Chapter Text
Prologue
Running faster than he ever had before, a slight young man tore through the city square, weaving between the familiar faces going about their evenings. Some were shopping, some gathering for meals, others simply enjoying time together with their families. They laughed and talked like it was any old Tuesday, as if their world wasn’t minutes away from turning on its head.
They had no idea what was coming.
He should tell them, he should warn them.
He can’t.
He had to get to the Sweeps.
He had to tell them what happened.
Turning a corner too quickly, the man’s feet hit a patch of ice and slid out from under him. He flailed for a moment before focusing a burst of his magic to his shoes to right himself. When he found his footing again, he ascended the side stairs two at a time, pushing his shoulder into the trick door at the top to force it open. He paused just for a moment, long enough to catch his breath and check his surroundings.
Left or right, he could not remember the way to The Chamber of Sweeps, he’d only been in The Hall twice, once on a field trip in his early school years and again when he was sworn to his responsibilities as a guard. Choosing at random, he took off toward the door to his right. It opened as he approached, revealing the cavernous marble room of the Sweeps. He made it about three steps into the room before something invisible held him back, causing a grunt to escape his lips. Suddenly, nine scowls were trained on him and he felt a bead of sweat roll down his back as he swallowed dryly.
“My lords.” He addressed the Sweeps, his voice surprisingly hoarse.
“Get on with it, boy.”
“What do you have to say that you think is important enough to invade this space with no invitation?”
Lifting his chin, he cleared his throat and shared the grim news.
“He’s gone.”
Several gasps filled the room as several Sweeps stood and shouted questions back at him.
“What do you mean?”
“How could that be?”
“Explain yourself!”
The man at the center of the long table cleared his throat, magically amplifying it to quiet the rest of the Sweeps. When the room once again quieted, he inclined his head slightly to the young man to continue.
“Santa is dead.”