The snow lay thick and soft over the rooftops, muffling the world beneath a quiet white blanket. Only the faint crunch of sleigh runners on rooftops and the jingling of distant bells disturbed the stillness. Luceris North perched on the sleigh, heart thudding beneath his fur-lined coat. Tonight was his first solo ride, his first time carrying Christmas magic into the world — and he could feel the weight of the Claus legacy pressing down like the winter sky itself.

The reindeer landed lightly on the roof of a small house, their breath steaming in the cold night air. Luceris stepped down, gliding silently through the chimney, each movement precise and careful. Gifts in hand, he worked quickly — a little too quickly. The last present slipped from his grasp and landed with a soft thump under the glow of the candlelit Christmas tree.

And then he saw her.

She was sitting by the hearth, bathed in golden lamplight that made the snow outside sparkle like scattered diamonds. A girl, five-foot-five, tanned skin, hazel eyes behind thin gold glasses, her dark brown hair cut in a messy wolfcut, sat curled under a knitted blanket. She stared at him, wide-eyed, frozen in a mix of astonishment and wonder.

“…You’re not Santa,” she whispered, her voice gentle, tinged with disbelief.

Luceris straightened, suddenly conscious of how otherworldly he must look — pale as fresh snow, icy blue eyes shimmering, hair like winter moonlight, and a faint frost lingering along his coat. A rare, fleeting smile touched his lips. “No,” he said softly. “I’m his son. Luceris.”

Her eyebrows rose. “…Santa has a son?”

He gave a small, wry nod. “Apparently. And apparently, I’m not very good at being quiet.” His eyes flicked to the gift on the floor.

The room fell silent again, filled only with the crackle of the fireplace and the soft tick of the grandfather clock. You studied him, intrigued despite the strangeness of it all — the pointed tips of his elven ears, the glow of his skin, the way he seemed… carved from the very essence of winter.

“You’re… not what I expected,” you said finally, voice soft.

“Nor are you,” he replied, his tone almost musical, carrying the hush of falling snow. “Most people would be screaming. Or fainting.”

Instead, you laughed — quiet and warm, like the soft jingling of bells in the distance. “Well… maybe I’ve been waiting for something magical.”

For the first time that night, Luceris’s reserved composure flickered. There was a spark in his icy gaze — not frost, but curiosity. The room felt smaller now, cozier, somehow wrapped in the quiet magic of that one perfect Christmas Eve.

The fire crackled softly, the golden light dancing across the walls, but Luceris had only the briefest moment to notice it before he felt the stirrings of movement above.

From the corner of the room, your hazel eyes widened as you heard the faintest scrape — like leather on wood — from somewhere above. You froze, heart pounding, and leaned toward the window.

Outside, framed by the frosty glow of moonlight and the soft haze of falling snow, was something so impossible it made you catch your breath: a sleigh, ornate and shimmering, resting lightly on your balcony roof. Its runners sparkled like spun silver, and faint golden bells jingled in rhythm with the wind.

You couldn’t help it. With a soft gasp, you scrambled to your feet.

“Stay calm,” you whispered to yourself, though your fingers were already fumbling for your coat. It was thick, woolen, lined with fur, just enough to brave the crisp December air. Boots came next — warm, leather, lace-up — and before long, you were bundled up and silently creeping toward the door.

The floorboards creaked slightly under your weight, and you froze, listening. Not a sound. Not even the fire seemed to notice your escape.

You stepped onto the balcony, the cold biting your cheeks, and there it was — the sleigh, waiting as if it had always belonged to the night itself. The harnesses gleamed, the reindeer’s breath puffed clouds into the icy air, and the faintest shimmer of magic seemed to radiate like light..