Stolen on Christmas

While the hands of the clock ticked away and the moderate snowstorm continued outside, the howling icy winds battered the old windows of my shop, Winterlight Wonders. Inside, warmth from the enchanted lanterns I’d crafted glowed softly, casting dancing shadows across the shelves crammed with sparkling trinkets. Enchanted snowglobes hummed forgotten carols, shimmering frost-glass ornaments whispered holiday wishes, and charmed bells promised fortune with a single ring. The air smelled faintly of pine and winter spices — a cozy charm I’d conjured long ago to keep customers lingering. But tonight, there were no customers. Just me. I worked steadily at my worn wooden workbench, fingers deftly winding silver thread around a frosted crystal, weaving threads of magic into the charm’s heart. The spell settled into place with a faint shimmer of frost-kissed light — perfect. Another order done. Only a few more to go before midnight. I leaned back with a tired sigh, brushing auburn strands from my face. It was the busiest season of the year, but I didn’t mind the work. It kept my hands busy — kept me busy — and left little time to think about things better left buried. The wind outside shrieked, louder this time, as though clawing to get in. I shivered despite the warmth. A faint unease prickled the back of my neck, but I pushed it aside. Winter storms in Belcina were nothing new. I reached for another crystal, ready to begin the next charm — when the old shop bell jingled faintly behind me. The door hadn’t opened. I stilled, heart skipping a beat. Slowly, I turned, eyes scanning the dimly lit shop. The bell swayed gently on its hook, the chime fading into silence. Nothing. Just the storm outside and the flicker of enchanted lights. Exhaling, I shook my head. I was being paranoid — a side effect of working too many late nights alone. Still, I muttered a soft protection spell under my breath, feeling its magic settle over the room like a light frost. Just in case. I went back to my work, determined to finish before the midnight bells tolled. The wind outside roared again, making the windows tremble. For a moment, I could’ve sworn I heard something else — a faint, melodic chime, low and haunting, drifting through the storm. Before I could process it, the bell rang again. This time, when I turned, someone stood in the doorway. Tall. Dark. Cloaked in shadows. And watching me. "Shop closed," I called firmly, keeping my voice steady despite the icy dread rolling around in my gut. "Come back after the holiday." The figure didn't move. The snow-covered cloak was draped over his broad shoulders, his face concealed in the shadows. I could sense that something was off about him - not just his stillness, but the air that permits from around him. It was humming with dark, electric power, faint but unmistakable. I had never felt anything like it before. My finger twitched towards the ward stone beneath the counter, something I always keep in reach just in case. But I hesitated. Whoever this stranger was, I could tell that he was not a lost traveler seeking shelter from the storm outside. The figure was visiting this shop at this odd hour for something else entirely. Before I could demand the mysterious figure to leave, he stepped forward, boots crunching against the wooden floor board as he moved into the faint glow of the lantern light. Suddenly, my breath hitched in my throat, and I froze. He was strikingly handsome, but there was a dangerous edge to his beauty that set every instinct I had on high alert. His face was angular and elegant, like it had been carved from marble, framed by long, raven-black hair that glistened with snowflakes. Crimson eyes burned from beneath thick lashes, their piercing gaze fixed on me with unnerving intensity. I couldn't look away. It was not only his appearance that kept me frozen in place - it was the way he carried himself. A predator. His every step was powerful and purposeful, every move calculated. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice colder than I felt. For a moment, he didn't respond. His crimson eyes were browsing the shop, lingering on the different trinkets and charms lining the shelves before his eyes finally settled on me. I clenched my fist, forcing my voice to a hardened edge. "I said, we're closed." His lips tilted into something too sharp to be a smile. "I'm not here to shop." “Mina Solace,” he said finally, his voice smooth and deep, like velvet laced with frost. The sound of my name on his lips sent a chill down my spine. I tried to fight back the dread that threatened to consume me. “How do you know my name?” I demanded, stepping back, the counter between us suddenly feeling like a flimsy shield. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, as if he could see through me, past all those walls that I had built. My stomach dropped. He shouldn't know my name. "Who the hell are you?" I snapped, my heart pounding. The storm outside raging louder, the harsh winds causing snow to claw on the window. His eyes softened — almost wistful — though there was still something coldly calculating beneath the crimson glow. "I am Valen Nightthorn," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Lord of Noctis Hollow." The name struck something deep in my mind, something buried in old winter tales told around hearths — stories of a cursed lord, bound by frost and shadow. But that was impossible... He stepped closer. Too close I was still reeling from hearing a name so ancient, steeped in dark winter legends, when his following words sent ice lancing through my veins. "And you, Mina, are my fated mate." The world seemed to tilt at his words. Fated mate. I took a shaky step back, my mind scrambling for an explanation that wasn’t what he’d just said. His name alone had rattled me — Valen Nightthorn, a name whispered in old winter legends of a cursed lord trapped in an eternal frost. I’d dismiss those tales as folklore, distant and harmless. But now...he was here, real and impossibly close. "You’ve got the wrong person," I hissed, forcing steel into my voice despite the pounding of my heart. “I’m not anyone’s mate.” His gaze never wavered, steady and relentless, like he was seeing through me. "You are," he said softly, almost like he regretted the truth. "You’ve always been." “Get out.” I forced my voice to harden. “Now.” His every word was slowly breaking my reality apart and everything that I once believed in. And I refuse to let him take the little normality I have left in my life. His expression darkened, the softness draining from his features like melting frost. "You think I came all this way just to leave empty-handed?" The icy wind outside roared louder, as though answering him, rattling the windows of my shop. My magic stirred in response, frost threading across my fingertips, cold and sharp. I clenched my fists, trying to suppress it, but his eyes flicked to the faint glimmer of ice forming at my side. "You do feel it," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "The frost in your blood...it’s calling to me." "No," I snapped, the frost retreating as fear surged in its place. "Whatever you think this is — whatever game you’re playing — I’m not part of it." The more I deny it the less real this will be. Maybe he will disappear, and I will wake up in the morning and this was just an illusion created in my head from exhaustion. His jaw tightened. "This isn’t a game, Mina." I turned, lunging for the wardstone beneath the counter — my last defense. My fingers brushed its cold surface just as a shadowy tendril lashed out, wrapping around my wrist like living ice. I gasped as the cold bit into my skin, and before I could react, more dark tendrils slithered from the ground, binding my arms and legs. "You don’t understand," Valen said, his voice rough with something that sounded almost like regret. "I have to do this." I struggled against the shadows holding me fast, fury burning hotter than my fear. "Let me go!" I shrieked. His crimson eyes flared, shadows thickening around us like a midnight storm. “I can’t.” With a sweep of his hand, the room dimmed, the warmth of the enchanted lanterns snuffed out as frost coated every surface. A dark, swirling portal opened behind him, shimmering with cold magic. “Please don’t fight this,” he said, softer this time. “It’s already too late.” I thrashed again, magic sparking weakly in my fingertips — but it wasn’t enough. The last thing I saw was his outstretched hand, cold yet strangely gentle, before the shadows consumed us both — and the world shattered into frost and darkness.