Chapter 14 — Mistletoe Ambush
We never make it anywhere quietly.
The tunnels beneath the Prime Gate were proof. They began to hum with an off-key melody—faint at first, then swelling into the unmistakable, horrifying sound of carolers.
I froze mid-step. “Tell me that’s not—”
“Animated constructs,” Dax grunted, once more setting into a defensive stance. “I’m gonna guess defense wards? Maybe Gwen’s idea of festive security??”
From the shadows ahead, a snowman waddled into view—a perfect caricature of joy. Three spheres of packed frost, a grin wide enough to qualify as sinister, and in its mittened hands, a garland of mistletoe coiled like a whip.
“Unauthorized presence detected,” it sang cheerfully. “Prepare for Yuletide!”
Chuck blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
The snowman lunged.
Dax met it mid-air, punching through a shoulder made of enchanted slush. The wound sealed instantly. The thing giggled.
“Oh good,” I muttered, ducking as another rolled from a side tunnel. “They reproduce through rhyme.”
“Deck the halls with mortal folly!” the second one sang.
“Called it,” I said.
The bear under Chuck’s coat vibrated in warning. “They’re not attacking us,” he said, dodging a frosty punch. “They’re reacting to intent. The Gate’s reading me as a threat.”
“Are you one?” Dax asked, batting aside a snow-arm.
“Maybe!” Chuck shouted. “But not to her!”
The scarf at his belt glowed, threads unspooling into ribbons of gold that spiraled outward, forming a thin, radiant barrier. The snowmen recoiled, wobbling on their coal-feet.
“Ha!” I crowed, quill in one hand, pure terror in the other. “Recognition protocols! Gwen’s magic won’t fight what it forgives.”
“Then how come I’m still getting punched?” Chuck barked, just as a third snowman socked him square in the jaw.
He staggered back, clutching his face. The bruise bloomed instantly—pale, perfect, and unmistakably heart-shaped.
Dax hauled him upright. “You all right?”
“No,” Chuck groaned, rubbing the mark. “But apparently I’m loved.”
I snorted despite myself. “Documenting: emotional injury shaped like affection. Symbolic irony, ten out of ten.”
“Strike that comment,” Chuck grumbled.
“No can do,” I giggled. “I’m under contract.”
The wizard glared at me, then sighed. “Should’ve added more clauses.”
“I think that’s what got you here in the first place.”
“Oh, shut it,” Chuck snapped.
But I caught the smirk as he turned away.
From deeper in the tunnels, the caroling grew louder, swelling into a chorus that echoed off the stone.
“He’s making a list,
He’s paying his debt,
He’s finding the pain he’ll never forget—”
“Oh, brilliant,” I hissed. “She weaponized irony.”
The bear’s glow brightened, spilling warm light across the tunnel. The snowmen froze mid-verse. Their coal eyes softened, then dimmed. One by one, they bowed their heads and melted into puddles of clean, glittering water.
Steam drifted upward, carrying the faint scent of cinnamon.
Chuck straightened, breathing hard. “She built defenses that only yield to sincerity.”
“Which means?” Dax asked, flicking slush off his hands.
“Which means we’re close to her control nexus,” I said. “If you start lying again, we’ll likely be murdered by a choir.”
Dax frowned. “I hate choirs.”
“Then behave,” I warned.
Chuck exhaled slowly. The scarf at his waist fluttered like it was breathing with him. “Right, then. Keep telling the truth. Keep telling the truth.”
We pressed on, the path curving upward. The air warmed with every step, humming in rhythm with the bear’s pulse. The tunnel opened into a vaulted chamber where crystal panels lined the walls, reflecting fragments of light like shattered stained glass.
At the far end, a massive door waited…its surface alive with runes that pulsed in time with Chuck’s heartbeat.
Dax whistled low. “That it?”
“Pretty sure,” I said. “That looks like a control seal. Which would mean this is the heart of the failsafe.”
Chuck approached, slow and deliberate. Each step sent ripples of gold across the floor. The bear under his coat throbbed, calm and steady, matching the rhythm of Gwen’s rune somewhere deep below.
Nick appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, unbound now, leaning heavily against the wall. “Careful,” he said. “If she built this the way I think she did, it’ll test you before it lets you through.”
Chuck didn’t turn.
The snow had quieted outside, yet the air still tasted like storm. My quill scratched across the page. Entry: final approach. Emotional transparency required. Stakes: existential.
Dax stepped closer, his voice unusually gentle. “You think she’ll forgive you for comin’ back here?”
Chuck’s answer came soft but sure. “She already did.”
The words hit something in the chamber. The runes brightened, flaring like sunrise behind frost. The door shivered, then unfurled into light—opening not by mechanism, but by invitation.
A wave of warmth rolled out, smelling of ginger, pine, and candle wax.
Chuck squared his shoulders and stepped forward. The scarf glimmered against his coat, the bear glowing bright at his heart.
Nick smiled faintly. “She’s waiting.”
And as we followed Chuck into the light, the door’s radiance curved around us, soft as forgiveness, fierce as memory.
You’re definitely a born comedian! That title! And your subscribe threat! Hilarious! Merry Christmas if I don’t say it sooner! 🎄🎅🤾♂️