“This is so embarrassing,” said Jack, shutting the door to the SUV. “He’s just going to tell us to get deodorant or some shit.”

“Look, Jack, if it’s nothing, great, and if it’s something serious, at least we’ll have someone helping us,” said Pandora. “Now…I just hope he’s home.”

Pandora locked up her flying SUV, which she’d flown from The North Pole down to Camp Kringle that morning. Pandora walked with Jack up to the sizeable imposing cabin on Camp Kringle, the only island of the lake known as The Wreath. The island was in the dead center of the round lake, which made the lake wreath-shaped, hence its name. The town of The Wreath was wrapped around the lake, like a wreath…and around that town, there was one last wreath — a forest, also named The Wreath.

It was an unfortunate and confusing naming system, so of course, it had never been changed.

Pandora knocked on Krampus’ door.

“Coming!” shouted Krampus. Pandora waited. Soon, Krampus came over to open the door.

“Pandora?” asked Krampus. “Jack? What the fuck are you two doing here?”

“We, uh…needed some advice,” said Pandora. “Can we come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Krampus. “What’s going on?”

“Before I tell you…can you promise to not tell my father what’s going on?” asked Pandora.

“Sure,” said Krampus. “I won’t tell Santana anything.”

Pandora and Jack followed Krampus into the cabin. There was a tiny nook with a couch, a coffee table, and some worn armchairs. They took seats, and Krampus brought over an empty tea tray and put it on the coffee table.

“Give me a second,” said Krampus. He pulled his phone out and started texting.

“Who’re you texting?” asked Jack.

“Avery — watch what happens,” said Krampus. In about two minutes, a bunch of pastries and three cups of Christmas tea popped up on the tray, complete with plates and saucers.

“Okay, that was freaky-deaky,” said Pandora. “What the heck was that?”

“We have a pair of magical teleportation powered trays so I can place an order from here, and she just sends the goods right on over by placing them on the tray she has in the bakery, across the lake,” said Krampus. “It’s like email, for food.”

“So instead of making your bad boy lumberjacks row across the lake every day to get you your coffee and pastries…you could’ve just used a magical tray system this whole time?” asked Jack, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t have had an excuse to see her every day, numbnuts,” said Krampus. “I have a feeling you’re not here to talk about my romance with my wife.”

“I mean…we kinda are,” said Pandora. “Jack and I…we’re fated mates.”

“Obviously,” said Krampus, sipping his tea. “When did that happen?”

“Excuse me?” asked Pandora.

“December twelfth,” answered Jack.

“Shit,” said Krampus. “Guess Avery won the pool on that. I thought it was going to happen on December first. Way to slack off.”

“Okay, number one — eww,” said Pandora. “Number two — even though I’m perved out about your betting pool…maybe that is relevant to the situation.”

“Explain,” said Krampus.

“I’m trying to!” hissed Pandora. “Anyway. Ever since we claimed each other, we’ve noticed that Jack’s been very…sweaty.”

“That usually happens when you mate,” said Krampus. “Well, it does if you’re doing it right.”

“This isn’t just isolated to the bedroom,” said Pandora. “He’s always sweating now.”

“Maybe he’s just really in love with you?” asked Krampus. “That can make a lad nervous.”

“Okay, so then why haven’t I been super sweaty for the last, like, decade or so?” asked Jack.

“Fair point,” admitted Krampus.

“It’s been getting…worse,” said Pandora. “Look.”

Pandora lifted up Jack’s shirt, exposing his firm abs which were covered in a glossy sheen. She wiped her hand on the abs and flicked her hand, causing droplets of water to fly into the air.

“Okay, one — gross,” said Krampus. “Two — Jack, do you mind if I…?” Krampus gestured toward his hand.

“Whatever you need to do,” said Jack, nodding his head.

Krampus pressed his hand onto Jack. Jack was wet, but, he wasn’t hot. He was still ice cold.

“There’s more,” said Pandora. “Jack?”

Jack turned around, exposing his back to Krampus. On his back, there were scratch marks, deep ones.

