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CHAPTER 4 :The truth my family buried
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2025-11-21 13:28:50When a flame turns black, you stop asking logical questions.You stop caring that the lantern in your uncle’s hand looks like it was stolen from Dracula’s basement.
You stop arguing about whether or not your family is normal.
Because normal families don’t whisper ancient curses under their breath while something supernatural tries to break down their front door.
I stared at the black fire swirling behind the lantern glass.
“Aunty Ruby… what is that?”Her jaw tightened. “A warning.”“To us or to them?”“Both.”
Okay, fantastic. I officially hated Christmas.
He strode to the window and yanked the curtains shut, as if a couple yards of fabric could stop glowing-eyed creeps in the snow.
“Stay away from the door,” he ordered.
“I’m not stupid—”“You’re curious,” he interrupted sharply, “and that’s worse.”
Annoyingly accurate.Another whisper drifted through the walls.
Little star…My bones locked up.
“Who is he?” I asked, voice thin. “The man with the gold eyes.”
Ruby didn’t answer at first. She walked to the fireplace, grabbed a poker, and jammed it into the burning logs like she was punishing them. Sparks flew up violently.
“He’s called the Winter King.”I blinked. “Like… a fairytale?”
Ruby shook his head. “Fairytales came from him.”That was not comforting.
“And why,” I said slowly, “is she whispering weird pet names at me?”
She turned toward me then, really looking at me, and her eyes were filled with something I had never seen on her face before.
Fear.
“Because he has chosen you.”Nope.Nope nope nope.
“I didn’t sign up for that.” “It’s not a choice.” “I definitely still didn’t sign up for that.”
Ruby scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was supposed to skip your generation.”
“‘It’ being…?” The door rattled. HARD.
I jumped so high my hand smacked the Christmas bell hanging above it, and it chimed mockingly.
Jingle jingle, you’re screwed.
Ruby checked the front lock again even though he had already bolted it twice. “Our bloodline,” he muttered. “We were marked centuries ago. Every few generations, one child in our family becomes… visible to him.”
“I’m twenty,” I snapped. “Not a ‘child.’”
“To him,” Ruby replied, “you’re still the youngest born of our branch.”
I opened my mouth. I closed it. Then I opened it again. “So what—you’ve all known about this? This… creepy snow-king stalker thing?”
She winced. “We were hoping it would die out.” “Yeah, well, surprise. It didn’t.”
The windows vibrated as the crowd of figures outside moved closer. I could hear their footsteps crunching in unison. Not normal. Not human.
Ruby lowered his voice to a whisper. “Once he notices you, he doesn’t stop.”
“That’s—great. Love that for me.”“He wants a bride.”
“What?” My heartbeat stuttered. “I’m sorry—WHAT?”
Ruby looked away like he was embarrassed on my behalf. “That’s what he calls it. A bride. A chosen one. Not a wife in the traditional sense—more like… a guardian. A mortal tether.”
“So because I’m unlucky enough to be born into this family, I’m now the magical snow demon’s fiancée?!”
A shadow slammed against the door. I jumped again.Ruby grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me. He can’t come in unless you invite him.”
“I’m never inviting him!” “Good,” he said tightly. “Because once he’s inside, you won’t have the strength to refuse him.”
My stomach twisted. “What does that even mean?” “You’ve already felt it,” Ruby said softly. “The pull. The curiosity. The way you looked for him in the snow.”
I opened my mouth to deny it—then shut it again.Because she was right.
I had looked for him.That scared me more than anything outside the door.Footsteps again—slow, heavy, approaching.
A deep voice slid through the cracks like ice water down my spine.
“Little star,” he murmured.I backed into the fireplace accidentally, heat burning into my arm. I didn’t care.
“Don’t answer him,” Ruby said sharply. “I’m not stupid!”
“You’re human,” he corrected. “That’s worse.”
I glared at him. Then the Winter King spoke again.
“You called for me.”
"I DIDN’T,” I hissed through my teeth.“You thought of me.”
“That doesn’t count!” “It does.”
God, his voice was like velvet dipped in poison.Rowan grabbed my wrist. “We’re going to the cellar.” “Why?” “It’s the only room with iron lining.”
