The great hall. Massive ceilings. A tree stretching toward the sky.
My breath caught as images flooded my mind. Not soft, warm childhood memories that had been trickling back, but something sharper. Harder.
I was fifteen, awkward and furious, standing before an enormous pine. My hands outstretched, trembling with effort as I tried to make the ornaments float onto the branches like I’d seen my father do.
“Focus, Neve. Channel your intention.” A tall figure stood beside me, disapproval dripping from every perfect angle of their posture.
The ornaments shook, rose slightly, then crashed to the marble floor, shattering into a thousand glittering shards.
“Perhaps we should try again tomorrow.” Their voice was crisp with annoyance.
Ice spread from beneath my feet, crackling across the polished floor.
I inhaled sharply, dropping the ornament. Don’s hand shot out, catching it before it hit the ground.
“You okay?” His voice wrapped around me like a blanket.
I nodded too fast, air sticking in my lungs. “Yeah. I just got dizzy.”
Don didn’t press. He gave me a look that felt like it saw more than it should, then gently placed the ornament back in my hand. “This one belongs near the top.”
Blitz didn’t joke, didn’t tease. For once, his usual sparkle dimmed slightly as he watched me. “It’s coming back faster, isn’t it?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because, yes, something was cracking open inside me, and I didn’t know what would come out once it shattered.
Instead, I turned toward the tree, lifted the ornament, and carefully placed it near the highest branch I could reach. It caught the light again, scattering fragments across the room, and for a moment, it almost felt like magic.
I turned back to the bags of decorations strewn across my living room floor, curious despite my determination to remain aloof. “So, what’s the plan here?”
Blitz’s face lit up as he pulled out his phone. “First, we need the proper ambiance.”
He tapped the screen a few times, and my Bluetooth speaker came to life with “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” The melody was jazzier than the version I knew.
“Music is non-negotiable.” Don began methodically untangling a string of warm white lights, his hands moving with surprising delicacy. “These go on first.”
I reached for the other end of the lights. “I’ll help.”
We worked in a weird, comfortable silence for a few minutes. Don led the way around the tree, his height allowing him to reach the uppermost branches while I managed the middle sections.
Blitz circled behind us, fluffing brancheswith theatrical precision. “This one’s a little droopy. And this one needs more... poof.”
“Is ‘poof’ the technical term?” I handed Don the last section of lights.
Blitz tilted his head, expression tightening as he focused on a stubborn branch. “I have a PhD in Christmas Tree Aesthetics.”
“From which university? North Pole State?” It was supposed to be a joke, but something told me I wasn’t wrong.
Don’s mouth pulled into a slow smile, and Blitz let out a bright laugh that somehow matched the music perfectly.
“Pole Tech.” Blitz waved an invisible pennant flag. “Go, Snowmen!”
I snorted, not knowing if he was joking or being serious. I reached into one of the bags and pulled out a glass bird. It sent rainbow prisms dancing across my hands. Something about it felt... familiar.
Don appeared at my side, gently taking a heavy, intricately carved wooden ornament from another bag. “These go toward the bottom. For balance.”
“There’s a science to this,” Blitz insisted, pulling out a shimmering gold ball. “Spatial distribution, color theory, and weight distribution. It’s very serious business.”
I hung the glass bird on a middle branch. “And here I thought all I had to do was throw stuff on until it looked pretty.”
