Jack
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. The icy walls of my uncle's lair loom before us, a fortress of frost and shadow. Gracie's hand finds mine, her warmth a stark contrast to the biting cold around us.
"Ready?" she whispers, her breath misting in the frigid air.
I nod, trying to ignore the dark whispers at the edges of my mind. "As I'll ever be."
We creep forward, Sassy floating behind us, her wand at the ready. The entrance to the lair is a massive archway of jagged ice, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seem to move in the dim light.
"Well, isn't this cheery," Sassy mutters. "I feel like I'm about to be eaten by a giant snow cone."
Despite the tension, I can't help but chuckle. "Keep it down, Sass. We don't want to alert the whole place."
We slip inside, the temperature dropping even further. The halls are a maze of ice and shadow, every surface reflecting distorted versions of ourselves. I lead the way, relying on half-remembered childhood visits and an instinct I can't quite explain.
As we turn a corner, I freeze. There, at the end of the hall, stands a figure I'd hoped never to see again. My uncle, Jack Frost, his eyes glowing with malevolent power.
"Well, well," he drawls, his voice as cold as the air around us. "If it isn't my wayward nephew and his little friends. Come to join the winning side at last, Jack?"
I feel it then – a surge of darkness, rising from deep within me. My vision blurs, rage and power threatening to overwhelm me. I clench my fists, fighting for control.
"Jack?" Gracie's voice cuts through the haze, her hand tightening on mine. "Stay with me."
I blink, forcing the darkness back. "Never," I spit at my uncle. "We're here for Santa. Where is he?"
Jack Frost laughs, the sound like breaking icicles. "Oh, he's here alright. But you'll never reach him in time."
He waves his hand, and suddenly the floor beneath us gives way. We plummet into darkness, Sassy's startled shriek echoing off the walls.
We land hard on a sheet of ice, sliding uncontrollably towards a pit of swirling shadows. Just as we're about to fall in, a massive gray form drops from above, landing with a thunderous impact that cracks the ice and halts our slide.
"Fat Bastard?" Gracie gasps, staring at the enormous cat now sprawled across the ice.
The feline familiar grins, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth. "Heards yous could use a hand. Or in this case, a butt."
Before we can respond, Jack Frost appears above us, fury etched on his face. He raises his staff, ice crackling at its tip – but Fat Bastard is faster. With a mighty leap, he launches himself at my uncle, pinning him to the ground with his considerable bulk.
"Get off me, you oversized furball!" Jack Frost wheezes, struggling beneath the cat's weight.
Fat Bastard just purrs contentedly. "Nah, I's thinks I'lls stays right here. You's makes a comfy seat."
Taking advantage of the distraction, we scramble to our feet. In the confusion, I spot a glimmer of red through a nearby doorway – Santa's workshop.
"This way!" I shout, grabbing Gracie's hand and pulling her towards the door.
As we run, dodging icicles and leaping over crevasses, I can't help but marvel at the woman beside me. Her face is flushed with exertion, her eyes bright with determination. Even with her ridiculous candy cane hair, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
We burst through the door, slamming it shut behind us. For a moment, we just stand there, breathing heavily, our eyes locked. Then, as if drawn by an irresistible force, we move towards each other.
Our lips meet in a kiss that's both fierce and tender, a promise and a declaration. The world falls away, and for a heartbeat, there's nothing but us – no Ancient Evil, no prophecy, just Gracie and me.
When we finally pull apart, she grins up at me. "Took you long enough, Snow."
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in days. "Better late than never, right?"
A pointed cough interrupts us. We turn to see Sassy floating nearby, her arms crossed. "If you two are quite finished, we do have a jolly old elf to rescue."
Right. Santa. The mission. I nod, reluctantly stepping back from Gracie. "Let's do this."
We press deeper into Santa's workshop, hope dwindling with each empty room. Gracie's face is set in grim determination, while Sassy floats ahead, her wand casting eerie shadows on the walls.
"I don't like this," I mutter, my eyes scanning for any sign of the jolly old elf. "It's too quiet."
Just as the words leave my mouth, a cacophony of bells erupts from somewhere ahead. We sprint towards the sound, bursting through a set of ornate double doors—only to find ourselves in what looks like Santa's personal study. Books line the walls, and half-finished toys litter every surface. But no Santa.
"Dammit!" I slam my fist against the wall, frost spreading from the impact. "We're too late."
Gracie's hand finds my shoulder, her touch grounding me. "We'll find him, Jack. We have to."
Before I can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the air, dripping with sarcasm. "Well, well. Look what the reindeer dragged in."
We whirl around to see Zelda lounging in an oversized armchair, her feet propped up on Santa's desk. In her hands, she's twirling what looks like a golden scepter topped with a miniature sun.
"Zelda?" Gracie gasps. "What are you doing here?"
The witch rolls her eyes. "Oh, you know, just taking in the sights. It's about damn time you lot showed up."
Sassy floats over, her eyes wide. "This was the secret mission you went on? You could have invited me. You know I've always wanted to explore Santa's workshop." She pauses, glancing around. "Did you find the elves?"
Zelda snorts. "Please. Those little buggers scattered faster than cookies at a Weight Watchers meeting."
I step forward, eyeing the scepter. "Is that what I think it is?"
"If you think it's the Sun Scepter, then congratulations, Captain Obvious." Zelda stands, tossing the scepter from hand to hand. "Turns out, it was here all along. Old Saint Nick's been holding out on us."
"But where is Santa?" Gracie asks, her brow furrowed.
Zelda's expression softens slightly. "I'm afraid we're too late. The Ancient Evil moved him before I could stop him."
My heart sinks, but before I can wallow in despair, Zelda continues.
"But!" She waves the scepter dramatically. "With this little beauty, we might just have a chance at turning things around."
