❓ If you weren’t sure who came down the chimney… would you hide, or listen closer?

You notice it only because Eljara’s eyes don’t match her voice.
She’s humming softly, wrapping the last gifts.
But her gaze keeps flicking to the window—
as if the wind knows something she doesn’t want to say aloud.

Mara curls tighter in the blanket fort,
legs tucked under, cocoa forgotten.
The candles flicker too often.
And the night feels thick.
Listening.

“Eljara…” she whispers,
“what if it’s not Saint Nicholas this year?”

Eljara doesn’t answer at first.
She just places a plate by the window:
cookies, milk, and one dark slice of bread.

Mara inches closer.
“…Who is that for?”

Eljara speaks without turning.
“Some names wear robes.
Others wear soot.”
Her hand hovers over the bread.
“For the one who watches from behind the snow.”

Mara shivers.
“Chibi said there’s more than one.
One with chains.
One with ash.
One with a sack.”

Eljara nods once.
“Sometimes it’s Saint Nicholas.
Sometimes it’s who comes before him.”

Outside, something taps the window.
A soft echo.
Not quite knocking.
Not quite scratching.
Just… choosing.

The slice of bread begins to steam—
though it’s cold as ice.

Mara swallows.
“Eljara… what if he picks the wrong name?”

Eljara whispers:
“Then we hope kindness is louder than fear.”

The candlelight bends slightly—
as if bowing to something
that hasn’t stepped inside
yet.

❓ If the night sent its oldest visitor to your door…
would you hide behind the curtains,
or set a place at the sill?

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