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Nevermore was never loud about Christmas.
There were no blinking lights strung through the halls, no carols echoing through the stone. Just pine boughs tucked into window frames, candles burning low in iron sconces, and snow collecting patiently in the courtyard like it knew better than to rush.
Selene liked it that way. She sat cross-legged on the cold floor of Ophelia Hall, back against the window, watching her breath fog the glass. Outside, the gargoyles wore soft white crowns. Inside, the air smelled faintly of evergreen and wax. Francoise burst in without knocking. She always did.
“You’re freezing,” Francoise announced, already tugging Selene’s sleeves down over her hands. “You’re going to turn into an icicle and I will be blamed.” Selene smiled faintly. “You’re always blamed.” “Exactly.” Francoise dropped beside her, knees pulled up, red hair still dusted with snow. Her eyes were bright tonight, not anxious, not guarded. Just… lighter. Rare. Precious. She pulled something from her coat pocket and held it out.
It was small. Wrapped in black paper, edges carefully folded. Selene hesitated. “You didn’t have to-” “I know.” Francoise smiled anyway. “That’s why I did.”
Inside was a simple charm, a thin strip of obsidian carved into the shape of a crescent, threaded onto a chain. Not flashy. Not magical in the obvious way. Selene’s shadow stirred. “It’s warded,” Francoise said quickly, softer now. “Nothing big. Just… grounding. For when your head gets loud.”
Selene closed her fingers around it, surprised by the warmth. “You made this.” “Isaac helped with the boring parts,” Francoise admitted. “I did the rest.” That tracked. Selene didn’t speak for a moment. When she did, her voice was careful. “Thank you.” Francoise shrugged, suddenly shy. “You notice things. You remember people. I thought… you should have something that remembers you back.” The bells rang … then distant, slow, echoing through the stone. Midnight. Christmas. For a while, they just sat there, shoulders touching, watching snow fall in lazy spirals outside the window. “I hate the holidays,” Francoise said eventually.
Selene nodded. “I know.” “Our father pretended nothing existed that he didn’t approve of,” Francoise continued, staring straight ahead. “And everyone else pretends they’re fine.” Selene’s shadow crept forward, pooling gently at Francoise’s feet like a cat curling up beside her. “You don’t have to pretend here,” Selene said.
Francoise glanced down at the shadow, then back at Selene. Her smile this time was small, real. “That’s why I like you.”
The bells faded. Somewhere in Caliban Hall, someone laughed. Somewhere else, gears turned, restless even in winter. Francoise leaned her head against Selene’s shoulder. “If I ever lose control,” she said quietly, “promise you won’t look at me like I’m a monster.”
Selene didn’t hesitate. “I won’t.” “And if I ask you not to tell Isaac something,” Francoise added, almost whispering, “will you listen?”
Selene’s shadow tightened.. just slightly. “Yes,” she said. “But I won’t lie for you.” Francoise exhaled, relief and sadness tangled together. “That’s fair.” They stayed there until the candles burned low and the snow began to soften the edges of the world.
Years later, Selene would remember this night not as a warning, but as a kindness. The quiet before the bells stopped ringing.