Santa Daddy, I’m Not the One

11

NILS

T he light from the bedside lamp cast a warm but insufficient glow over Landon’s still form in my bed, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Two days had passed since he’d collapsed in the field, and my heart had been lodged in my throat for every agonizing minute of it. A few times, he’d briefly stirred, long enough to sip a little soup, but then he’d slipped back into a deep unconsciousness that left me fearing the worst.

The doctor, a wise elf named Oren who had been tending to the well-being of our community for centuries, stood by the bedside, his face a mask of professional concern. He had just finished another examination, and I watched him, eager for any shred of good news, any sign that Landon would pull through.

“I don’t understand it,” Oren finally said, his voice low and troubled. “Physically, he seems perfectly fine. There’s no reason for him to be in this state.”

I paced the length of the room. “Check again.” I couldn’t hide the desperation in my voice. “There has to be something. People don’t just fall unconscious without a reason.”

Oren’s old eyes filled with a compassion that did nothing to ease my worry. “I’ve checked him over several times, Nils. I wish I had better answers for you.”

I stopped pacing and looked down at Landon, lying so pale and still against the white sheets. His face, usually so full of expression and defiance, was now a blank canvas, his eyelids shut tight against the world. I reached out, my hand trembling slightly, and brushed back a lock of hair from his forehead. Why did he feel so cold?

“Then what do we do?” A feeling of helplessness engulfed me. “I can’t just stand here and do nothing while he’s like this.”

“We keep him comfortable, make sure he stays hydrated and nourished. And we hope that whatever has taken hold of him passes soon.”

I nodded, though the suggestion offered little comfort. Hope felt like a fragile thing in the face of Landon’s mysterious condition. I turned to Oren. “Stay with him for a while. I need to attend to something.”

Without waiting for a response, I strode out of the room, my mind racing. Inside me, a restlessness bubbled, a gnawing need to do something, anything, to help Landon. I walked through the corridors of the workshop, elves, stepping aside to let me pass.

My steps led me, almost without thought, to the records room. Maybe there was something in the ancient texts, some forgotten piece of lore that could explain what was happening to Landon, something that could point the way to a cure. The room was dark, the air thick with the smell of old paper and ink. I lit a lamp, pulled down volume after volume, and scanned the pages frantically for any mention of symptoms like Landon’s or any malady that struck without warning and left its victims in a state like death.

Hours passed, and the pile of discarded books grew higher. My eyes burned from strain and the dim light, but I pressed on, driven by a single-minded determination. Landon was depending on me, even if he didn’t know it. I couldn’t let him down.

As I reached for another heavy tome, a sharp knock startled me. My heart pounded with hope. Had there been a change? Had Landon woken up?

I hurried to the door and opened it.

Eirik stood in the doorway, his face grave. “You need to come quickly. It’s Landon.”

Without a word, I followed him back to my room, my fear threatening to choke me. Landon was still unconscious, but Oren was standing by the bed, his expression more troubled than before.

“What is it? What’s happened?” I demanded.

“It’s his heart,” Oren said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s beating irregularly, too fast, then too slow. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I moved to Landon’s side and took his hand, the erratic pulse throbbing against my fingers. A cold dread settled in my stomach. This was beyond anything we had faced before, beyond the healing knowledge of our best doctor.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Hope.”

But hope was becoming a bitter taste on my tongue. Landon’s life hung in the balance, and all we could do was hope?

Oren left, and I sat on the bed. The sight of his ashen face stabbed me like a knife twisting in my gut.

“Landon, can you hear me?” I asked.

Still no response. Time sped by, and I dozed off. A knock on the door woke me up. I looked at Landon, but he seemed the same.

“Come in,” I said in a gravelly voice.

Eirik entered, his face troubled. He glanced at Landon, then to me. “Is he…”

“Still the same. What is it?”

“A blizzard blew through the town.”

I frowned. Impossible. Unless…

“The tree?”

“Drying up. No one wants to come out of their homes. Everyone’s scared.”

I took up Landon’s hand, kissed the back of it, then placed it on the bed. “I’ll see what’s happening. Stay with him. I don’t want him to be alone if he wakes up.”

I took the sleigh and raced against the biting wind toward the town square where the ancient tree stood. As the sleigh cut through the icy air, the severity of the situation below unfolded before me. The blizzard had spared nothing in its path—houses were buried under mounds of snow, and the once lively streets of Twinkle Glen were deserted, an eerie silence hanging over them. The storm had indeed been brutal, and the dimming of the tree seemed to have taken away not just the light but also the spirit of the town.

The Eternal Tree stood in the center of the square, its usual vibrant glow reduced to a mere flicker, the branches drooping in despair, a stark reminder of the grim reality we were facing. A knot of fear tightened in my chest as I landed the sleigh.

I stepped out, my boots sinking into the thick snow. A cold gust of wind whipped at my face, but I ignored it, my mind preoccupied with the crisis at hand. As I approached the tree, my heart sank further with each step. Its once lustrous needles were now brittle and gray, a stark contrast to the healthy green it used to boast.

I couldn’t let this be the end of Twinkle Glen, the place I’d called home for centuries. I couldn’t let it be the end of us.

Turning away from the tree, I trudged to the nearest house, and knocked firmly on the door. A frightened face peeked out, but relief flooded their features when they recognized me.

“Santa,” they whispered.

I offered a grim nod. “Gather everyone you can. We’re opening the great hall. It will be a shelter for anyone who has lost their home or needs warmth. There will be food for all.”