“That’s… comforting.” He dragged me across the living room, but we barely took two steps before—
All the lights in the house went out.The fire died,
The candles snuffed themselves,the Christmas tree flickered, buzzed, sparked—And went black.
I was swallowed by darkness so absolute it felt alive.A single glow illuminated the room.
Not warm.Not golden.Silver-blue and Cold.
Coming from the doorframe.
The Winter King spoke softly, like a lover greeting someone after years apart.
“I found you.”
My throat closed. My knees almost buckled.Ruby yanked me behind him. “Stay back!”
A low chuckle drifted through the door. “You know you cannot protect her forever.”“She’s not yours,” Ruby snarled. “She was born mine.”
The word born made something hot and electric shoot through my chest, like a memory clawing its way up but unable to surface.
The Winter King continued, voice gentle and terrifying.
“Little star… open the door.”“No!” “Just a touch.”
“NO.”“Just a look.”
Ruby squeezed my hand. “Don’t listen.”But something inside me—deep, ancient, unwanted—responded to his voice.
A tug. A longing I didn’t understand. A wrongness that felt right in a sick, primal way.
I hated it. “Ruby…” I whispered. “What if he gets in?”
“He won’t,” she said firmly. “Not tonight.”
The door handle twisted.Metal screeched.
The whole frame trembled.He was forcing it.Rowan shoved me toward the cellar door. “GO!”
I ran.The door behind me boomed like a battering ram hit it.
One more hit like that and it would splinter.I flung open the cellar door and rushed in. Ruby followed, slamming it behind us. She locked the iron latch—one of those old medieval-looking ones.
The basement was lit with faint, eerie red emergency bulbs that flickered weakly.
My chest heaved,my hands shook.But the worst part wasn’t the Winter King’s voice anymore.
It was Ruby’s.“Whatever you do,” he whispered, “don’t let him call your real name.”
I froze.“My… real name?”
Ruby looked at me with regret so heavy it pressed on my lungs.“The name we raised you with isn’t the one you were born with.”
My heart tripped over itself. “What?” Outside, the Winter King spoke again.
Closer.Too close. “Little star… say your name for me.” Ruby grabbed my shoulders. “We changed it to protect you.” My pulse was hammered.
“Then what—what IS my real name?”
Ruby swallowed.Outside, the Winter King whispered:
“Liora…”My blood turned to ice.
Liora? Ruby’s face collapsed in dread.
“That,” he choked, “is the name he marked.”The door upstairs cracked.Shattered,splintered apart. Snow and footsteps flooded the house above us.
Ruby stepped in front of me, gripping the iron latch as if her hands alone could keep the Winter King out.
She couldn’t.I knew it.He knew it.
And worst of all? The Winter King knew it too.
Bab terbaru
Christmas in ashes CHAPTER 64: The cost of being seen
Being seen isn’t free, it just sends the bill later, usually when you’re already tired.The morning after the council meeting, Hallowpine stops acting polite, no more sideways glances or fake smiles, people look right at me now, some grateful, some pissed, most carrying something heavier, like they’ve just realized they’ve been part of something ugly and can’t hand the guilt back.Ruby flips the shop sign from CLOSED to OPEN with a big theatrical swing.“If they’re gonna stare,” she says, “let’s give them something worth watching.”Lucien gives a short laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes.“You’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you.”“Chaos is more fun with an audience,” she answers, shrugging.Milo’s perched on the counter, legs swinging slow, eyes sharp and quiet, he’s not hiding anymore, he’s watching everything like he’s taking notes for later.The silver in my chest hums soft and steady.“Post exposure stabilization in progress,” the presence says, “secondary pressure vectors probab
Christmas in ashes CHAPTER 63: The consequences of standing
The morning after you finally say the quiet part out loud, the town doesn’t bother with makeup anymore.Hallowpine wakes up prickly and red eyed, conversations stop mid sentence when I walk by, eyes linger a second too long before darting away, it doesn’t feel like rage yet, it feels like the moment people realize they’ve been living inside someone else’s machine and the gears just got loud.Ruby brews coffee so strong it could wake the dead, then drinks it like it’s punishment.“They’re rattled,” she says, almost smiling, “rattled people trip over their own feet, good.”Lucien stands at the window like he’s on sentry duty.“Elias won’t sit still now,” he mutters, “once the mask is off, he’ll get sloppy.”Milo’s curled in the corner of the couch, knees pulled up, hands tucked inside his sleeves, he hasn’t said much since last night, and with Milo quiet isn’t empty, it’s him turning the whole thing over and over in his head like a puzzle piece he’s not sure fits yet.The silver inside
