his work. Then he disappeared, spotted here and there over the years.

As one of the few remaining spirits left, Jimin didn't care about the rules. And as far as he was concerned? They didn't need the holidays. They didn't deserve them. So, he worked to bring order, structure, and cordiality.

The old ways were wholly forgotten by the time he was finished.

His bitterness ate him just a little less.

But then, he started to see her. It was never in the same place. It was never at the same time. He could feel her popping up in random forms throughout the years. He grew nervous that this was his punishment for not abiding by her final wish.

He was always drawn to her, no matter what form she took. She has been many things, an aging grandmother with twelve generations. A young girl, happy even though she had little, in a small country. A girl at the peak of her youth living her truth unabashedly and encouraging others to do the same.

And each time? Every time he was near? She dies. Naturally, horribly, on time and way too soon. He was there for them all. He could always swear she recognized him. It became too much for him. So he stopped looking. He stopped showing up.

But not Nicklaus - because he still had hope.

"Nick?” Namjoon watched the young man quietly. The shard of pulsating energy held almost too tight in his hand.

“This is it, Namjoon. This is our chance.” Nick handed the shard back to Namjoon. The elf nodded softly, turning on his heel to leave the room. “Namjoon....”

The elf turned around to see the dark blue eyes set in Niklaus’ face. It caused him to frown, he was like his father in some ways. “Don’t tell him.” Namjoon nodded and quickly departed the room. He clutched at his chest to quell the rapid beat of his heart. Because that dark rage that he had seen on Jimin’s face? Was equally mirrored in his son.

At least, he was thankful that Niklaus had never acted on it.

---------

“It’s a beautiful day, Agnes!” The old woman wrinkled her face as the young woman came twirling into her home. The curtains and windows were opened, a stream of sunlight exposed the layer of dust that had settled. The young woman spun from one side of the cabin to the others. Agnes couldn’t help but chuckle at her exuberance.

“Sona, come here, would you?” The young woman turned with a bright smile on her face. Agnes couldn’t help but let her own spread across her face. Sona, the nickname given to the strange girl who had appeared in their village long ago with no memory. They were a mismatch of nationalities existing in the mountains. Far from the damage caused by those who didn’t care for anything but themselves. They remembered how things used to be - and they still abided by those tenets even now.

Sona flopped down at Agnes’ feet, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “It’s almost time, Sona.”

The young woman nodded eagerly. “I know, Agnes! I’m so excited. Do you really think it will happen this year?” The old woman reached out to cup the girl's chin.

No one could explain Sona’s strange, yet alluring look. For starters? She had white hair, white as the first snow. Her eyes were a pale blue, that sometimes at the right angle, looked white. Concerned for her well-being, they took to dying her hair black. It was an arduous task that left her with stubborn streaks of white hair intermingled with the darker strands. It only made her blue eyes, paler. But, they merely claimed she had an exotic look.

It worked and allowed her to thrive and build a life. She took particular joy in hearing the stories about the celebrations long forgotten. A form of All Hallow’s still exists. Something akin to Thanksgiving still remained.

It was Christmas. The ever-elusive tale of Christmas and the joy it brought, was what was missing. It was almost illegal to speak of it in larger cities. There were rumors that smaller, more rural locations still carried out similar ceremonies.

But there was one thing that was missing - one thing that those secret communities felt was paramount to creating the spirit of Christmas.

Mistletoe.

The strange colorful berries that hung on doors, tangled in trees, and snuck overhead for centuries. The tradition was more than just a ‘kiss.’ It was a shared union, a promise to stay connected from that day forward.

The mistletoe forced that promise. Nobody ever realized that mistletoe was actually... a parasitic plant.

The tradition actually goes: Two people meet under the mistletoe. A kiss is granted. Each person takes a berry from the plant - and they eat it. This continues until the branch is bare. The spirit and joy of the season are now apart of you... to spread to others.

And like a strange disease, it did. People were happier, full of goodwill and joy. They all believed it the gathering of friends, family, and good times. It’s true - it was... but it was also the mistletoe.

For centuries, there was a search for the particular type of mistletoe that could restore the joy in the world. It hadn’t been found, because the Spirit of Christmas didn’t believe in it himself anymore. But, the world has changed, and so has its people. There was more consideration for life and how people played a role in it. Most gave up on materialistic things, reduced their media consumption, and got back outside. Moderation was now a way of life - and even without Christmas? People were fulfilled. That didn’t mean that they had forgotten completely.

