Nicholas Kringle's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Nicholas had no legs. He had spent them casting the magic across the square. Now he floated at the cold edge, thin as breath, watching Noel hold the light against his chest. The boy was safe. The magic was safe. But Nicholas could not reach him. The frozen space between them would eat what little remained of Nicholas before he crossed it. He needed another way to the boy, or the magic would stay wild and untaught. Then he saw the tree. It stood in the square, a few steps from Noel's bench. Its branches curled and twisted like fat green worms wrapped around a trunk. Red and silver ornaments hung between the loops. A gold star tipped the top. Someone had built it here, in the killing cold, and it did not freeze. Nicholas felt heat pouring off it, the same heat that had once fed his magic at the beanstalk. He understood. Heat could not save his form. Heat dissolved him. But heat could carry the magic where his body could not go. He did not need to cross. He needed the boy to come to the warmth, and the warmth to hold his voice. Nicholas pressed the last of himself toward the tree. His arms burned away as he moved. The cold clawed at him. He reached the branches and folded what remained of his essence into their glow. The star at the top flared brighter. The ornaments rang like small bells. Noel stood. He walked toward the tree, drawn by the sudden light. "Who's there?" he asked. He held the magic in one hand and the red scarf in the other. "Here," Nicholas said. His voice came from the branches now, warm and close. "The light in your hand. I gave it to you. Now I'll tell you what it is." Noel touched a curling green branch. "It doesn't burn," he said. "It's like the scarf. Warm for no reason." "Not for no reason," Nicholas said. "The magic gives. That's all it does. Hold it and it dies. Give it away and it lives. Every year, you find someone with nothing, and you hand them warmth. Like the stranger who gave you that scarf." Noel looked at the scarf in his hand. His face changed. "That was you," he said. "No," Nicholas said. "Someone before me. Someone before them. It goes back a long way." His voice thinned. The tree's light dimmed as he spent himself. "You keep it going. That's the whole of it." Noel wrapped the scarf around his neck. He held the light up, and it steadied, brighter now. "I'll give it away," he said. "I promise." The magic had a teacher at last. Noel knew what he carried. But Nicholas felt the tree's heat finishing him. His voice was almost gone, and the passing was not yet complete.