I watch as the rest of our ragtag group files into the room, their eyes widening at the sight of the Sun Scepter in Zelda's hands.
Holli steps forward, her green eyes narrowing. "Okay, we've got the fancy stick. What's our next move?"
I clear my throat, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze. "It's simple, really. We head to the Temple of Shadows."
A collective shudder runs through the group. Abbi and Gracie exchange worried glances, their faces paling.
"The Temple of Shadows, again?" Abbi's Scottish lilt trembles slightly. "Ye cannae be serious."
Gracie nods, her candy cane hair bobbing. "That place gives me the creeps. It's like a black hole for happiness."
Zelda rolls her eyes, twirling the scepter. "As much as I hate to be the voice of reason—and trust me, I do—we need to make a pit stop first. The Heart of Christmas. We gear up, then we kick some Ancient Evil ass."
Dane, his muscular form tensed, raises an eyebrow. "And how exactly do we get there? Sprinkle some reindeer dust and think happy thoughts?"
A wicked grin spreads across Zelda's face, her green eyes glinting with mischief. I can't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and dread. Whenever that look crosses her features, chaos is sure to follow.
"Oh, I've got something better than reindeer dust," she drawls, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. She clears her throat dramatically, puffing out her chest like some ridiculous herald about to make a royal proclamation. I brace myself for whatever madness is about to unfold.
"Hey, Yo Pain In My Ass!" Zelda bellows, her voice echoing through the air. "Get your sparkly, fashion-disaster self down here!"
I wince at the volume, half-expecting the sky to crack open in response to her less-than-reverent summons. Knowing Zelda, she's probably calling upon some ancient, powerful being with all the decorum of ordering takeout. This can't possibly end well.
I watch in disbelief as Zelda continues her irreverent summoning, her voice rising with each passing moment of silence.
"Yo, Carol! Did you get lost in your closet again? I swear, if I have to wade through another sea of shoulder pads and leg warmers to find you, I'll turn your minions into lawn ornaments!"
Gracie stifles a giggle beside me, and I can't help but smirk. Zelda's on a roll now, her face flushing with exertion and frustration.
"Listen here, you glitter-obsessed, time-warped excuse for a witch! If you don't show up in the next five seconds, I'm redecorating your chicken-legged hut with neon pink flamingos and garden gnomes!"
Sassy chimes in, "Ooh, can we add some exploding garden gnomes? I've been working on a new spell!"
Zelda shoots her a grin. "Now we're talking! Hey, Baba Yaga! You hear that? We're about to turn your place into a tacky lawn ornament hellscape!"
When there's still no response, Zelda throws her hands up dramatically. "Fine! Have it your way! I'm telling Daddy-O about that time you tried to enchant your hair and ended up with a mullet for a month!"
I can't hold back anymore and burst into laughter, tears streaming down my face. The others join in, the tension of our dire situation momentarily forgotten in the face of Zelda's increasingly ridiculous threats.
"Oh, for the love of all that's sparkly and tacky!" Zelda bellows, her face now as red as Santa's suit. "If you don't get your permed, bedazzled bony ass down here right now, I swear I'll... I'll... I'll tell everyone about your secret Backstreet Boys shrine!"
The room falls silent for a beat, then erupts into hysterical laughter. Even Dane, usually so stoic, is doubled over, shoulders shaking with mirth.
The air crackles with energy, and suddenly we're engulfed in a swirl of glowing purple smoke and blue bubbles. When it clears, we find ourselves standing in the Heart of Christmas, surrounded by twinkling lights and the scent of cinnamon.
Baba Yaga materializes, her blonde hair teased to gravity-defying heights. "Who're you calling a fashion disaster, you potty-mouthed brat?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Zelda retorts, "I didn't realize '80s prom queen reject was back in style."
As they continue hurling insults at each other, I catch Cristof's eye. He steps forward, his silver eyes flashing. "Ladies, as entertaining as this is, we have a Santa to save and a holiday to rescue."
I nod, grateful for the interruption. "Right. The Temple of Shadows. It's a nasty piece of work, all jagged ice and impossible angles. It's like the building itself is trying to swallow you whole."
I pull out the map, spreading it on a nearby table. "Based on what I know and what this shows, they'll likely try to sacrifice Santa at the highest peak. It's where the dark energy is strongest."
I lean over the map, my finger tracing the jagged outline of the Temple of Shadows. "Alright, we need to find a way in without alerting every shadow in the place."
Suddenly, the map shimmers, and a gravelly voice echoes from its surface. "You seek entry to the Temple of Shadows? Foolish mortals."
Gracie jumps back, her eyes wide. "Did... did the map just talk?"
I nod, unsurprised. "It's an ancient artifact. Of course it talks."
The map continues, its voice dripping with disdain. "The highest peak is guarded by the darkest of magics. You'll need more than your pitiful skills to reach it."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I mutter. "Any helpful suggestions?"
The map's surface ripples, revealing hidden pathways. "There are three routes to the peak. The Path of Whispers, where silence is your only ally. The Corridor of Reflections, where reality bends and twists. And the Stairway of Frost, a treacherous climb that only the winter-born can navigate."
Cristof leans in, his silver eyes narrowed. "Which one gives us the best chance?"
"None, without the key," the map replies cryptically.
I feel a chill run down my spine, realization dawning. "Uncle Jack Frost. He's the key, isn't he?"
The map's surface gleams in affirmation. "The Temple recognizes its master. Without him, you'll never reach the inner sanctum."
Gracie's hand finds mine, squeezing tight. "But Jack, he's working with the Ancient Evil. How can we possibly convince him to help us?"
I take a deep breath, my mind racing. "We don't convince him. We trick him."
Zelda grins, a wicked glint in her eye. "Now you're speaking my language, Snow. What's the plan?"