Snow fell soft and relentless outside the window, blanketing the city in a hush that felt almost sacred. It was Christmas Eve, the first one since I'd come home, and the apartment smelled like cinnamon and pine from the tiny tree Mom had insisted on buying. We'd decorated it together last night, Mia giggling as she hung mismatched ornaments, Mom humming old carols under her breath, me smiling through the low thrum in my veins that never quite went away. The song had been quiet lately, a faint echo I could almost ignore during the day. Therapy with Dr. Hale helped. Or at least, I told myself it did.
Mia bounced around the living room in her red pajamas, cheeks flushed from the heater we'd cranked up against the winter chill. She was twelve now, but still small for her age, all wild curls and endless energy. "Eli, promise you'll get me something cool?" she begged for the tenth time that morning, clutching Shadow in her arms like a shield. The cat meowed in protest but didn't fight her grip.
I ruffled her hair, careful not to let my hand linger too long. My fingers felt heavier these days, like they remembered the weight of things they shouldn't. "Something cool. Got it. But you have to promise not to peek until tomorrow."
She beamed, that pure, unscarred smile that twisted something inside me every time. Mom watched from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. She looked younger in the holiday light, her early forties showing only in the faint lines around her eyes, even if she never said it. "Take her with you," she suggested quietly. "The stores are packed, but it'll be fun. Just… be careful out there."
I nodded. The hollow in my eyes stared back from the mirror as I shrugged on my coat. Careful. Always careful now.
The mall was a madhouse. Strings of twinkling lights draped every surface, snow dusting the railings, and the air thick with the scent of peppermint and overpriced candles. Mia skipped ahead, pointing at window displays stuffed animals, glittering jewelry, a toy store with animatronic elves waving cheerfully. I kept pace, hands shoved deep in my pockets, the focus crystal around my neck pulsing warm against my chest. It was a habit now, touching it when the world felt too loud.
We ducked into a boutique toy shop, the kind with handmade dolls and puzzles that cost more than they should. Mia's eyes lit up at a shelf of intricate music boxes, each one carved like tiny fairy tales. "This one!" she exclaimed, picking up a delicate wooden box shaped like a snowy village. She wound the key, and a soft melody tinkled out—Jingle Bells, bright and harmless.
I smiled, pulling out my wallet. "Sold. Let's get it wrapped."
The clerk a middle-aged woman with a Santa hat pinned crookedly to her hair rang us up with a cheerful "Merry Christmas!" Mia chattered about how she'd hide it under the tree, and for a moment everything felt normal. Warm. Like the weight I'd been carrying since Valthorne had finally lifted.
Then the overhead speakers crackled to life.
At first it was just background noise, blending with the chatter of shoppers and the beep of registers. But then the piano notes hit soft, angelic, wrapping around the store like fog.
Silent night… holy night…
My vision tunneled. The crystal burned against my skin, hot as fresh iron. I blinked, trying to shake it off. Just a song. Just Christmas music. But the hum in my veins answered, rising to meet it, and something deep inside me stretched awake.
All is calm… all is bright…
Mia's voice faded. The store blurred at the edges. I reached for the counter to steady myself, but my hand closed around something else the clerk's wrist. She looked up, surprised, her mouth opening probably to ask if I was okay.
I didn't hear her.
The world snapped to black.
When the haze cleared, no, not cleared, but shifted, I was moving. Not me. Something wearing my skin. The song filled every corner of my skull, harmonious and hungry, guiding my hands like a conductor's baton. The clerk's face twisted in confusion as my grip tightened. Bone cracked under my fingers, sharp and wet, like stepping on a twig in fresh snow. She gasped, a small sound lost in the melody, and I twisted—efficient, precise, the way they'd trained me at Apex Veil. Her neck gave with a soft pop, head lolling back like a broken doll. She slumped over the counter, eyes wide and empty, blood trickling from her lips where she'd bitten her tongue.
