Santa Claus and The Yuletide Rune

For weeks, enormous cracks had been tearing through the icy landscape of our village, opening without warning and leaving gaping wounds in the ground.

Buildings that had stood for decades began to crumble and fall.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

But worse than the destruction… the Elves were vanishing.

At first, they simply failed to return home.

Then, without warning, they began to disappear in plain sight — gone in an instant, as though they had never been there at all.

No trace.

No explanation.

We were in crisis.

And so, I was summoned.

As I pushed open the heavy doors of the Feasting Hall, the sight that awaited me told me all I needed to know.

The High Council had arrived.

Seated around the central fire, the Elders exuded their usual quiet authority — but beneath it, something else stirred.

Concern.

“Santa, come. Join us,” said Kuningas Tonttu, gesturing to the seat beside him.

His voice was calm… but heavy with meaning.

“How many have gone missing?” he asked.

I hesitated.

“The last count… was twenty-one.”

A hush fell over the hall.

Hallita Tonttu leaned forward, his eyes reflecting the firelight.

“It is as we feared,” he said quietly.

“The Northern Lights… are weakening.”

A chill passed through me.

“The Elves,” Visass Tonttu continued, his voice grave, “are bound to the flow of that magic.”

He paused.

“And without it…”

“They cannot remain.”

Silence.

I felt the weight of it settle deep within me.

The cracks.

The disappearances.

The failing light.

“What can be done?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

The Elders exchanged a glance.

“There may be a way…” said Hallita Tonttu slowly.

“But we must act quickly.”

The story continues within the pages of the book…