Chapter 15 — The Ghost of Christmas Punches
The control chamber wasn’t supposed to be beautiful, but it was.
Vaulted ceilings arced overhead, draped with strings of starlight. The floor rippled faintly beneath our boots, like glass remembering it used to be snow. Every inch of the place hummed with restrained magic…alive, aware, waiting for the next mistake.
At the center stood Nick.
He really wasn’t the man Chuck remembered.
I could see that now.
The red coat hung heavier now, weighed down by centuries of mercy turned mechanical. Frost webbed the cuffs, and his eyes glowed faintly beneath the hood’s shadow—equal parts light and regret.
“So this is where it ends,” Nick said. His voice carried like a hymn trying to remember its purpose. “You brought us back to the beginning.”
Chuck adjusted his own tattered coat, its seams smoking faintly from old magic. “You mean the mistake.”
Nick smiled without humor. “Funny. I was going to say miracle.”
They circled each other in the golden half-light—two men, two myths, two ghosts caught in the same unfinished sentence.
I stood near the doorway, quill trembling with anticipation. “Chapter title,” I muttered to myself, “The Climactic Confrontation of Clauses.”
“Shut it, gnome,” Dax whispered.
Nick stepped closer, his breath fogging the air between them. “You think ending this Pact will fix you?”
“I don’t need fixing,” Chuck said.
Nick’s reply came swift and sharp. “Then why are you here?”
The words hit like a spell.
Chuck faltered. “Because Gwen built something into it…something pure…and I corrupted it. You kept it alive, but you didn’t set it free.”
Nick nodded once. “You bound giving to guilt. I bound it to duty. Both of us killed the joy it was meant to carry.”
Chuck nodded. “It’s time to let it die.”
Nick’s eyes softened. “Or…maybe it’s time to let you live.”
The air trembled. Magic thickened like breath before a storm. Every rune on the walls flared, their intertwined spells bracing against one another. The two mägo raised their hands almost in unison, power spiraling into mirrored sigils.
“Don’t,” Dax barked.
But it was too late.
The spells collided with a sound that wasn’t thunder—it was memory breaking. Red and gold light burst through the chamber, ribbons of grief and forgiveness twining together until even the walls seemed to bleed.
Images erupted around them: Gwen laughing, Gwen crying, Gwen walking away. A hundred small moments that once made a life.
Chuck stumbled backward, voice hoarse. “She begged me to forgive you,” he said. “I told her I’d rather die first.”
Nick’s voice broke through the light, calm but shaking. “You almost did. Every year you sent me out with your guilt strapped to my back, I carried the part of you that couldn’t stop hating itself.”
The magic drew them closer. The air crackled, heat meeting frost. Chuck’s coat flared with red fire; Nick’s shimmered gold.
“She wanted us both to be free, Charles,” Nick said.
Chuck struck first. Reflex. Pain. Years of silence condensed into a single motion.
His fist connected with Nick’s jaw in a burst of light that smelled of pine and regret.
Dax winced. “DUDE…you just punched Santa!”
Nick didn’t strike back. He caught Chuck’s arm mid-swing and held it there, the runes on both their hands flaring where they touched.
“I wanted to be you,” Chuck said, his voice cracking. “I wanted to be the man she believed in.”
Nick’s smile was weary but kind. “Then stop pretending, Charles…and just be. You…”
Chuck spun like a top and back-elbowed Nick in the side of the head. “No! Don’t you DARE say it!”
Nick’s head flung to the side, but he didn’t let go.
Dax winced so hard, he threw his own arm up to protect his head. “I’m pretty sure there’s a special hell for Santa-hitters…”
Nick looked at Chuck, smiling through a cracked and bleeding lip. “You…are MORE than you THINK you are, Charles.”
The bear slipped free from Chuck’s coat and landed between them. Its seams glowed, pulsing softly in the aftermath of the spell. Every drop of magic in the room leaned toward it like grass to sunlight.
The runes along the walls dimmed. The starlight strands overhead flickered, then steadied, gentle now. The chamber exhaled.
Chuck fell to his knees, tears freezing on his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Nick knelt beside him, unbuckled the sleigh harness still wrapped around his wrists, and placed one hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “So am I.”
The bear pulsed again, light spreading across the floor, curling into the cracks of the runes…forgiveness soaking into old wounds.
The hum softened to silence.
The Pact hadn’t broken—but it had stopped bleeding.
I stepped forward, closing my ledger with a shaking hand. “For the record,” I said quietly, “this is the first time in recorded history two wizards solved a problem with only one punch.”
Chuck looked up, frowning. “You didn’t see my ninja move?”
I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t a punch.”
Nick sighed. “Still hurt, though.”
Chuck smirked. “Good.”
Dax grinned faintly.
Nick exhaled, breath fogging in the warm air. “The Pact will fade now. Slowly. Naturally. The world will learn to give again, without force.”
Chuck nodded. “And without me.”
“Maybe with you,” Nick corrected. “The man, not the myth.”
The golden light rippled once more, then settled into stillness. For the first time since the world learned to believe in Santa, forgiveness didn’t need magic to work.
I let the quill rest. “Entry complete,” I whispered. “The ghosts have stopped punching.”
Dax exhaled a cloud of smoke shaped almost like a halo. “Merry Christmas, idiots.”
And somehow, that felt like the right ending.