Round yon virgin… mother and child…
A scream cut through the store high, piercing, from a young mother clutching a stroller near the puzzles. The thing inside me turned, muscles coiling like springs. I vaulted the counter in one fluid motion, boots slick on the tile. She backed away, arms raised, begging words tumbling out. "Please, no my baby…"
My fist connected with her jaw first, shattering it into fragments that grated under her skin. She staggered, and I followed, grabbed her hair, yanked her head back. The knife from the gift-wrapping station was in my hand now, blade glinting under the festive lights. I drove it up under her ribs, twisting once, twice, feeling the hot rush of blood over my knuckles. She gurgled, clutching at me, nails scraping uselessly against my coat. I let her fall, the stroller tipping over beside her, wheels spinning lazily.
Holy infant… so tender and mild…
More screams now, a chorus blending with the song. Shoppers bolted for the doors—families, couples, an old man with a cane. The doors were locked. Had I locked them? I really did not know. My body moved without thought, blocking the exit. A father charged me, swinging a heavy toy train like a club. I sidestepped, grabbed his arm mid-swing, and bent it backward until the elbow reversed with a crunch. He howled, dropping to his knees. I stomped down—once on his knee, shattering the cap; twice on his chest, ribs caving like wet cardboard. Blood bubbled from his mouth as I knelt, pressing the knife to his throat and slicing deep, ear to ear. The spray arced across the floor, painting the nearby shelves in red mist.
Sleep in heavenly peace…
The store was a slaughterhouse now. A girl hid behind a display of board games, sobbing into her phone. I dragged her out by the ankle, her nails scraping furrows in the wood. She kicked, fought—good for her. But my hands were like iron. I pinned her down, knee on her chest, and punched—once to stun, twice to break her nose, three times until her face was a pulped ruin, teeth scattering like broken pearls. Blood pooled under her head, mixing with the fake snow they'd sprinkled on the floor.
Sleep in heavenly… peace…
An employee burst from the back room, wielding a fire extinguisher. Brave. Stupid. I let him swing, dodging the foam spray, then closed the distance. My elbow to his throat crushed his windpipe he dropped, gasping like a fish on land. I finished him slow: fingers in his eyes, pushing until they burst like overripe grapes, then deeper, into the soft gray matter beyond. His body jerked once, twice, then stilled.
The song looped, verse after verse, and the killing flowed like a dance. A couple huddled in the corner, I separated them first, snapping the man's spine over my knee with a sound like cracking firewood, then turning to the woman. She whispered prayers as I carved runes into her arms silver lines matching the ones under my own shirt. Blood welled, hot and sticky, and she screamed until I silenced her with a twist of her neck.
Bodies littered the aisles now twisted limbs, vacant stares, blood soaking into the carpet like spilled wine. The air smelled coppery, thick, mingling with the peppermint diffusers still pumping holiday cheer. I moved through it all, methodical, the Aether singing in my veins, turning every death into a note in its endless lullaby.
Then silence. Not the song it played on, soft and triumphant. But the store. No more screams. No more movement.
I blinked, the haze lifting like fog burned away by dawn. My hands were red to the elbows, slick and trembling. The knife clattered to the floor from numb fingers. I looked around, heart slamming against ribs that felt too tight.
Bodies. Everywhere. The clerk. The mother. The father. The girl. The employee. Strangers I'd turned into dead bodies.
Mia.
She stood by the music box display, eyes wide and terrified. She held the wrapped gift in her arms, untouched, not a drop of blood on her pajamas. "Eli?" she whispered. "What happened?"
I staggered toward her, knees buckling. The song faded to a whisper in my head, satisfied. Pleased.
I hadn't touched her. The thing inside me hadn't wanted to.
But as I pulled her into a hug, hiding her face from the carnage, I realized the terrible truth.
The mountains weren't done singing.
And next Time, the offering might be closer to home.