Chapter 1
Snow blanketed the streets in a pristine hush, muffling the distant crash of waves against jagged cliffs. River De Clairmont stood by the frosted window of his ocean side manor. His breath clouded the chilled French villa style pane. The room, bathed in the warm amber glow of coals in an almost dead fire. Even here by the ocean it got cold at night. Even when the days were warm.
The manor’s grandeur felt hollow tonight, the opulent furnishings and gilded ornaments mere spectators to his solitary vigil. Cream-colored curtains billowed softly in the draft, whispering like ghosts of the past. River’s silver-blue eyes, turbulent as the sea he was born to, mirrored the moonlight.
For weeks now, sleep had been his enemy. When he closed his eyes, nightmares clawed their way into his mind with sharp teeth. Fractured images of Ashlinn, bound and bleeding, her hair dimmed to a dull ember under the cruel hands of the Golden Ells. He could still hear her voice, defiant and sharp, cutting through the haze of fear like a knife, but then the scene always shifted. Each time he woke up gasping for air, the sheets clinging to his sweat-slicked skin like shackles, the shadows in the room seemed to press closer. He stares at his wife in her sleep for hours. Just to make sure she won’t vanish.
Tonight, for the first time in weeks. it felt both intimate and vast. His own personal paradox of opulence and isolation. Cream-colored curtains swayed faintly with the icy breeze sneaking through the cracked window, carrying with it the briny tang of the sea and the faint metallic nip of winter frost.
The swirling silver-blue of River’s eyes caught the faint moonlight, reflecting its cold luminant sheen. Yet beneath their surface, storms raged: grief, guilt, and an unspoken yearning he couldn’t name. His chest felt tight, as if the weight of the past weeks had lodged itself like a stone where his heart should be.
The memories were sharper than he’d like. His father’s voice, deep and commanding, was now a ghost in his mind, haunting the halls of this manor as much as River himself. The old man had been more siren than father, but even so, his passing had left a hollow ache. His own mother blamed him even. No one blamed River, as much as himself.
Ashlinn...
Ashlinn had suffered too. Her fiery spirit hadn’t fully dimmed as much as his own. Despite the ordeal of her kidnapping by the Golden Ells, it had left shadows in her gaze, shadows River recognized all too well.
He drained the goblet of blood he had been drinking, the liquid scalding his throat in a way that didn’t quite reach his core. It was easier to focus on the blood effects, the fire, the cold breeze against his face; anything but the deeper wounds. He hadn’t told Ashlinn about his sleepless nights, about the dark dreams that tangled his soul in barbs. She’d been through enough.He would bear this alone.
River’s opalescent skin shimmered faintly in the light, the trait of his merfolk heritage that he couldn’t suppress, no matter how deeply he buried his connection to the sea. Tonight, it seemed even his body betrayed him, catching the light like ripples over still water. His lineage was a story of sacrifice: his parents had traded the rarest pearls to demons for the elixir that brought him to life. They had once stolen from Hades and now?
Now, even to this day hundreds of years later, he was a bridge between two worlds, neither entirely home nor entirely lost.
Tonight wasn’t about brooding, though. River straightened, his fingers lingering on the edge of the small, emerald-green box tied with a silver ribbon. It was jeweled and had his clan sigil on it.The gift was modest by the standards of the manor but crafted with deliberate care. Inside, a delicate surprise lay.
Would he ever truly make up for his failures, especially around the holidays, when wounds always felt rawer?
The manor door groaned as River stepped out into the night. He was in an all white suit with little pink accents to carry Ashlinn with him. She would join soon after, or maybe stay home. River wasn’t going to push. Here it was delightfully warm and in full summer. However when he used the portal to get to Dead-City?
It was a blanket of snow that kissed down on him with the laughter of the seasons.
Snow crunched beneath his polished dress shoes, the sound crisp and satisfying. The air smelled of pine and woodsmoke, mingling with the sugary aroma of roasted chestnuts wafting from the city square. Against the bright lights, each flake glinting like powdered diamond under the silvery light of the full moon. The city lay before him, its rooftops laden with snow and lamplights casting warm, golden glow across the streets.
The city square was alive with quiet cheer. The towering Christmas tree stood at its center, its boughs heavy with glittering ornaments and twinkling lights that cast playful reflections on the snow below. Families bustled about, their laughter rising like music above the soft murmur of conversation. Carolers sang in harmonious unison, their voices carrying the promise of peace through the frosty night. His breath hung in clouds as he walked toward the towering Christmas tree, its ornaments sparkling like stars against the velvety dark of the night.