As the world healed, it kept trying to find a way to instill something much needed back into humanity. So, mistletoe began to bloom. And she began to appear. With each attempt to bring her back? A bit of mistletoe blossomed - but it was either too weak [like a grandmother with twelve generations]? Or too young [a girl living life to the fullest] to do the job.

So the bloom would die - and simply keep reappearing.

All over the world, there would be signs of mistletoe trying to reappear in the world. But, Agnes and those around her had been tracking this growth. They always got a sample of the branch. Never the berries. The time between growths had been so long they didn’t think they’d get to see it. But recently? Now? They were sure they’d get it.

They were sure that the right branch would be found - and it would be in the mountains. Right above them.

Agnes looked at Sona, her fingers running through the strands of white fighting the coal-based color in her hair. “Oh, yes, my dear. I’m absolutely certain. You will find what you’re looking for.” Because Agnes had a feeling. Because Agnes had hope.

And because Agnes was running out of time.

--------

Jimin sat behind a desk in an opulent office. People moving around doing the mundane jobs that kept food on the table. It was more out of a need to do something with themselves. People had taken to growing their own food. Reducing their consumption and the strain on the environment. It was good to stay busy, especially in December. People had all but forgotten the thing that used to happen in December - and he preferred it that way.

“Sir.” The intercom buzzed, taking him out of the trance of signing papers.

“What is it?” An exasperated sigh as he resumed.

“Your son is here.” There was a quiver in the voice that suddenly softened at the mention of his son. Jimin dropped his pen on his desk. He looked at the calendar and sighed - it was like clockwork, every year. They would talk about hope, and his duty, and... her.

“Andrea.”

“Yes, Mr. Park?”

“Send everyone home for the day. Then tell my son to meet me upstairs.”

“Yes, Mr. Park.”

The intercom went dead. Jimin watched as everyone glanced at their monitors, confused. But, they rose to collect their belongings and shut down their stations. They all waved with small polite smiles to him as they departed. He continued to sign papers for another few minutes before grabbing his jacket, heading to the elevator nearby.

He swiped a keycard to the top floor where he lived. Jimin swept his hair away from his face as the door opened to the penthouse. The glass clinked as his son pour two fingers of whiskey for the both of them. The heat of the fireplace thicker than the tension between them. Jimin watched his son turn with a glass extended.

“Father.”

Jimin offered him the smallest of smiles. His heart broke, laying eyes upon this man that resembled her so much. He raised his glass, and they took a seat. “Niklaus, it’s good to see you.” They each took a chair, their legs similarly crossed over the knee. “So, here to - engage in the age-old conversation?” A brow lofted as Jimin smirked. Niklaus tilted his head as he watched his father.

“No, Father. I think this will be the last year for that.” Niklaus smiled as he downed his drink in one swallow. Jimin looked shocked, this had become as close to tradition as it could get between them. He smiled, proudly, with that admission.

“So, are you ready to come work with me then? Are you ready to stop this foolish chase now?” Jimin wanted to call them family. He wanted to have some kind of normalcy. He tried to put the past behind them and move on.

Niklaus chuckled softly, “No, Father. That’s not why this is the last year for that.” Jimin sighed as he slumped back into his chair. He finished the drink in a quiet swallow, the thud of the glass on the table was enough to fracture it.

Storm-gray eyes pinned Niklaus to his seat, and yet? He smiled. Jimin knew his anger was a thing of legend, and something not to toy with. “Nick. Give. It. Up.” He pushed to stand from his chair. “This is enough! I’m sick of this game of yours! This hope? It’s NOTHING. Let it GO. LET HER GO.”

Jimin combed his fingers through his hair haphazardly. Jimin paused as his son’s dark gaze leveled on him.

“You didn’t.” Those pale blue eyes were now dark as a raging sea, and it was something he was unaccustomed to seeing. He really is our son. Jimin swallowed thickly as Niklaus pushed to stand. “You didn’t give her up. You cannot fool me, Father.” The young man shoved his hands into his pockets as he approached his father.

