I sigh. "This is going to be a long ride."
Chapter 8
NOX
Neo looks out of the window, her eyes wide. "Okay, that’s festive. In a ‘we might die but at least it’s themed’ kind of way."
The elf chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. "Welcome to Christmas town, love. Where the cocoa is always hot and the ornaments are used for money."
The train screeches into Christmas Station with a dramatic puff of steam and a jingle that sounds suspiciously like someone laughing in reverse. The red engine glows faintly under a sky stitched with crooked stars, its wheels grinding to a halt on tracks made of candy cane and rusty sleigh bells.
Outside, Christmas Town has bloomed into full, chaotic glory. Twisted garlands hang from lampposts, glowing faintly green and red. Snowmen wave cheerfully. A choir of elves in itchy wool sweaters sings carols in festive harmony. The trees are decorated with ornaments that blink, giggle and sing.
I step off the train first, my boots crunching on snow. "Festive," I mutter. Neo follows and I turn, the flickering lanterns casting sharp shadows across her face. I hold up a gloved hand towards her.
It isn’t just a gesture—it is my promise to help her. My fingers are steady, palm open. "Come on," I say, voice low and warm, cutting through the eerie carols echoing from the choirnearby. "Time to save a holiday." Neo reaches out, her fingers slipping into mine, her other hand clutching the bag that still sloshes with the melted snowman. The elf hops down last, eyes darting like he expected a crowd to scream his name.
The platform is lined with crooked candy canes and flickering lanterns. A sign overhead readsWelcome to Christmas Townin letters stitched from ribbon and gold.
Neo takes a deep breath. "Okay. We have to string holly through spider silk, teach skeletons to sing and hang enough ornaments to keep the cold out. We can bring Christmas to Mournton and call itCreepmas."
The elf grins. "And try not to get eaten by a festive shrub in your town."
I whimper. "I hate this holiday."
The train whistles once before vanishing into the fog. It leaves us behind in the heart of Christmas town.
***
Neo stands in the middle, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her eyes wide with wonder. She holds the bag, the snowman sloshing inside gently, his carrot nose bobbing like a buoy of authority. Her boots crunch on snow and every time she spots an ornament or a choir hitting a high note, she lights up like a cursed Christmas tree.
I watch her with a grin that refuses to be cynical. She is radiant in the weirdest way—laughing at garlands, waving at reindeer and talking to the bag like it’s her grumpy old friend. Watching Neo enjoy Christmas is like watching someone unwrap a holiday present they didn’t know they would get. She is stitching magic into the crooked bones of this town with every step, every smile and every whispered spell.
Me? I am just happy to be in the shadows beside her. I’d seen a thousand haunted holidays, but none of them had ever felt like this. She turns to me, her eyes sparkling. "Isn’t it beautiful?"
I nod, smiling, my hands in the pockets of my coat. "You’re beautiful. The town’s just trying to keep up."
Neo sees the kind of chaos that makes her feel safe in me. I am sharp-edged and naughty, but when I look at her, there’s a softness behind the grin—a silent promise that I’ll stand between her and whatever haunted garland tries to bite. She trusts me not because I’m predictable, but because I’m consistent in my unpredictability.
Me, on the other hand, I am utterly fascinated by Neo. She’s light wrapped in mystery, a spark that refuses to dim even when the world turns eerie. I love watching her. She’s brave in ways I’ve never been—kind without being naive, magical without being reckless. She grounds me, even when everything around us jingles with madness.
We feel for each other in a way that’s tangled, electric and quietly profound. Like two mismatched ornaments that somehow decorate the same tree.
***
The bag is becoming a spectacle as we wander deeper into town. The remains of the snowman sloshing gently inside the bag are making townsfolk stare. Not subtly—boldly. Elves pause mid-carol, blinking their colored eyes. Even a reindeer floats by, looking at the bag and snorting in judgement.
Neo clutches the bag tighter. "They’re staring."
The elf glances around, unfazed. "Of course they are. You’re carrying a melted authority figure in a plastic bag. It’s bad for the planet."
"Wehaveto get rid of it." I say, and I feel them looking at me already.
We duck into a crooked alley lined with twitching garlands and whispering wreaths.
"Okay," Neo says. "What do we do?"
"What do we do? What do you mean ‘get rid of it’? Do the paperwork. Get him to the Frost Vault first and do the paperwork after. Talk to them… explain what happened. Why you are here." The elf starts to walk in circles.
