Lucien had expected Christmas Eve to feel louder. Busier. Brighter.
Instead, the North Pole village pulsed with a calm anticipation, like the hush before a great performance. Lanterns lined the paths, glowing softly in the eternal twilight, their light mirrored by icicles that sparkled like chandeliers. The air carried the crisp scent of pine and something sweet—gingerbread maybe, though Lucien couldn't tell if it came from a cottage kitchen or simply hung in the very air of this place.
Yet despite the cheer surrounding him, his mind lingered on yesterday's fears. His family's faces were smudged memories, like ink blurred by water. And no amount of cheer could quite erase the unease gnawing in his chest.
Holly must have noticed. She nudged his elbow as they walked side by side down the frosted lane.
"You look like you're headed to your own funeral," she said dryly. "Not Christmas Eve."
Lucien attempted a laugh, but it came out hollow. "Guess I'm just not used to… all this." He waved vaguely at the glowing lanterns and laughing elves bustling past.
"You'll get used to it," Holly said. Then, softening, "Come on. You need a distraction. Something better than sitting around the cottage and brooding."
"And what do you suggest?"
A faint, mischievous smile tugged her lips. "The reindeer shed."
Lucien blinked. "Wait—the actual reindeer? The flying ones?"
"Well, not yet flying. These are the young ones, still learning to wobble around without tripping over their own antlers. But yes, the reindeer." Holly's eyes glimmered with amusement. "Want to meet them?"
Lucien felt his heart lift, his earlier gloom cracking just a little. "Absolutely."
---
The shed sat on the outskirts of the village, tucked against the snowy woods. It was less of a shed and more of a sprawling stable, its roof dusted with snow, wreaths of holly hanging from the beams. The scent of hay and fresh pine greeted them as Holly pushed the door open with a creak.
Inside, the air was warmer, lit by lanterns hanging low from the rafters. Rows of stalls stretched along the walls, each one holding a reindeer calf no taller than Lucien's chest. Their fur gleamed in shades of chestnut and snowy white, antlers small but promising, eyes wide and curious.
Lucien stopped in awe. "They're… beautiful."
One calf stuck its nose through the stall and sniffed him eagerly. Another gave a comical sneeze, shaking bits of hay everywhere.
Holly grinned, rolling up her sleeves. "Don't just stand there. Grab some hay. They eat like bottomless pits."
Lucien followed her to a corner where bundles of hay were stacked. He clumsily scooped up an armful, bits of straw sticking to his hair. Holly, of course, carried hers with practiced ease.
When they began tossing hay into the troughs, chaos erupted. The reindeer pushed and nuzzled and snorted, eager for food. One calf tried to climb halfway out of its stall in excitement, nearly knocking Lucien over.
"Whoa! Easy there!" he yelped, stumbling back as the calf's wet nose smeared against his cheek. Holly burst out laughing, nearly dropping her hay.
"They like you," she teased.
"They're trying to eat me!" Lucien protested, brushing off straw from his shirt. But even he couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face.
They worked together, feeding each reindeer, though "work" quickly devolved into play. One calf tugged on the hem of Lucien's tunic until he had to wrestle it back, both of them rolling in hay. Holly snorted at the sight. Another calf sneezed directly into Holly's hair, leaving bits of straw sticking up like a crown. Lucien laughed so hard his stomach hurt.
"You look majestic," he wheezed.
Holly gave him a flat look but couldn't hold back a reluctant grin. "Say another word and I'll dump this bucket of water on your head."
They collapsed into laughter again, sitting on the hay-strewn floor as the reindeer munched happily around them. For a while, the heaviness in Lucien's chest lifted completely.
---
Then, something strange happened.
As Lucien leaned back against a post, catching his breath, he noticed a faint shimmer in the corner of his vision. Tiny motes of light, no larger than fireflies, swirled through the air. At first, he thought it was dust catching the lantern glow—but the motes moved with purpose, drifting around the calves, circling their antlers, then spiraling toward him.
Lucien sat up straighter. "Holly… do you see that?"
She followed his gaze—and her expression softened. "Ah. So they've shown themselves."
The motes gathered, whirling lazily around Lucien's head and shoulders. They glowed faintly golden, pulsing like tiny heartbeats. The reindeer calves lifted their heads, eyes shining as the lights brushed against their fur.
"What… are they?" Lucien asked, breathless.
"Fairies," Holly said simply.
Lucien blinked. "Fairies? Like wings and glitter?"
Holly chuckled. "Not exactly. What you're seeing are fragments—their outer light. They only reveal their true forms to Santa… and to those they're bound to."
Lucien's brow furrowed as a light drifted down to rest on his palm. It felt warm, like a sunbeam on winter skin. "Bound to?"
"They're Santa's helpers, in their own way. They weave his magic into the world, into the creatures he blesses. See the reindeer?" She gestured to the calves, who now pranced lightly, energized by the lights dancing along their backs. "This is why they can fly when they're grown. The fairies enrich them, tie their spirits to the skies."
Lucien's breath caught as a light spiraled up and nestled briefly against his chest, right where his heartbeat thudded. The warmth spread through him, soothing yet electrifying, like music vibrating inside his bones.
"And why are they circling me?" he whispered.
Holly tilted her head, watching carefully. "Maybe they're curious. Or maybe… they've decided you're worth their notice."
Lucien stared, unsure whether to feel honored or afraid. The lights spun faster now, like a playful storm. One brushed against his cheek, leaving a trail of tingling warmth.
For a moment, he felt something—like a whisper just beyond hearing, a memory scratching at the back of his mind. A woman's laughter? A voice calling his name? Then it slipped away, and only the lights remained.
He swallowed. "They're beautiful. But… also kind of terrifying."
"That's fair," Holly said with a shrug. "Santa's magic always has a weight to it. Even when it looks pretty."
Lucien glanced at her, catching the flicker of seriousness in her tone. "You've seen this before?"
"Once." Holly's gaze drifted to the calves, now curling up in the hay, lights still dancing around them. "When I first came here. I was lost, scared… then the fairies appeared. It felt like they were telling me I'd be okay. And they were right." She paused, her expression distant. "But they never came back. Not for me."
Lucien studied her face, the way her usual sharpness gave way to something softer, almost fragile. He wanted to say something comforting, but the words stuck.
Instead, he let one of the lights drift toward her. It hovered by her shoulder, flickering warmly. Holly's lips curved faintly.
"Guess they like you better," she murmured.
"Or maybe they're just indecisive," Lucien said, managing a smile.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the fairies spin their glowing patterns. The shed felt less like a stable now and more like a cathedral of light, the reindeer their choir.
Finally, Holly stood, brushing straw from her tunic. "Come on. We should head back before Matron Elsbeth sends a search party."
Lucien rose reluctantly, still watching the fairies. "Will they… follow us?"
"No. They'll stay with the reindeer. For now." Holly opened the door, letting in a rush of cold night air. "But if they liked you enough to appear once, maybe they'll return."
Lucien stepped out, the warmth of the lights fading as the door shut behind them. Yet the memory lingered, glowing in his chest.