“She’s back, Father. She’s back. It’s really her. I’ve confirmed it.” Usually, Nick would come in ranting and raving about these things. Jimin could easily dismiss him, quickly push it aside. He could easily say that Niklaus was mistaken. But there was something about the calm confidence he was displaying that unnerved him. Jimin licked his lips nervously while Niklaus stared, unflinching.

“Nick, you know, you say this every ye-” Niklaus put his hand up, interrupting him.

A shimmer of energy fizzled between them as Nick produced that icicle shaped shard, blazing with energy. The blue light shifted against their faces. The sensation of it caused Jimin to stumble back into his chair. Niklaus advanced on him, shoving the proof in front of him.

“This is no longer a joke, Father.” He could taste the cool air in the room. As if their energies called to each other, as it always had. The glass surfaces began to frost around them. Nick pulled up that map, the beacon flaring brighter than when he first saw it.

Just as Namjoon did those weeks ago? Nick pinched, zoomed, and let the village play to life in Jimin’s face. He registered the frown when Jimin saw the colorful decorations. He watched as he stared enraptured as the villagers laughed merrily. He watched his father swallow thickly at the red and green candles that cured in the windows.

The color drained from Jimin’s face when a lovely young woman twirled in the middle of a circle. Children singing a song, he didn’t know nor could he hear, their smiles so bright and cheerful. He moved closer as the woman twirled, her hair the color of storm clouds. Only because the black dye was fading, he could see the snow-white strands throughout.

When he saw her face? Her eyes? Niklaus was sure he could hear Jimin’s heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

“It’s not too late, Father. Remember your promise.”

Niklaus waved it all the way. The shard, the map, and the dancing doppelganger of his dead lover. Jimin sank to his knees with his eyes full of unshed tears.

Niklaus shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped around him. “Happy Holidays, Father.”

Jimin grabbed his chest, he didn’t hear the elevator door open. But for some reason? The ding of the elevator closing sounded louder than usual.

Like a bell tolling for something in the distance.

---------

The closer that time drew along? That dream kept getting stronger. She kept seeing things, faces, and places that weren’t familiar - but made her tear up at the thought. Sona laid in bed with her forearm across her face, the tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

Her heart was so heavy as the day of her hike drew near. She could never understand the pain that filled her. What was once a blossoming field of excitement, had suddenly turned bitter inside of her gut. She hid silent sobs behind her fingers.

She didn’t want to let the villagers down. These lovely people who shared their homes, their lives, and their ways with her. She wanted to give them something to hope for. Because she had no recollection of anything before coming here.

She owed it to them. Something inside of her said it was time to gather.

But the dreams that plagued her? The happiness that was lost to whomever she became at night? They made her fearful of the time to come.

She turned on her side, her shoulder shaking as she sobbed harder into her pillow.

Her tears falling like shimmering mercury onto her sheets.

-------

December 22nd 24XX

“Sona, are you ready to go?” Agnes coughed softly, packing a back with bread and dried fruit. The weather was so mild for this time of year, and it had been for too long. Sona came in wrapped in a scarf and thick cloak.

“I’m ready, Agnes!”

She grabbed the pack and let the elderly woman help her push it on to her shoulders. Sona turned around her cheeks, rosy with a faint blush. “This is it, Agnes. Are you really sure? Do you really think it’s there?” Agnes framed her face, with hands that have gotten colder by the day, and smiled.

“I’m sure it is, my dear. Remember what I told you. The World Tree is special; you will know it when you see it.” The elderly woman frowned softly. “There might also be something that might try and stop you. Something that may try to discourage you from going forward.” Agnes’ frown deepened. “No matter what, Sona.”

Sona patted Agnes’ cheek. “I made you this promise long ago when you told me the tales. I will not let you down.” She couldn’t afford to. They hugged each other tightly, and Sona inhaled deeply, turning on her heel to leave.

She stopped just shy of the threshold. “Have a Merry Christmas, Agnes.” The door was closed behind her with a gentle click. Agnes smiled, turning to settle in her big rocker chair. A blanket pulled over her legs, a fire crackled in the hearth.

She waved her fingers, magic shimmering in front of her. “You can’t stay away this time... Jimin.” The same mystical map loomed in front of her. “It is time to gather.”

The entity masquerading as ‘Agnes’ smiled, “That cheeky girl. Wishing me a Merry Christmas early. You haven’t changed, my girl. You have not changed.”

