Christmas Miraculous Novels & Stories

My cheeks burn as I sit up, shoving my hair back. “Just packing, and packing’s a nightmare for me,” I say, dodging Jess’s suspicious grin who have been my best friend since forever. She knows me too well. “You sure you’re up for this weird family Christmas marathon, or should we just ditch them?” I ask, definitely not feeling the vibe of this so called holiday. Jess flops onto the couch, kicking off her boots. “Free food, snow, and your mom’s wine stash? I’m in. Plus, I gotta see these stepbrothers.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Inside the chest there was a glass globe. A magic crystal ball? An oversized marble? It didn’t come with instructions so it was hard to tell. Cheng went around the room opening chests and everyone dived in after him to see what they’d won. Christmas come early. Or late. Or not at all. I wondered if people gave each other presents to celebrate the Day of Weld, before they got eaten. “I found something,” said Maurice. He was bent over a particularly small chest. He pulled out a crucifix.

She nodded, and the relief on her face was obvious. I studied her for a moment. Money had never been a problem in my family, thanks to my grandmother’s business skills. I could only imagine what it felt like to have debt hanging over your head, affecting your quality of life, and then suddenly having it disappear. The relief and the small smile that appeared on her face made her even prettier. “Thank you, Mr. Torrens... I mean, Albert.” I smiled. “We’re quite a pair of lunatics, aren’t we?”

he replies as he moves away from us. We pick at our desserts as Josh and Jackson provided us with more information that Christian had shared. That he remembered anything was a miracle after the abuse he had endured. That he returned to us at all was a miracle. “A miracle performed by you, baby,” Jackson says through our mind-link. My face goes red as I blush at his compliment. “I did what I could, but Christian had to have the will to live,” I reply through our mind-link. “You gave him the motivation,” he replies with a smile.

This incredible, impossible, miraculous new beginning. Ours.

I smiled at him, recalling the conversation we had before Christmas, his words echoing in my mind. “I always tell my kids, Christmas comes with its own miracles. Who knows? Maybe this year’s your lucky one.” I chuckled dryly and hit the elevator button, glancing back at him. “I wouldn’t count on it, Mr. Jones. Miracles? Christmas? I don’t believe in that kind of thing.” The elevator doors slid open, and as I stepped inside, I heard him call out, “Maybe this Christmas will change your mind, Miss Samantha!” As the doors closed, I sighed, shaking my head. Christmas miracles? I scoffed under my breath, feeling the familiar ache settle in.

This wasn’t the end, but only the beginning. Through tear hazed eyes, Amber looked out the kitchen window. The sun was beginning to set over the city. The sky bathed in orange and purples and golds. It was beautiful. Not the end, but the beginning of the next. And as God as her witness, by the time it rose again, they would either have Grayson back, or know where to find him. Miracles had happened on Christmas Day before after all, like a legit virgin birth. This would be a Christmas to remember indeed.

The altar is a massive slab of stone carved with overlapping circles, stars, and wreath symbols—the kind I’ve seen in nightmares I always assumed were stress-induced. It glows faintly red, pulsing in slow, steady breaths. My throat tightens. “It’s alive.” Lucien nods grimly. “It’s sentient magic. It responds to the vessel’s presence.” A shiver slams through my bones.“So it’s reacting to me.” “Yes.” Wonderful. I’m literally turning on haunted Christmas furniture with my proximity. Milo tugs my sleeve. His tiny voice trembles: “It knows you.” I kneel beside him. “Do you?”

Killian immediately shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, and she pulled it tight around herself, breathing in his scent. "I loved Christmas here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was—they made it so special. So magical. Mrs Morales would start decorating the day after Thanksgiving. She had made us all hot chocolate and put on Christmas music–Mary's Boy Child by Bonney M precisely, and we'd spend the whole day turning the house into something out of a Hallmark movie. And Mr Morales, he'd read us the Christmas story every single night in December, counting down until the actual day. And Daryl would—" She couldn't finish. "I hated the smell of Christmas

Frost dusted every surface in delicate lace patterns. Wolves gasped. Some in awe. Some in fear. Some because Lucian had stepped in a pile of enchanted snowflakes and immediately slipped. He crashed backward, hitting the floor with a thud that echoed across the foyer. Marek pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aveline.” “Yes,” I said proudly. “What did you do?” “Christmas magic.” “That is not a real thing.” “It is now.” Wolves scattered across the room, marveling at the frost covered decorations. The young pups squealed in delight as enchanted snowflakes drifted down from the ceiling.