He began to sing his own song. River, by his very nature, could read minds and see other’s soul’s when they sang. He could also emit fear, joy, pleasure or pain with a song. Tonight it was about joy.
“There’s no snow in Australia,
And the weather’s always fine,
We celebrate Christmas
In the summertime.
With the gum trees and the kangaroos,
And the kookaburras’ song,
Christmas in Australia,
It’s where we all belong.”
As River approached the tree, his gift tucked securely under one arm. His words could be felt by those around him and joy began to spill about.
Each step felt like a small victory. He knelt to place his gift beneath the towering pine, his hands brushing the snow-dusted ground. For a moment, he lingered, his eyes tracing the silver ribbon with a mix of hope and trepidation. This simple act, offering a gift, felt like a step toward redemption.
“- Christmas where the gum trees grow,
There is no frost and there is no snow,
But we’ve got the sun and the sand and the sea,
And that’s how Christmas should be.
-
Down by the billabong,
Where the water lilies bloom,
We gather round the table,
In our cozy little room.”
River picks out a small, unassuming box from under the tree. The wrapping is a mix of bright orange paper with quirky black polka dots, and the ribbon is a mismatched, slightly frayed red. There’s a tiny, hand-drawn doodle of a crow on the tag. He always found the thoughtful gifts came out best.
As he straightened, River allowed himself to scan the crowd. Familiar faces greeted him with warm smiles, and he returned them with his own in this inner turmoil it was a practiced expression, warm yet reserved. He exchanged pleasantries, his voice calm and steady, though his heart still carried the weight of his recent trials.
The soft glow of the festivities, the laughter of children playing in the snow, the gentle hum of a world unbroken by his burdens: it all felt distant, like a dream he could only observe but never touch. He even noticed his niece running around her parents and little brother in a stroller. They seemed busy, he, and Ashlinn would join them later.
“ With the ham and the prawns and the Christmas cheer,
And the Aussie Christmas tree,
Oh, Christmas in Australia,
Is a celebration for you and me.
Christmas where the gum trees grow,
There is no frost and there is no snow,
But we’ve got the sun and the sand and the sea,
And that’s how Christmas should be.”
There was something healing in the act of being here. In the snow that clung to his shoes, in the delicate crackling of ice underfoot, in the gentle glow of lantern light on his skin: each detail rooted him to the moment. River allowed himself to linger by the tree, watching as others placed their gifts, their eyes sparkling with the same quiet anticipation that danced in the air.
Though his nightmares would return, though his heart still ached with the unspoken weight of his failures, River made a choice tonight. He chose to embrace this fleeting reprieve, to let the spirit of the holidays seep into the cracks of his battered soul. For this one night, he would let the warmth of the season thaw the cold within him. And maybe, just maybe,it would be enough to keep the darkness at bay.
“With the ham and the prawns and the Christmas cheer,
And the Aussie Christmas tree,
Oh, Christmas in Australia,
Is a celebration for you and me.
Christmas where the gum trees grow,
There is no frost and there is no snow,
But we’ve got the sun and the sand and the sea,
And that’s how Christmas should be.”
River walked casually over to the spiked eggnog station, his steps light despite the busy holiday buzz around him. His fingers still slightly chilled from the cold air outside. The festive atmosphere was filled with the warm, spiced scent of traditional eggnog, but there was a certain richness to the air tonight, a darker edge that only a few would dare to savor. The eggnog here wasn’t just any ordinary drink…
It was spiked with the blood of shadow creatures, giving it an addicting deep crimson hue that gave the eggnog a velvet texture and a taste that was both sweet and tangy, with hints of iron and something more...
The rich blood from nightstalkers: creatures who roamed the quiet hours of the full moon; was the key ingredient, a once a year concoction known only to those who thrived in the dark. River stood in line, watching the steam rise from the mugs, the subtle shiver of anticipation flickering in his gaze. When his turn finally came, he ordered two mugs , keeping his new gift under an arm, both filled with the spiced eggnog, its blood-soaked richness perfect for creatures like blood demons and vampires, a decadent treat that hummed with life and hunger alike. He would meet up with Ashlinn, his beloved and some great nog.
“ So let’s raise a glass and sing with joy,
For the spirit of Christmas is here,
With the gum trees, the sun, and the joy we share,
It’s the best time of the year!
Christmas where the gum trees grow,
There is no frost and there is no snow,
But we’ve got the sun and the sand and the sea,
And that’s how Christmas should be.”
Part one - River De Clairmont Robs Water Demon.
