The workshop had barely recovered from Santa's shout when three small figures detached themselves from the group. Pipette, quick as a flash, Groubelin with his tools always clipped to his belt, and Ludo, the most timid but most determined of the three, stepped forward in unison. They were the most alert—or simply the least tired from weeks of preparation—and they volunteered without hesitation.
They began by searching every nook and cranny of the workshop.
Under the piles of freshly wrapped gifts, nothing.
In the pockets of Santa's big coat, there were only a few gingerbread crumbs.
In the storeroom of lost socks, a strange place where one never really emerges the same, there is no trace of red.
They even inspected the reindeer stable, the kitchen still redolent with the smell of cinnamon, and the famous biscuit tin that Ludo promised himself he would revisit later. Still nothing.
Worse still: the Magic Compass, usually so reliable for finding enchanted objects, spun around like a frantic top. Its needle vibrated, pointing toward… something. Something that belonged to no known magic of the North Pole. The light it emitted seemed different, almost alien, as if it were trying to say a word no one had yet learned.
"This is not North Pole magic," murmured Groubelin, his voice suddenly deep.
"So... where does it come from?" asked Pipette, squinting.
Nobody knew yet.
But what they were about to discover would surpass anything they could have imagined.
The Quello Christmas Calendar continues tomorrow, with one more step towards the mystery of the missing hat.