“And neither have you.” She smiled at the voice that answered in the darkness.

‘Agnes’ turned to the shadowy corner, spotting the twinkling eyes watching her. “Hello, Niklaus.” He stepped out a look bouncing between disbelief and relief.

“You’re….”

She placed a finger against her lips. A shake of her head as she bade him not to speak her actual name. He dropped to his knees in front of her as he sandwiched her hands between his. She smiled down at the silvery strands at his crown as the tears fell against her skin.

“I know my boy. It’s been a long time. It’s almost over - I promise.”

Niklaus hadn’t cried this hard since his mother died. But this confirms everything he had ever told his father over the years. It confirmed that his faith had not been misplaced, that everything will eventually be alright.

Niklaus sniffled as he composed himself, looking up in her eyes. “Does this mean…? I mean the others, they....” She shook her head again.

“Yes, Niklaus. Enough time has passed, and old wounds are healed.” She turned to look out the window to the trail that leads up to the mountains. “...all except one.”

Sona made good progress up the trail. Their area wasn’t known to be particularly fraught with danger - so she had no problem starting a fire to rest. She ate some of the bread and dried fruit, even though her stomach turned as she continued away from the village. It’s strange following the trail with no map. Agnes merely told her, she would know the way. So, she walked, never second-guessed her steps- and always followed her first mind. She kept out of areas too dark, or that gave off a bad vibe. The path remained visible, accessible, but long. It was strange, the farther she got up the mountain, the clearer the sky became. Stars, constellations, and even the moon seemed brighter.

She couldn’t help but smile- it seemed as if the sky was putting on a show just for her.

Wrapped in that thick cloak, warm and safe with the idea that nature was showing off for her. The wind settled, the trees barely shivered, and the moon seemed to dim. Little did she know how right she was.

Even the pair of dark gray eyes that watched her from the shadows realized the world stilled for her - and her alone.

-------

Impossible.

It can’t be.

“Can it?” Jimin’s voice was soft as he stared at her. He replenished the wood in her fire so the cool wouldn’t disturb her slumber. He crouched down, fingers aching to touch as they ghosted over her hair. He couldn’t focus, let alone sleep since Niklaus had visited him. The signs were too bright, like neon lights in the dark.

He had been too focused on his own misery, wallowing in his bitterness that he - again - failed to realize what was happening around him. The world had healed. So much that he noticed the energy of many that had faded before.

Far from their former glory, they existed and grew stronger with humanity’s change of pace. The very switch in their mindset made it comfortable to exist.

It wasn’t until the Seasons had visited him, like a Christmas carol parody. Each making their presence known mere days before. Showing up like ghosts from the past to remind him that he had broken his promise. That he had failed in his duty, and yet, he would still be rewarded.

But only if he forgave himself- and the world for its folly. Because it’s what she would have done. The fact they appeared before him, unfortunately, proved Niklaus’ assumption that this year, something was different.

So Jimin made his way to this mountain village, blending in with a well-placed illusion. There was something strange, enchanting about this particular village and he couldn’t place what it was. But, he stayed among them, watching them live. It had been so long since he’d done that. Just observe the world as it went on its way. There was such joy and gratitude in this place. They were happy with their simple lives, and it gave him hope.

And that scared him.

Almost as much as it did when he actually ran into her, Sona is what they called her. He smirked when she introduced herself because it was an Irish word for Happy. “That’s an odd name.” She tilted her head towards him.

“And what’s your name?”

He hesitated, a fraction, “Jimin.”

She chuckled.

“That’s an odd name.” He blinked at her as she tossed his assessment back at him. “I guess we’re just two odd named individuals, yeah?” She stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet another odd individual.” He couldn’t resist taking her hand, lifting it to his lips.

“The pleasure is mine.” Just ghosting over the bumps of her knuckle. Her lips quivered on a soft inhalation of air. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip as their eyes met. “So, Sona. What’s there to do around here?”

“Well, Jimin," She cleared her throat as if it would remove the red tinging her cheeks. "We’re getting ready for an extraordinary occasion.” There was a grin that could have split her face in two. “It’s very secret, only celebrated here. It’s been a long time since it’s been done, though. So, you’ll have to excuse all the…” A hand waved to the candles and such. “...that. I promise it makes sense. But....”

