Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells (Whispering Pines #8)

Chapter 34

THIRTY-FOUR

E arly morning painted the sky in shades of bruised purple as Briar hurried up the frost-covered path to the Whispering Pines Orphanage. She wanted to check on the children before further preparing for the noontime battle.

The ancient brick building loomed before her, its windows glowing with weak amber light against the gathering gloom. Her boots crunched through a layer of unnatural ice coating the ground, each step releasing puffs of crystalline powder that sparkled with malevolent magic.

Something dark stirred in the air—a presence that made her magic prickle beneath her skin like static before a storm. The enchanted Christmas trees, one inside and one outside, flickered fitfully, their once-bright lights dimming to pale ghosts of their former glory. Even the cheerful holiday garlands adorning the iron gates drooped under a layer of killing frost, their red ribbons bleached white by supernatural cold.

Mrs. Thompson met her at the door, the headmistress’s usual iron composure cracking around the edges. Deep shadows ringed her eyes, a testament to sleepless nights spent watching over her charges. “Thank heavens you’re here.” She wrung her hands, voice dropping to a whisper. “The children... they hear whispers in their dreams. Cruel voices promising terrible things.”

Briar squeezed the older woman’s shoulder, ignoring how her own heart thundered against her ribs. “We won’t let anything happen to them.” The words rang with more confidence than she possessed, but that’s what leadership demanded—projecting strength when others faltered.

Inside, she organized the children into groups for holiday crafts, determined to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Little Sophie hunched over her paper snowflake, scissors trembling as she cut careful patterns. The six-year-old’s usual bright smile had dimmed to a worried frown that made Briar’s chest ache.

Across the room, Tommy—normally the orphanage’s most enthusiastic troublemaker—sat quietly stringing popcorn garlands, his mischievous spark extinguished by fear.

A sudden chill sliced through the room, deeper than mere winter cold. The children’s chatter died mid-sentence, leaving only the hollow whistle of wind through ice-rimmed windows. Outside, storm clouds boiled across the sky with supernatural speed, blotting out what remained of the morning light.

“Everyone away from the windows,” Briar commanded, keeping her tone calm but firm. “Let’s gather in the center of the room.” She counted heads as the children shuffled closer. Twenty-three souls, ranging from toddlers to teens, all looking to her for protection.

The attack came without warning.

Stained glass exploded inward as icy projectiles punched through the windows. Children screamed. Briar’s magic surged instinctively, throwing up a shimmering barrier that caught the deadly shards before they could reach vulnerable flesh. The frozen daggers hung suspended for a heartbeat before dropping harmlessly to the floor.

“Stay together!” She herded the children into a tight circle, positioning herself between them and the advancing threat. Through the broken windows poured creatures of shadow and ice—twisted forms with hollow eyes that fixed hungrily on the failing Christmas tree. Their bodies shifted and reformed like smoke given frozen form, leaving trails of hoarfrost in their wake.

Sweet Sophie buried her face in Briar’s sweater, tiny fingers clutching the soft fabric. “Make them go away,” she pleaded, voice muffled by tears.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Briar stroked the girl’s hair while maintaining the protective shield. “Nobody’s getting past me.”

The main doors burst open, bringing a rush of magical energy that made her shoulders sag with relief. Celeste charged in first, emerald eyes blazing as thick vines erupted through the floorboards to entangle the ice creatures.

“I guess the storm spirit couldn’t wait a few more hours,” Celeste said.

Daisy followed, her bright pink hair a shock of color against the grayness as she summoned spectral guardians that glowed with otherworldly light.

Ellie’s flames danced between her fingers as she took up position near the children, while Tabitha’s battle potions clinked ominously at her belt. Their shifter partners moved with practiced coordination—Kade’s massive wolf form taking point while Bram’s bear bulk guarded their flank. Even Jasper’s ghostly form provided tactical advantage, passing through walls to scout enemy positions.

“They’re targeting the tree,” Briar called out over the chaos. “If it falls, the orphanage’s protective wards fall with it!”

“Not happening,” Celeste growled, her magic turning the orphanage’s decorative potted plants into thorny weapons.

The battle transformed the once-peaceful hall into magical mayhem. Spells crackled through the air like bottled lightning. Ice shattered against shields. Children huddled closer as Briar split her focus between maintaining their protection and launching her own attacks.

Heat suddenly rolled through the room as a massive shape darkened the broken windows. Dragon fire melted waves of ice creatures, and Falkor burst through the opening in human form, landing in a graceful crouch beside her.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Briar called out.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” he said, golden eyes scanning the room for threats.

Before he could continue, Sophie screamed. The protective barrier flickered, weakening under the relentless assault. Cracks spread like spider webs through the magical shield. Beyond it, a new wave of ice creatures surged forward, their forms larger and more monstrous than before.

Morganna’s cruel laugh echoed through the hall. “How touching. My son playing protector to a bunch of orphans.” Her spirit materialized near the Christmas tree, frost spreading from her ethereal feet. “Always so desperate to save everyone except yourself.”