The cold North Pole air bit at their faces, but for Roger, Milo, and Santa, it was a welcome relief from the chaos of the cave. They had barely managed to rise from the snow when the sound of approaching sleigh bells cut through the quiet morning. A team of Santa's rescue elves arrived, flying down on a reinforced sleigh carrying medical supplies and warm blankets.
"Thank goodness you're alive!" one of the medics shouted, tossing bandages and hot packs toward them. Roger sank into the comfort of the first blanket, feeling warmth seep slowly into his freezing limbs. Milo groaned but managed a tired grin as Santa waved the elves forward to begin treating them on the spot.
Once stabilized, they boarded the sleigh, which glided smoothly over the sparkling snow toward Frostholm. From afar, the town was beginning to stir, but as the sleigh descended toward the village square, Roger's heart skipped a beat. People of all ages—seniors with walking canes, toddlers in thick winter coats, mothers carrying babies—had gathered to see the heroes return.
"Look!" a child shouted, pointing toward the sleigh. "It's them! They did it!"
Roger felt a wave of exhaustion and relief wash over him. As the sleigh touched down, Milo and Roger stepped off alongside Santa, their boots crunching in the fresh snow. The crowd erupted into cheers, applause, and joyous shouts. Roger looked around, taking in the familiar faces of his neighbors, friends, and loved ones.
Three townspeople stepped forward, holding ceremonial banners and ringing small bells. "You have triumphed! Frostholm is safe!" one of them declared. "The goblins have been defeated for all eternity!"
Roger's parents pushed through the crowd first. His father, Harlan, was tall and broad-shouldered with a kind, weathered face and short, dark hair flecked with silver. His mother, Selene, was slender, with warm brown eyes and long chestnut hair braided down her back. They enveloped him in a tight embrace, relief written across their faces.
His little sister, Emmy, toddled forward in a bright blue winter coat, clutching a stuffed rabbit toy. Her curly brown hair peeked out from under her hood, and she squealed as Roger lifted her into his arms, planting a kiss on her forehead.
And then he saw her—Liora, his girlfriend, standing just a few steps away. She was petite but strong-looking, with long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders and sharp green eyes that shone with both concern and admiration. She had always carried herself with a quiet confidence, and now that confidence was mixed with relief.
Roger's heart lurched. The horrors of the cave, the goblins, and the bloody battle felt miles away as he approached her.
"Roger!" she called softly. Without a second thought, they embraced. The warmth of her arms against his chest erased the cold and the fear of the past days. Liora rested her forehead against his, and for a moment, neither spoke.
Then, gently, she lifted her fingers to his lips. "I'm just glad you're safe," she whispered. And before Roger could even process it, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
Roger froze, butterflies erupting in his stomach. His heart raced, his cheeks burned crimson, and for a split second, he thought he might faint. When they parted, he was still blushing, trying desperately not to smirk while catching his breath.
Around them, the town erupted in celebration. Families sang Christmas carols, children laughed and chased each other through the snow, and the golden sunlight of Christmas Eve filtered over the rooftops. For Roger, though, none of that mattered as much as the warmth of Liora's hand in his, her smile radiant, and the quiet joy that had settled in his chest.
The rebuilt workshop loomed behind them, a testament to perseverance and teamwork. Conveyor belts hummed, toys were stacked neatly, and the elves worked with a cheerfulness that had been absent only days before. Children across the world would receive their gifts, and the spirit of Christmas was alive once again.
Roger glanced at Liora, then at the town, then at the workshop. For the first time in weeks, he felt that Frostholm was truly safe. The battles, the fear, the blood—it was all behind them.
And for once, life felt simple, beautiful, and at peace.