She turned to the odd fellow with hair that seemed the color of storm clouds. Or was it just the afternoon light?

“I can show you our handicraft shops. If you’d like?” His heart skipped a beat as she looked at him from under her lashes.

“I... would, actually. I’d like that a lot.” He offered his elbow, which she grasped gently. They somehow wound up spending hours together. Walking, talking, and laughing. He couldn’t remember the last time when…

“What is it?” She asked curiously.

“What’s what?” He sipped a concoction of black tea, yak butter, and honey. It was something similar to what they consumed in the Tibetan mountains. It was a thick, fatty, and slightly musky drink. But, it kept the people warm, cozy, and strong. It could have used a bit of brandy- maybe he’d suggest that later.

“You were smiling, and rather fondly, I might add.” She sipped her own drink.

“Ah, you... remind me of someone I knew once.” Her eyes darted to her cup.

“I’m sorry?” A quiet apology as she finished.

“Don’t be. I...” He sighed, setting his cup down. “... I needed to be reminded. It’s been a long time since I had a good time like this.”

Sona brightened but managed to keep her head down. “I’m glad I could help.” He seemed so familiar- it was so strange. It was his voice. She swore she’s heard it before?

“Well, I should be going.” Jimin finished his tea, standing abruptly. She followed, nearly knocking over her chair.

“Th-There’s an inn. It’s small, but it should have a bed. The... trek down is so long.” She fiddled with her fingers while he thought it over.

“Alright. I think I would like more of this before I go anyway. Will you take me there?” They smiled at each other, finally. She nodded enthusiastically, practically dragging him across the village.

And now here he is, three days later- watching her sleep under the stars. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he moved away from her. Afraid to let his emotions get the best of him. Fearful that he was going to watch her die too- like all the previous incarnations before her. He ran into the dark of the forest, hard, as branches cut his skin and clothing.

He reached a clearing stumbling to his knees, unable to stop the tears from falling. Gulping for air as the warmth of recognition settled over him. As hope-filled him to the brim and made him sick. As he finally opened himself up to the world, he had shunned.

He felt... everything.

And regretted just as much.

-------

December 23rd 24XX

The air was so much thinner this high up. She took sips of that fortified tea to fight off anything that could think to make her sick. It also helped her breath, as if increasing her lung capacity. The world was too quiet up here. There was nothing to echo or feel.

She had reached the part of the world where no wind could blow.

“I’m close, Agnes.”

Her footsteps echoed in her ears as if she walked on a shiny floor. As if someone were approaching her from a great distance. Everything was so loud. Even the disturbance of her breathing was too loud. Was this it? Was this the distraction, the fear-inducing element that would try to deter her?

Because it was starting to work. The quieter she attempted to be, the louder everything got. She placed her hands over her ears to try and drown it out, but it seemed to happen right inside of her mind. Her breathing increased as her heart rate pattered upward. The tears sparkled in her eyes as she bore the pain.

It was as if the world was testing her mettle. Her head hurt, her legs ached - and she ignored it all. Following the feeling in her soul that urged her forward. Jimin watched from the sidelines, feeling the vibrations of her discomfort. He wanted to tell her to turn back. He wanted to ask her to abandon this foolish journey, go back to her village, and grow old with this spirit. But he couldn’t interfere. And a sick part of him wanted her to finish so she could be proven wrong.

So he could be right. So he could throw this back in Niklaus’ face.

So he wouldn’t have to bear the weight of belief and hope. Jimin knew where she was going. This was a path that he had walked many times. And the only thing he could do? Let his feet shuffle the trail, leaving an indentation in the ground as if he was being dragged to a demon of his past.

The sky opened up to a beautiful celestial play of shooting stars and constellations. The moon seemed to dance in the air above her. It had reached the highest point in the sky. She looked down the path down at the world below. Everything was so small, so precious. There was a tree, thick and lush, just feet away from her.

“The World Tree.” Her voice whisper-quiet echoed around her.

But, Agnes said the tree was sick? This tree wasn’t ill! It was full and well cared for. Could Agnes have been wrong? She moved toward the tree; her fingers outstretched as they settled on the cool bark. Energy, calm, and familiar pulsed under her fingers. She leaned forward and placed her face against the rough surface.

And for a second, just a moment she thought she heard…

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

“Is that a….”

“Heartbeat?” Jimin answered before she could even ask the question. She whirled around, placing her back against the tree. Her eyes were wide.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” Her brow furrowed. “How did you get here?”

He placed his hands behind his back as he paced in front of her. “I’ve been here before. This is a place near and dear to my heart. Question is, Sona, why… ” He approached with a tilt of his head. Taking liberty to catch a strand of hair between his fingers. “...are you here?”

She swallowed thickly as she moistened her lips. “I... I have to be here. For Agnes, for everyone. I have to find something.” She closed her eyes, fingers digging into the tree-bark, as if for strength.

“Go home, Sona. Live a full life. Grow old. Let these legends stay legends.” He leaned in, letting his voice whisper against her cheek. “You can’t imagine the pain in this place.” Her nostrils flared as she tilted her head upward.

“Don’t let it sway you, Sona,” Agnes’ voice echoed in her mind. A fierce determination swelled as she opened her eyes. Jimin smirked as she kept her gaze upward.

“It’s ok. You can give up, Sona.” It made him sick to do this, but he had lived in that pit too long. He couldn’t take the vibrant color she restored to his world.

She tilted her head curiously, still tilted upward as he spoke. A sound, like a groan, echoed around them. Jimin tilted his head as she reached her hand upward.

A shiver ran the length of his body as an icy breeze slithered across his neck.

“Do you know the traditions, Jimin?” Her voice was far away. “The old way of things?”

His brow furrowed as he looked upward, his eyes large as saucers. Right above their heads, as if offered into her hand, a branch studded with fat, triangular leaves, the scent unmistakeable. A tart, evergreen essence that accompanied a cluster of snow-white berries.

Her fingers wrapped around that branch as it hung over their heads. He hadn’t realized that tears had been falling down his face. He barely noticed the drop in temperature, but he saw the swell of magic surrounding them.

There was a soft sob that left him as those berries seemed to shimmer above them. He noticed Sona pluck one of those berries and place it in her mouth.

“No! You mus-” He reached out a hand to stop her. It was too late as she shifted to avoid his grab to her shoulder.  

He couldn’t avoid her as she advanced on him, her fingers clutched into the front of his shirt.

And he certainly couldn’t avoid that kiss.

Her tongue slid against the seal of his lips, a sweetness too heavy to consume on her own, was passed between them, her tongue coated in flavors that the world had forgotten about. Tart cranberries, smoked meats, yeasty bread, the scent of things baking. All accumulated in their mouths and filled their nostrils.

Jimin’s hands had hovered above her waist. Finally, they grabbed her. Greedy for her presence, one hand rose to the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. The soft moan as she melted into him, nearly ended his existence.

It was all coming back to her now.

Now, she remembered.

The World Tree saved her, entombed her while it healed. And she recovered with it. Her admirable sacrificed was rewarded with a second chance. So when the Tree could spare her no more energy? It released her with no memory, and she walked down the path. She stumbled into the village, and there she stayed. Growing stronger as the World Tree did.

And now?

Her hand reached skyward as Jimin placed kisses along her face and jaw. His lips sealed to the tender skin just behind her ear.

She breathed life into his soul as she sighed. She spoke his name like a promise, like a gentle caress.

The Spirit of Christmas burned hotter than the sun for the first time in centuries. He stared upward as a smile curved her lips. The temperature dropped as she exhaled softly. A smile spreading across her face as she stared at the sky.

“Look, it’s snowing.”

Her hand reached up for the flakes falling soft and thick around them. “Isn’t it beautiful?” The Spirit of Winter smiled as the mistletoe began to bloom once more.

“Yes, love.” Jimin tilted his head skyward as the flakes landed on his nose. “Yes, it is.”

“Merry Christmas, Jimin.”

December 24th 24XX

Niklaus couldn’t contain himself as people ran outside to marvel in the snowflakes falling from the sky. It had been too long since he had laughed so heartily. Legend has it, that his ‘Oh, oh, oh’ of surprise, actually gave birth to the ‘Ho, Ho, Ho’ that he’s so well known for.

But that’s a story for another time.

For today was about the Spirit of Christmas being reunited with the Spirit of Winter.

And their child who had indeed kept alive something missing in Humanity.

Hope.

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