“What did this to you?” asked Krampus.

“Uh…me, but they weren’t that deep yesterday,” said Pandora. “They just keep getting deeper on their own, some kind of magical wounds, and they keep filling with that cold water. We tried wiping it up, putting bandages on it…but, it didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, alright,” said Krampus, pulling his phone out to text someone.

“More pastries?” asked Pandora, looking at the still relatively full tray of goodies.

“Uh…not exactly,” said Krampus. “Anyway. Look. I don’t have an answer for you two. But, I know who might.”

“Who?” asked Pandora.

Krampus’ doorbell rang.

“Well, speak of the devil…” started Krampus, getting up to answer the door.

Across the lake, Avery was baking red velvet cupcakes.

On Krampus’ porch, there was a man in a blue velvet tracksuit. He followed Krampus into the cabin.

“Oh no,” said Jack. “Shit. I thought you weren’t going to tell our parents what was going on.”

“First of all, I only agreed not to tell Santana what was going on. Learn to make better deals when dealing with devils. Secondly, I texted your father because he can help,” said Krampus. “Sometimes, you need your parents’ help. I know, I know, radical thought.”

“Hey, dad,” said Jack awkwardly.

“I’m not here as your father — I’m here as a scientist,” said Boreas. “Now, as your father, I love you, and I’m going to do whatever I can to help you, Jack. As a scientist, I need to know what’s going on, or else I can’t help you figure out what’s happening.”

“Uh…so, Pandora and I finally, you know,” started Jack, blushing.

“Had sex,” said Boreas. “Okay.”

“I’m her fated mate, and she’s my fated mate,” said Jack. “After that, I started…sweating. Is that normal, for ice elementals?”

“Yes and no,” said Boreas. “I think we’re less sweaty than most, but you, Jack…you’re special. You’ve never been one to perspire. Stand up.”

“What?” asked Jack. Boreas raised an eyebrow, and Jack stood up.

“Let’s see,” said Boreas, examining the chair Jack had been sitting on. There was a big wet Jack shaped stain on it. He put his hand on the stain.

“It’s ice cold,” said Boreas. “It’s not sweat — couldn’t be. It’s ice water.”

“How do you know it’s not sweat?” asked Krampus.

“Because sweat is salt water, and pure ice water is fresh water, without much salt in at all, and they react differently to magic,” said Jack, and Boreas gave Jack an approving nod. “What? Sometimes, I do listen, dad.”

“Krampus…if I recall, you had a similar issue a few years ago,” said Boreas. “You started…shedding.”

“Shedding?” asked Pandora.

“I started leaking straw,” said Krampus, crossing his arms. “But, that stopped when I claimed my fated mate, Avery. Why would this start when Jack and Pandora claimed one another?”

“Because this isn’t related to sex at all,” said Boreas. “If anything, claiming a mate would’ve given Jack power, instead of leeching it away. This is about magic.”

“I don’t follow,” said Pandora.

“Pandora, what do you know of the inner workings of magic?” asked Boreas.

“Honestly…not much,” said Pandora. “I mostly focus on doing day-to-day stuff around The Workshop.”

“Well, all magic runs on one simple system — belief,” said Boreas. “When you believe in yourself, you can do fantastic things. When many beings believe in things, magical things can happen.”

“Okay, well, I knew that,” said Pandora with a huff. “It’s what powers Christmas magic.”

“It’s also what powers elemental magic,” said Boreas. “Why is Christmas magic so powerful?”

“Because…people believe in it, the magic of Christmas,” said Pandora.

“And how many beings believe in the magic of ice elementals?” asked Boreas.

“I…I don’t know,” admitted Pandora. “I mean, obviously, everyone at The North Pole and The South Pole believes in it, but…”

“Over the centuries, I have dedicated myself to maintaining the cycles of ice, around the globe,” said Boreas. “I’ve done my job efficiently, precisely, to the point that the humans no longer believe in magic. They only believe in what they call science, what we know to be magic. It’s ironic. The better I did my job…”

“…The less they believed in you,” said Krampus.

