Zilla stands in front of the candy shop, she’s nose-to-nose with the tall elf in fur-lined cloak. The elf is gesturing wildly with a half-eaten licorice wand in his hand.. The elf looks like he’d just walked out of a fantasy novel and into a migraine. Zilla’s orange curls are blazing contrast against the pale winter backdrop, like fire tangled in frost. Her hair bounces with every dramatic gesture she makes, a wild halo of copper coils that refuses to be tamed—even by snowflakes.
"He broke into the shop this morning!" Zilla snaps.
"I spent the night, actually." Ice takes a few steps back.
I lean towards Nox, whispering, "Can we go back to your place?"
The elf turns to us, exasperated. "Can you please talk sense into her? She’s been yelling at me for an hour."
Zilla spins around. "Neo! Nox!" she huffs, "Hesleptin the shop. All night. Like some kind of goblin…"
"Did you just call me a goblin?" the elf’s nose turns red. "You’ve been a goblin for over an hour."
Nox blinks slowly, exhaling smoke between the two of them, and looks at me. "I feel older already."
Zilla stops mid-step, her boots sliding on the snow as her eyes lock onto the snowman coming from inside the shop. He isn’t just any snowman—he is a whimsy masterpiece. His coaleyes sparkle like polished obsidian; his carrot nose is perfectly crooked.
"Oh my Coven," Zilla whispers, clutching her chest dramatically. "He’s adorable."
Nox glances over, confused. "It’s a snowman."
"No," Zilla says, eyes wide and voice reverent. "It’sthesnowman. Look at that little smirk; he knows he’s cute. And he’s being smug about it." She circles him slowly, like an art critic admiring a sculpture. "The proportions, his posture and his sass. I want to take him home and give him a name. Something dignified, like Sir Frostington."
I snort. "You’re obsessed."
Zilla doesn’t even deny it. "I am! I want to knit him tiny mittens."
***
After we enter the shop, I march past all of them, grab the shop’s “OPEN” sign, and flip it with a dramaticclackto “CLOSED.” The letters gleam like a declaration of war.
"Okay," I say, spinning around and planting myself in the center of the chaos. "Emergency meeting. Everyone shut it and listen."
Ice blinks. "I think…"
"Shut the fuck up!" Nox looks at Ice.
"I have cocoa authority now," I tell the elf.
He raises an eyebrow. "That’s not a real thing…"
"Dude…" Nox stands up and walks towards him.
"It is when I say it is," I reply, pulling Nox’s hoodie with flair.
"Now," I declare, "I made a list of things we need to do to make Mournton more… festive."
Zilla gasps so hard her toad nearly falls out of her hands. "Can we give the gargoyle a Santa hat?"
"Exactly what I wanted," Nox says, deadpan, arms crossed like a brooding ornament.
Zilla’s eyes sparkle. "Are YOU going to replace Santa?" Her voice is reverent, like she already can’t wait to make fun of Nox.
I step closer to Nox, brushing his cheek with my thumb, leaving a faint trail of peppermint-scented warmth. "No hats," I mumble. "Nox’s costume is going to be different… red… but different."
Nox tilts his head. "So my enemies won’t recognize me."
"You are everyone’s enemy," the elf replies within seconds and Nox gives him a “you are so dead after this” look.
