We drifted through the market, past stalls selling everything from hand-carved nutcrackers to homemade candy canes.
A flash of color caught my eye, drawing me toward a booth displaying handcrafted ornaments. Glass baubles hung from a miniature tree, catching the light and sending rainbow prisms dancing across the cobblestones.
There was a delicate glass ornament shaped like a snow-covered tree, tiny silver stars suspended inside as if caught in a perfect moment of winter magic. My feet stopped of their own accord, my breath catching in my throat.
The ornament seemed to call to me, drawing me forward with an invisible thread. I reached out, my fingers hovering centimeters from its surface.
It was beautiful. It wasright. Like it had been waiting for me all along.
My fingertips brushed the cool glass, and something shifted inside me. Warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading outward through my limbs like liquid gold. The sensation wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like coming home after a long journey, like finding a piece of myself I hadn’t known was missing.
The air around us changed, subtly at first, with a soft golden shimmer that danced across the marketplace like sunlight on water. I thought I was imagining it until I noticed the hush that had fallen over the nearby stalls.
And then the snow began.
Not from the sky, but from nowhere at all. Perfect flakes materialized and drifted down in slow spirals. They glowed like fallen stars as they caught the light.
“I’m not doing this,” I whispered, even as I felt the connection between the magic and myself, like an extension of my very being.
A small child nearby gasped in delight, jumping with hands outstretched to catch the glowing flakes. “Look, Mommy! Snow!”
All around us, people stopped to stare, faces turned upward in wonder. The ornament vendor stood frozen, mouth slightly agape as snowflakes landed on her merchandise, glittering briefly before dissolving into sparkles.
Dash’s fingers entwined with mine, squeezing gently. “Actually, youaredoing this.”
Dane whistled. “Holy nutcracker. Your magic is...”
“Beautiful,” Dash finished, his voice thick with emotion.
For once, I didn’t argue because itwasbeautiful. This thing happening through me brought such pure joy to everyone around us. For a fleeting moment, I understood why my father dedicated his life to creating wonder.
“You!”
The sharp voice cut through the magical haze like a knife. I turned, the snow around me faltering as my joy faded.
Standing at the edge of the nutcracker stall, pointing an accusatory finger directly at me, was Mike.
Yes,thatMike. Nutcracker-collecting, three-Christmas-trees Mike. Palm Springs Mike, who had called me an ice demon and fled from our date like I was contagious.
His face was flushed red, not entirely from the cold, and his eyes were wide with recognition and fear.
My stomach dropped to somewhere around my ankles as our eyes locked. The magical snow stuttered, flakes freezing midair.
I stared at him, and part of me—a very loud, irritated part—wanted to conjure a snow shark and send it racing toward him. I pictured it perfectly: jaws of crystallized ice, dorsal fin cutting through the snow, Mike running and screaming about demon snow predators.
My fingers tingled with untapped power, a reminder that I could absolutely ruin his day if I wanted to. But something deeper than petty revenge stopped me. My magic wasn’t meant for terrorizing nutcracker enthusiasts, no matter how satisfying it might be.
Instead, I lifted my hand and gave him my most condescending finger wave, wiggling my fingers with exaggerated cheerfulness as I called out, “Happy holidays, Mike.”
Dash stepped up on my right, his presence solid and unmistakably protective. Dane mirrored him on my left, his typically playful demeanor replaced with something far more intimidating.
Mike’s face drained of color faster than my spray tan had disappeared. He stumbled backward, knocking into a display of wooden ornaments that clattered to the ground. Without stopping to help, he turned and bolted, his holiday scarf trailing behind him like a surrender flag.
I watched him disappear, anxiety crawling up my throat. “Should I be worried about that? He’s seen me do weird shit twice now.”
Dane’s shoulders relaxed as the tension dissolved. “Nah. Who’s going to believe some random guy ranting about ice demons and magical snow?”
Dash’s hand found the small of my back. “The townspeople here are experts at convincing human visitors that anything unusual is just a trick of the northern lights. Trust me, by tomorrow he’ll have convinced himself it was all an elaborate light show.”