“Precisely,” said Boreas.

“So what does that have to do with Jack?” asked Pandora. “Why aren’t you and the other elementals melting?”

“Because we’re not made of magic,” said Boreas. “We just are magic.”

“What…what are you saying?” asked Jack. “What do you mean?”

“Jack…you’ve never been normal. You’re my son, a son without a mother, but…you’re not adopted like Santana adopted Pandora. You were made by me, with no help from another,” said Boreas.

“I know that. We all know that. Why are you bringing this up?” asked Jack. “You’re my father, Boreas.”

“I mean…not biologically,” said Boreas. “I built you…out of ice. You’re kept alive by ice elemental magic, which has been used to ensure that all your systems, which mimic biological systems, function. Technically, you’re a magical construct.”

“I know all that. I don’t care. You’re still my dad. What does that have to do with me melting?” asked Jack.

“Oh,” said Krampus. “Oh no.”

“What?” asked Jack.

“Well…if all magic runs on belief…and you’re powered by ice magic…and basically nobody believes in ice magic…” started Krampus.

“Then I’ll melt,” whispered Jack. “Because with no magic to power me, I’ll just turn back into ice.”

“The only reason I didn’t turn back into straw was that I’d claimed my mate, stopping me from entering ‘mate madness’ – a reversion to my straw goat state,” said Krampus. “But, what brought me to life was demoncraft and Christmas magic, so I was never in danger of turning into straw due to some type of magic waning. You…have the opposite problem. You’ve claimed your mate, but, the magic that originally brought you into being, well, it’s fading. Fate’s magic is not enough to keep you alive, Jack…because nobody believes in the ice elementals.”

Krampus stirred his tea and paused.

“It’s like that old story, The Matchstick Girl, where the young girl freezes to death at Christmas…but instead, you’re melting,” said Krampus with a sigh. “That story didn’t have a happy ending…but maybe a Christmas angel could solve the problem, even if this Christmas demon can’t. It’d take a Christmas miracle, but…’tis the season.”

“Wait…what are you all saying?” asked Pandora. “All we have to do to save Jack is get everyone to believe in the ice elementals again!”

“If there was a way to do that, don’t you think I would’ve done it?” asked Boreas. “There’s…no way that we can stop this. How can we get enough people to believe in our magic?”

“So what, you’re just going to let Jack melt?” asked Pandora, tears in her eyes.

“No — I’m going to freeze him, mechanically and magically,” said Boreas. “Your father has mechanical, non-magical freezers. We’ll keep him in there until we find a solution. Cryogenic freezing. The humans do it. It’s like the opposite of The Matchstick Girl – freezing Jack might just save his life. I can’t freeze time – but I can freeze Jack.”

“Have the humans ever brought someone back from it?” asked Pandora.

Boreas’ silence spoke volumes.

“So you’re going to potentially kill him, to try and save him?” asked Pandora. “You can’t do this!”

“No — but I can,” said Jack.

“Jack! Don’t!” cried Pandora. “We can solve this!”

“No, ‘we’ can’t,” said Jack. “But you…I think you can. Just try not to take too long, babe. I’ll be missing you.”

“How long do you have?” asked Pandora.

“According to the calculations done down South…the ice magic is going to run out on midnight, Christmas Eve,” said Boreas. “By the time midnight passes and Christmas Day begins…the magic will have run out. I didn’t mention anything before because, well, I thought we’d have more time…and I thought that we’d find a solution down South. Even if I’d told you earlier, Jack would still be melting — but at least then, I could’ve enlisted your help in finding a solution. My own hubris did me in. Right now, we have to focus on the solution, not the problem — although my only solution is a temporary solution. We need to freeze Jack tomorrow morning at the latest because the magic will be winding down into nothingness. I don’t want him to turn into a pile of sentient slush.”

“And then what will happen?” asked Pandora. “After the clock strikes midnight?”

“Everything will change,” said Boreas, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder.