Snow crunched beneath their boots as Lucien and Holly made their way back toward the cottage. The reindeer shed's laughter and warmth still clung to them, their clothes flecked with bits of hay and the faint smell of pine resin. The air was brisk, filled with a tingling chill that stung Lucien's nose, yet he felt alive—energized even.
He tugged his scarf tighter around his neck, watching his breath curl into white puffs against the indigo twilight. "Holly," he said after a moment of quiet, his tone tentative, "have you ever… been to Santa's workshop?"
Holly blinked, brushing stray hay from her golden-green tunic. "Me? No," she admitted with a tiny chuckle. "I'm not that special. Only a handful of elves get to go there regularly, mostly the senior workers. The rest of us? We dream about it." She gave a wistful sigh, her pointed ears twitching slightly. "But one day, after I finish my time at the cottage, I'm going to apply. Once you pass your first calendar year here, you're considered grown enough to take a real task."
Lucien tilted his head. "A calendar year? So… I have to wait all the way until next Christmas before I can try too?"
"That's right," Holly replied, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Until then, we stay in the cottage, learn, and… mess up the kitchens."
Lucien groaned. "You're never letting me live that down, are you?"
"Nope." She grinned mischievously, bumping her shoulder against his. "But hey, I'll admit—your porridge disaster had style."
They laughed together, the sound bright in the quiet snowy street. Lucien felt oddly grateful. This strange elf girl had somehow made this impossible place feel less overwhelming.
After a beat, Lucien asked, "So… what do they even do in Santa's workshop? I mean, besides the toy-making part that everyone talks about."
"Oh, it's more than just toys," Holly explained, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she listed them off on her fingers. "There are the Toymakers, of course—the most important of all, since they craft joy itself. Then you've got the Reindeer Handlers, who raise and guide the flying reindeer before their Christmas flight. There are the List Keepers—the elves who manage Santa's Nice and Naughty lists. That's a really serious role, and usually given to older elves who've earned Santa's full trust. And then… there's Tech Support."
Lucien blinked. "…Tech Support? For Santa?"
"Yes!" Holly said firmly, as if he had just questioned something obvious. "Do you think those sleighs run themselves? Or that the tracking systems for gifts just appear out of thin air? Elves have to keep the whole operation running smoothly!"
Lucien snorted with laughter, half imagining some elf in spectacles yelling at a sleigh engine with a wrench. "So… which one do you want to be?"
Holly hesitated, her eyes drifting upward toward the endless glow of the twilight sky. "I don't know," she admitted softly. "The reindeer are fun… so warm and lively. But Toymaking… that's every elf's dream, isn't it? To know that something you built with your hands ends up in the arms of a child across the world. That your work spreads happiness… That's magical."
Lucien stared at her profile, her eyes glowing faintly in the light of the snow lamps. A small pang tugged at his chest.
Maybe toy making was magic.
"Yeah," he murmured. "It sounds… beautiful."
They fell into companionable silence, the crunch of their steps keeping rhythm with the gentle fall of snow. Soon, the warm glow of the cottage windows came into view, spilling amber light across the frosty path.
Inside, laughter echoed.
When Lucien and Holly pushed the door open, they were greeted by a sight that stopped him cold. The common hall was transformed.
A tall Christmas tree stood near the fireplace, decorated with glowing baubles and strands of silver tinsel that shimmered like icicles. Candles floated midair, flickering softly, while garlands of evergreen wrapped around the beams of the hall. Beneath the tree sat plates of cookies and mugs of steaming milk, and around it—gathered like family—were the other young elves.
Finn was laughing too loudly at something Christopher had said, while Aurora sat nearby polishing a bauble with delicate care. Bell was curled up in a chair, arms crossed, pretending not to enjoy herself though her twitching smile betrayed her. Eve sat close to the fire, her face calm, almost ethereal in the glow. Holly gasped softly at the sight, her eyes wide with delight.
Christopher spotted them first. "Well, well," he smirked, waving a cookie. "Look who finally returned from a date with the reindeer."
Holly flushed scarlet. "It wasn't a date!" she sputtered, flailing her arms as Finn nearly choked on his milk from laughing.
Lucien, equally red, tried to protest. "We were just—!"
But Aurora quickly cut in, her voice smooth and amused. "Don't bother. Christopher will tease you no matter what you say."
"Exactly," Christopher said smugly, biting into his cookie.
Lucien rolled his eyes but couldn't help chuckling. Despite the embarrassment, the warmth of the scene wrapped around him like a blanket. For the first time in a long time—perhaps since his life before—he felt like he truly belonged somewhere.
They all sat together, passing plates, sipping warm milk, and sharing little stories. Bell muttered about how cold it was outside, which prompted Christopher to boast about how he once wrestled a snow wolf (though no one believed him). Finn glanced at Noelle's absence and sulked quietly, which made Lucien smirk knowingly.
The flames crackled in the hearth, filling the room with a gentle glow. Holly leaned back, smiling at Lucien as though to say, See? This is what Christmas is about.
And for once, Lucien didn't feel the gnawing ache of what he had lost. He didn't feel the emptiness of his fading memories. He just felt… here.
As the laughter swelled, he closed his eyes briefly, whispering a thought only to himself.
If this is Christmas Eve in this strange new world… maybe it's not so bad to have been reborn after all.
The tree's lights shimmered. The fire danced. And the cottage, filled with warmth and joy, embraced him in the heart of Christmas Eve.