"Giant toy soldiers and a wooden gate?" Gwen blinked, shading her eyes against the late‐afternoon sun. Before them stood two towering oak doors, carved with brass hinges, flanked by a dozen painted wooden guards—life-size toy soldiers whose bolt-upright posture and glossy red coats somehow felt menacing.
Max rested a hand on Gwen's shoulder. "Huh. Maybe this was part of an old seasonal theme park. They must've packed up and left the set pieces behind."
A sudden chill breeze gusted through the soldiers, rattling their muskets. Ben's breath came out in misty puffs. "Did you guys feel that? It's like an arctic wind—but we're in Salem."
Gwen's grin lit her face. "Only one way to find out." She darted forward. Ben flashed a thumbs-up and raced to her side. Fred lingered, rubbing his arms. "Umm—if it's a sub-zero wonderland, we've got heat back in the rust bucket, y'know."
They pressed between the doors—and the world flipped.
Snow fluttered down in wide, lazy flakes, coating rolling hills in dazzling white. Pine trees loomed like silent sentinels. The sky was a pale winter twilight, even though summer's sun still shone above the mall behind them.
"Snow!" Gwen laughed, scooping a handful and letting it fall through her fingers. "In the middle of July?"
Ben knelt, compressing a snowball with expert precision. "If there's snow…there must be a—" He hurled the ball at Gwen's shoulder. It exploded on contact in a burst of crystalline shards.
"Snowball fight!" he crowed, shifting into XLR8 in a streak of blue and white light. Within a heartbeat he raided an entire snowdrift, reforming dozens of perfect spheres in his hands.
Gwen's eyes narrowed with mock indignation. "No fair—super-speed cheating!" she yelled, summoning a translucent mana barrier that deflected a volley of snow-pellets.
Ben chuckled, slinging snowballs at rapid-fire speeds. They whistled past like icicle darts, chipping tiny divots in the ground. Gwen countered by telekinetically scooping up snowballs, flinging them with deadly accuracy—each orb a spinning globe of ice. The air crackled with frost-kissed magic as they darted, parried, and dove behind drifted logs.
Max shook his head in amazement. "How are they powering this all in the height of summer?"
Fred frowned at the pristine mantle of snow. "The electric bills must be insane—though maybe it's pure magic powering the chill."
Max cantered forward, yanking out a handful of snow. "You two are on thin ice." He launched a snowball of his own—whump!—sending Gwen toppling backward in laughter.
"Okay, okay—truce!" she gasped, brushing powder from her bonnet.
Ben skidded to a stop, snow spraying like sparks. They high-fived, faces red and breath steaming. Max pointed toward a cluster of frosted rooftops in the distance. "See that? Looks like a settlement."
Gwen folded her arms, nuts-and-bolts thinker. "They must be using some insane climate control. Everyone's bundled up—yet the world outside is summer."
Fred's brow furrowed. "Encapsulate a whole town in refrigeration? That's next-level."
Suddenly, a flurry of tiny, red-clad elves skidded past them on pointy shoes. Gwen's jaw dropped. "Are those—?"
"Elves?" Ben finished for her, eyes wide.
Gwen tipped her head. "Wonder where they keep the reindeer…"
Ben pointed. A row of reindeer harnessed to a gleaming sled grazed beside a candy-cane lamppost. The elves hustled about—some stacking toy crates, others marching in formation like those wooden soldiers.
Max pulled the kids into a cluster. He wrapped an arm around each shoulder. "You know, we've never really spent Christmas together as a family."
Ben blinked. "You're right—mom and Grandma are always so busy back home."
Gwen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "This makes me wish…we could actually have a real Christmas all together."
Max's eyes twinkled. "Me, too. Maybe someday."
Ben's grin flared. "In the meantime—I'm hitting the bobsled ride!"
Gwen spun on her boots. "Ice skating for me!"
Fred cracked his knuckles. "And I'm building a snow fortress."
They split, sprinting toward their chosen holiday obsession as Max chuckled, shaking his head at their boundless energy.
Twenty minutes later, Gwen laced up rental ice skates on a frozen lake, Ben whooped atop a twisting bobsled track, and Fred crouched behind a rampart of compacted snow—an impressive fortress bristling with icicle battlements.
They reconvened at the snow keep, breathless. Gwen plucked a candy cane from her pocket. "So—what's the verdict?"
Fred surveyed his handiwork proudly. "Sturdy. Frost-proof. I even reinforced the walls with extra mana-binding."
Ben perched on a turret of snow. "Sweet. But hey—" His voice cut off as a martial drumbeat echoed over the hills.
Gwen's eyes snapped toward the horizon. "Toy soldiers—again?" Dozens of painted red soldiers marched down the slope in crisp formation, toy swords glinting under the winter sun.
"They're not here for games," Fred muttered. His breath turned to frosted mist.
Before they could gear up, a tiny voice piped behind them. An elf in a green coat waved, eyes wide: "This way!"
Gwen slashed a rune on the snow, sprouting two towering snow golems—lumbering giants of ice and frost. Each golem's fists were snow-packed boulders, eyes glowing cobalt as they lumbered forward, blocking the soldiers' charge.
The trio sprinted behind the elf into a narrow alley. The chill wind whistled through wooden stalls. "It's not safe here," the elf warned, voice hushed.
Fred rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that's one way to meet a neighbor."
Gwen eyed him. "Shh. Why do we even fear these soldiers?"
The elf's gaze flicked overhead. "If you stay, you will fall under their spell. You'll become one of us—enslaved to Mister Jingles' Christmas army."
Fred's mouth dropped. "Child slavery—elf edition?"
Gwen cut in, steady voice. "Look at Fred." She rummaged in her satchel, pulled out a small silver mirror, and handed it to Ben.
Ben stared—his own eyes widened, pointed and tufted ears poking through his hair. He yelped, pressing hands to his head. "Hey! Why me?"
Gwen's tone softened. "A powerful mage casts protection spells—blocks mind control and curses." She shot, Fred a triumphant smile Fred wagged a finger. "I taught her that."
Ben rolled his eyes. "No fair—"
The elf's shoulders slumped after Gwen asked if the elf can help them find Max. "Mister Jingles probably has him—he thinks your Grandpa Max is Santa Claus. So he's back at the square, setting up his winter court."
Gwen, Fred, and Ben exchanged grim looks. The wind rustled icy pine. Toy soldiers at the alley's mouth clicked their swords in unison, readying to advance.
Gwen's eyes blazed with purpose. "Then we're going to rescue Grandpa."
Fred's voice rang clear. "And break every cursed toy in the process."
Ben's grin sharpened. "Time to sleigh this Christmas takeover."
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