Christmas in ashes CHAPTER 62: The shape of a corner
Pressure doesn’t come with sirens. It just turns the volume down on everything you used to take for granted until the silence itself starts to hurt.Three days in, Hallowpine has turned inconvenience into an art form. Nothing is ever “banned.” Nothing is ever “forbidden.” Everything is just… delayed, Under consideration, Temporarily unavailable due to unforeseen circumstances. The town still smiles at you. Still says good morning. Still asks how you’re holding up. But kindness has teeth now.Milo’s still not allowed back at school. The clinic keeps “losing” my appointment slots. At the grocery store, the shelves mysteriously empty themselves whenever I turn down an aisle. People wave. They nod. They use my name like it’s still a normal word. But every hello carries a little extra space between us.Lucien watches it all with the kind of anger that makes the air around him feel hot. “They’re bleeding you dry,” he says one afternoon, voice rough. “Slow. Polite. No finge
Christmas in ashes CHAPTER 61: What they call necessary
Morning in Hallowpine feels like the day after a really bad fight with someone you still have to live with. Nobody’s yelling anymore, but the air is thick with that careful, brittle quiet. Everyone’s walking on eggshells they laid themselves.I make coffee out of habit. It sits there getting cold while I stare at it. The silver thing inside me isn’t screaming anymore,just watching. Like that friend who stays too long after the party because they know something’s still about to go wrong.Outside, people are taking different routes to the same places. You can tell who’s avoiding whose street.Lucien’s scrolling local updates, jaw so tight I can see the muscle jump. “They’re calling last night a misunderstanding,” he mutters. “Community miscommunication. Emotional escalation.” I give a small, tired laugh that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Of course they are.”Ruby lights a cigarette by the window without opening it. The smoke curls against the glass like it’s trying to get out. “Give
Christmas in ashes Chapter 60: What it means to take someone
They don’t rush me.That’s the first thing that tells me this isn’t over—it’s only changing shape.People stand frozen in the street, breath fogging the air, eyes wide with the kind of shock that comes from seeing themselves reflected too clearly. The mirror holds. Not violently. Not punitively. Just long enough to make denial impossible.Elias recovers first. Of course he does. Men like him always do.“Everyone,” he says calmly, raising his hands, palms out. “Let’s take a step back. This isn’t what we intended.”The silver tightens, not in anger but in emphasis. Intent doesn’t erase impact. It never has.I step forward, just one step, and the crowd recoils again. Not because I’m threatening—because now they understand proximity. They understand that standing this close to someone you’re trying to remove carries weight.“You came here to take me,” I say quietly. “So don’t pretend you were here to talk.”A woman near the back whispers, “We just wanted things to go back to normal.”I lo
Christmas in ashes Chapter 59:The moment they stop asking
The night doesn’t end after the contractors leave. It just changes shape.Silence settles into Hallowpine like something waiting to be mistaken for peace. The candles burn low, their flames steady in a way that feels intentional, as if even fire has decided not to draw attention to itself. Outside, footsteps pass without voices. Doors open and close with too much care.Lucien doesn’t sit. He leans against the wall near the front window, arms crossed, watching shadows shift across the street. Ruby finally stubs out her cigarette and mutters, “That was a rehearsal.”“For what?” Noelle asks, though her voice already knows the answer.“For doing it without asking next time,” Ruby replies.Milo hasn’t moved since the knock. He sits on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, eyes fixed on the door. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet but steady. “They were supposed to be scared,” he says. “They weren’t.”I close my eyes for a moment. He’s right. Fear would have been easier. Fear hesita
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