On the morning of December 25th,
The workshop was bathed in a rare peace.
Not a whisper left.
not even the familiar creaking of planks under the elves' feet.
Everything was asleep.
Everything was at rest.
Everything breathed gently.
Objects of the human world —
the balaclava, the twisted hat, the candle, the Saint Lucia nightlight,
rested calmly on the table,
as if they had finally found their place.
In the center,
in the exact spot where Santa's hat had been placed the day before,
A small note was waiting.
No one had heard the door.
nor did I see the ink dry.
On paper,
simply :
" Merry Christmas.
The light always returns.
Pipette was the first to wake up.
She read the words,
then smiled silently.
She understood.
It wasn't North Pole magic,
nor human magic.
It was the magic that the two worlds had woven together:
that of the thread that nothing can cut,
nor the cold,
nor the wind,
nor the longest night of winter.
The elves were still asleep.
Reindeer too.
But light,
was wide awake.
And Christmas could begin!