“No, Glim. She deserves the truth. All of it. Joy has been fading in the world for a while now, and that impacts Christmas joy. As it fades, so does my magic. If my magic fades, then I can’t deliver joy to those who need it most, which, unfortunately, will make the issue worse.”
“But what about all the decorations and music and presents? Christmas is everywhere. How can joy be fading?”
“Commercialization without true spirit is like...” He searched for words. “Like a beautiful Christmas tree with no lights. The form is there, but the joy that makes it special is missing. I can only do so much. Fading joy is a year-round issue.”
Ice formed along the edge of my blanket, spreading outward from where my fingers clutched the fabric. “So you’re dying.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Not dying, exactly.” He reached out, hesitating a moment before covering my hand with his. Warmth flowed from his touch, melting the ice. “Just... fading. Becoming mortal again.”
“And you didn’t think I should know about any of this? That I could have helped?”
My mom made a soft sound. “Neve…”
“No.” I pulled my hands away from both of them. “You told me you were researchers. You let me believe I was human. Meanwhile, I’m some kind of Christmas princess with ice powers? And you’re both just... fine with me finding out like this?”
Outside the frosted windows, the snow fell harder, driven by a wind that hadn’t been there before.
Dad’s eyes tracked the snowfall, a hint of something like pride crossing his face before sadness replaced it. “We thought we were protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From yourself.” His voice was gentle but unyielding. “Your magic was too strong, too wild. And then after the accident…”
Images flashed through my mind with fractured memories of blinding light, screaming, ice spreading in all directions. The feeling of being utterly out of control.
“I only remember pieces of it.” I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to force the memories into focus. “But it’s like looking through frosted glass. I only know about it because of Lumi.”
Dad’s weight shifted on the bed. “It was my fault. I pushed you too hard with your training and wanted you to be ready too soon.”
“Ready for what?”
His eyes met mine, the blue in them glowing faintly. “To take my place.”
I laughed, the sound harsh and brittle. “Take your place? As Santa? That’s ridiculous!”
His face remained serious. “It’s not. You have enough magic to continue on with the tradition.”
“I can’t be...” The words evaporated on my tongue as the full weight of everything crashed down. My entire identity was unraveling—years of lies, powers I couldn’t control, and now the expectation that I’d somehow save Christmas.
My chest tightened, each breath becoming more difficult than the last. The room blurred as tears welled in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. Ice crystals formed where they hit the blanket.
“I don’t… I can’t…” The sobs broke through, and magic pulsed through my veins, responding to my distress as snowflakes began swirling around the room.
For once, I didn’t try to stop it. Didn’t push it down or pretend it wasn’t happening. I let myself break and feel everything I’d been running from: the confusion, the hurt, the anger, losing years I’d never get back.
Dad’s arms wrapped around me, strong and warm and familiar. Mom pressed against my other side, her fingers stroking my hair the way she used to when I was small.
“Let it out, Snowflake,” he murmured against my hair. “The storm always passes.”
I don’t know how long I cried, folded between them like a child. Eventually, the tears slowed, and the snow and ice around the room disappeared as if it had never been there.
I pulled back, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I can’t be Santa.”
His brow furrowed. “Why not?”
I gestured at my chest with both hands. “Because I have these? Among other anatomical differences that I will not be pointing out to my father.”
