NEO
Nox pulls the mask from his belt, the black fabric catching faint glimmers of light as he raises it. His movements are deliberate, almost ritualistic, as if the act itself carries weight. With a sharp tug, he secures it across his mouth, the edges molding to his jawline. The mask mutes his expression but sharpens his presence—his eyes burning with intensity now the only visible feature.
I watch in silence, the glow of the map on my arm dimming as my attention is fixed on Nox entirely. There is something magnetic in the way the mask transforms him—dangerous, commanding, yet undeniably striking. The sharp lines of his face and the way his gaze cuts through the room, makes my breath catch for just a moment.
It isn’t just about appearance for me; it’s about the aura Nox now carries—the way the mask seems to crown him with an edge of mystery and power. He’s so handsome, but it’s more than that; it’s him looking untouchable, like a figure carved from shadow and darkness.
The elf tilts his head, squinting at Nox. "Nice mask. You look less like a warrior and more like someone about to rob a gingerbread house."
"Dude, you are digging your own grave," I tell him.
Nox’s eyes narrow above the mask, his voice low and dangerous. "Keep talking… and you’ll find out how quickly gingerbread turns to ash. With you inside it."
As Nox passes the elf, he doesn’t slow, and he doesn’t glance back; he just slams his shoulder hard into the elf’s chest.
The elf staggers, glitter scattering from his sleeves. He mutters something under his breath, half indignation and half wounded pride, but Nox is already gone, his figure cutting through the shop like a blade.
"He’s going to break your annoying little face once this is over." I turn to face the elf.
The elf smirks, "I’ll be long gone by then."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night… or keeps you from wetting your bed."
***
We trudge through the fog-laden street until the first house looms before us. It’s a crooked little cottage, its roof curling upward like the tip of a candy cane. Strings of lights zigzag across the shingles, blinking in uneven rhythms, while oversized ornaments dangle from the eaves, swaying gently in the cold night air.
The walls are painted in cheerful stripes of red and green, though the colors have faded, giving the place a ghostly charm. A door-sized wreath hangs crooked, its holly berries shriveled but dusted with glitter. The windows glow warm and golden, yet the curtains twitch; it’s as if unseen eyes try to peer out.
The frost-slick shingles creak under their boots as Nox and the elf crouch beside the crooked chimney. Smoke curls upward in lazy spirals, carrying the faint scent of wood.
Ice peers down into the dark shaft, wrinkling his nose."Looks cozy. You should go first."
Nox adjusts his mask, glaring. "Why me?"
"Because you’re the scary one. If something’s waiting down there, it’ll run away screaming. If I go first, I’ll just get stuck somehow and look ridiculous."
Nox leans closer to the chimney, muttering. "You’d get stuck because you eat too many cookies."
Ice smirks. "And you’d get stuck because your ego wouldn’t fit."
For a moment, the rooftop is silent except for Ice and Nox and I roll my eyes, standing on the ground in front of the house, watching the two fight on the rooftop. "Do you want me to push you?"
"Why would you push me, you creep?" Nox lets out a sharp breath through his nose, his jaw tightening. His head snaps to the side, eyes cutting towards the elf with a glare that carries more irritation than words ever could. The movement is quick. His brows draw together, lips pressed into a thin line, the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying just how much the elf was getting under his skin. "Fine, I’ll go first. But if I get covered in soot, it’s your fault, and if you touch me, you’re dead."
Ice grins, hefting the sack of gifts. "Deal. I’ll just tell everyone Santa’s got a new look—grim and grumpy."
The shingles groan as Nox swings himself into the chimney, soot crumbling down in a soft cascade. Ice leans over the edge, lowering the sack of gifts after him, still grinning at his partner’s gruff complaints.
Chapter 34
NOX
Idrop into the parlor with a heavy thud, soot trailing behind me like black snow. A crooked Christmas tree stands waiting in the corner, its ornaments dangling at odd angles.
Ice follows moments later, sliding down the chimney with far less grace. He lands beside me, coughing through a cloud of ash, the sack of presents clutched tightly in his arms. I step forward first, a gift clutched firmly in my gloved hand. I crouch at the base of the tree, intent on setting it down among the pile of presents already shimmering beneath the branches. But before I can, the fucking elf darts in, trying to snatch the box with a sly grin.
We collide at the foot of the tree, shoulders slamming and hands gripping the same ribbon. The gift rattles, its glow pulsing brighter as if it’s feeding on our struggle.