Word spread quickly, as it always did in small communities. Elves and the few humans who lived among us made their way through the snow, some helping others who were less able to navigate the thick drifts. Together, we worked to clear a path to the great hall, the large, sturdy building that had stood at the heart of Twinkle Glen for as long as anyone could remember.

Once inside, the elves stoked the fires, their glow offering a beacon of hope in the storm. Blankets were distributed, and the kitchen was set into motion. Soon, the scent of baking bread and brewing tea filled the air.

I moved among the people, offering words of comfort and reassurance, though I felt none of it within me. My mind was with Landon, lying unconscious in my bed, and with the tree, the soul of our town, dying outside.

As the last of the residents settled in, I stepped back outside, where the storm was now reduced to a gentle flurry. I looked up at the sky, but the stars were obscured by lingering clouds. I prayed, a plea for guidance, for a solution, for anything that could save us from the darkness that threatened to engulf us all.

With my heart heavy, I directed the reindeer over the ground, choosing to return to the workshop via the snow-covered paths instead of through the air. The rhythmic clop of their hooves and the hiss of the sleigh cutting through the fresh snow offered no comfort, only a dull backdrop to my racing thoughts.

As we rounded a bend, a figure appeared on the path, a dark silhouette against the white landscape. I brought the reindeer to a halt, their breaths white puffs as they snorted uneasily. The figure stepped forward, and even in the dim light, I recognized the imposing presence of Frostheart. My hand instinctively went to the large candy cane at the side of the sleigh. It looked like an oversized replica of the small candy canes people hang in their Christmas trees, but in my hand, it was easily transformed into a sword.

Frostheart raised a hand. “I’m not here to fight,” he said, his voice as cold and emotionless as ever.

I eyed him warily, every instinct screaming caution. “Then what do you want?”

“How is your human?” Frostheart asked, almost casual if not for the undercurrent of something darker.

Anger flared within me, white-hot and fierce. It was him. It had to be. He was the reason for Landon’s condition. I leaped from the sleigh, the snow crunching under my boots as I closed the distance between us and grabbed him by the collar. “What did you do to him?” I demanded, barely containing my rage. When he didn’t put up a fight, I knew he had the upper hand.

Frostheart looked down at my hands, then back up at me, unfazed. “Nothing too terrible. Just a little ice to the heart. But you can save him, Santa. All he needs to do is touch the tree. Take the tree’s warmth into him.”

I tightened my grip on his collar. “That’s impossible. If he touches the tree, it will die.”

Frostheart’s cruel smile widened. “Sounds like you have a tough decision to make. What do you care about more, Santa? The boy or the tree?”

I released him, stepping back as if burned. The implication of his words cut deeper than any physical wound could. A choice between Landon and the very essence of Twinkle Glen. How could I choose?

With a sinister laugh, Frostheart faded back into the shadows of the trees, leaving me alone with my turmoil. I stood there for a long time, the snow falling gently around me, the quiet of the forest a stark contrast to the storm inside me.

What I felt for Landon was strong, a deep bond that had formed so unexpectedly. But could I sacrifice the tree, the heart of our world, for him? Was there no other way?

With a heavy heart, I returned to the sleigh and set off once more, the questions plaguing me with every mile. The familiar sight of the workshop offered no solace. I needed answers, and I needed them fast. Landon’s life depended on it, as did the future of Twinkle Glen.

I left the sleigh and the reindeer in the caring hands of the elf in the stable, then hurried back to my bedroom. Eirik greeted me outside. My stomach dropped.

“Landon. How is he?”

He smiled widely. “As good as new. He woke up and was hungry. Ate two bowls of soup, then took a bath.”

“Is this true?”

“Go see for yourself.”

I slipped into the room, my heart hammering, half-afraid to believe Eirik’s words. The sight that greeted me washed away all my doubts and fears. Landon was on his feet, pacing the room with an energy and vibrancy that had been missing for days. Color had returned to his cheeks, flushing them with life and warmth. As I entered, he turned, a smile breaking across his face that lit up the room.

“How are you feeling?” I ran over to him, my words tumbling out in a relieved rush.

“I feel great, actually. A bit hungry still, but otherwise, I’m okay,” Landon said, his voice strong and clear. “Was I terribly sick?”

“Yes. I couldn’t find out what was wrong with you.” Unable to help myself, I pulled him into a tight embrace, reveling in the solid reality of him, alive and well.

“You’re squishing me, Daddy.”

“Sorry.” But I didn’t loosen my grip. “Please bear it for a while. Lan, I was so worried about you. When you collapsed, I didn’t know what to do. I thought I might lose you.”

He returned the hug, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m okay now.”

As we pulled apart, I studied his face, looking for any lingering signs of his ordeal. “The day you ended up in the stable. Can you remember anything that happened the night before that? How did you find your way back?”

Landon shook his head, furrowing his brow in concentration. “No, it’s all a blur. I remember feeling intense pain, and then darkness descended. When I woke up, I was lying on that…cloak, right?”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral to hide the churn of emotions and thoughts inside me. The mention of the cloak reminded me of bumping into Frostheart, the sinister threat he posed, and the impossible choice he’d laid at my feet. But I couldn’t burden Landon with that, not when he’d just recovered.

Instead, I smiled, basking in the moment of relief and happiness. “It’s fine. We’ll take it easy for a while, get you fully recovered.”

Landon nodded, his smile faltering slightly as if sensing there was something I wasn’t telling him. But he didn’t press, and I was grateful for it. There would be time for hard truths and difficult decisions, but for now, I wanted to enjoy the simple joy of having him back, healthy and alive.