That Christmas, the presents still came. But Mrs. Claus began leaving one small gift for herself each year: an hour alone in the unlit woods, craving nothing but the dark.
Every December, the workshop hummed with clockwork joy. But this year, Tomtemor—Mrs. Claus—stopped stirring the cocoa. She stood at the frosted window, watching the endless polar twilight. ar tomtemor sugen pa nat
"No," she said, brushing snow from her apron. "I just remembered who I am before the giving starts." That Christmas, the presents still came
"I thought you left," he whispered.
He looked up from his list. "Light is hope." watching the endless polar twilight. "No