Off in the distance, Nicholas Noel could see the ghostly shimmer of the stained glass, Northern Lights. His friend, a prominent botanist, had once told him that the Aurora Borealis were gases suspended in the atmosphere. The rising or setting Sun would refract off the gases, much the same as a rainbow. Noel thought back to his childhood, a day by the lake after a light afternoon shower on a hot summer day. He remembers the spectrum cast in front of a canvas of white pillowy clouds. Laughing to himself, he noticed a faint trace of his breath. Finally. The cold here was so bitter, even his lungs could give off traces of heat.
How long had it been since he needed to breath? How long since he sweat? Such a strange thing to long for, breaking a sweat. He wanted to laugh again at the notion of desiring perspiration, or cold even. Why would any reasonable man want to be cold? Especially this far north. Nicholas Noel did. He desired to be warm, or cold, or tired. But he wasn't. Not in this endless night. Yet, he certainly was hungry and at the same time thirsty. Both had be come a singular sensation for him. He was glad to feel hungry. Glad to be unquenched. Laughing at that mad thought, this time, no breath showed. For the second time his breath had erased his smile.
'Endless night! Months of darkness. NO days. Of course the other half of the year it's all Sun all the time.'� The sea captain was a well decorated member of the mariner elite and very drunk. The entire party gasped and cackled at his countless stories of seafaring. Nicholas was not surprised that he wads the leader of many men and vessels. He was captivating. It was obvious he had studied theatre as well as military history. Nicholas had studied the arts as well. Hind sight being what it was he wished some of those focuses were on the arts of darkness. The captain, full of himself and full of rum, slurred on.
'The north pole, I tell you, is something incredible to say the least. No compass can work there. The Sun does not lead you west across the sky. Even the giant white bears that own the continent stay far from the center. Ice for an eternity. No trees no mountains no water. You'll think it as foul as a dessert, but not so. Shiny, pristine, pure landscape. Neither animal nor vegetable blemishes the whiteness. It is as if the earth were made of diamonds. There must not be any air there either, because when you breathe, you see your breath as thick as milk.'� A woman guffawed.
'Now you are exaggerating. I see my breath often in the winter months.'� A small group nodded in concurrence.
'All too true my dear, but at the top of the world, you can see the breath become dead. It sinks as it is expelled. It must be heavier than the air there.'� The captain's brother in-law was a physician and had let his brother's speculation go on long enough. The physician soon interjected and explained some of the mechanics of breathing. Noel listened intently about water vapor and heat. He wanted to charge the physician with ignorance. There was most certainly life in one's breath. The absence of the subtle fog of exhalation would bring that to light.
Yet, Noel believed the man's science. He knew quite well that science would be the new rules of the world. A world that would grow and evolve around him, as he remained forever unchanged. The handsome sea captain continued his conversation to a few lovely maidens who were not distracted by the homely physician. 'I am returning to the northern lands soon. Of course I will enjoy my time here first.'� The captain winked as the girls giggled. Noel would be on that vessel to the North. He had to be. There had to be a way to end the suffering.
Noel stared at the Northern Lights in which never ceased to be awe inspiring. He had looked at them constantly for the last two days, while continuing to walk in the direction he hoped was north. His compass ceased to work before he even left the boat, but the sea captain was brilliant and well trained. He developed several methods to simultaneously keep his ship with a sense of direction.
'Mr. Noel you will die in hours. A man of your prestige and wealth should not be so shamefully reckless.'�
'Captain you are noted as a good man and honorable sailor, but I must know where they come from.'�
'Certainly you know they are some natural anomaly. Beside even if you were to find the source, how would you do the experiments necessary to explain them? I have a felling you sense magic from them. Perhaps, a Leprechaun at the end of a rainbow.'�
'I seek no little men,'� Noel blurted with a laugh. 'No gold, no fairy tale creatures, only scientific acclaim. This glory will be mine.'�
For months, Noel sold the lie to his peers, servants and family. His desperate quest to conquer nature, like so many pioneers before. Of course, Noel had little concern for accolade. If they only knew his true intentions, how their little world would unravel. He envied them in all their vulnerability. What he wouldn't trade to be dying just like they were. But he had planned a way to have himself destroyed.
Noel remembered pacing, in the storm, on the steps of Saint Victoria's Cathedral. The holy woman noticed Noel when the lightning flashed. The courtyard lit up and a lone skulking figure was silhouetted. She watched for a few moments with concern, but when she realized the person was merely walking a circle, it occurred to her, a soul was in torment.
The light from within the steeple cast an eerie glow on Noel's face as she invited him in. That man had a presence that gave her chills. On the other hand, his eyes were sallow and broken. He meant her no harm, that was apparent, but he was involved in some very grave problem.
He hesitated before he stepped in the door. She assumed he did not go to services regularly. It was a typical reaction to those of a more secular nature. As much as a church could be a home and haven to some, it represented a place of unwelcome to many. She wished all who felt that way could know that all children of God had a refuge on this soil. Yet her mind had to focus on that one soul for the time being.
'How can I help you my friend?'� The man smiled wide, with only his lips.
'Reverend I am so sorry to bother you at this late hour. Let me donate to your cause.'� He dropped a chunk of gold and a few coppers into a small silver plate the sat next to the door. The reverend giggled.
'Thank you for your patronage, but you just put your donation into the bread plate.'� His bright teeth showed as he chuckled and reached toward the plate. His hand hung there for a moment as he considered removing the donation. His face showed relief when she spoke.
'Don't worry about it. It is not so sacred as to be feared. It's only a plate that carries mere bread. The magic is the congregation not the ornament.'� Noel did not correct the reverend. She would figure the mistake of that claim in good time.
It took him only a few moments sitting next to the fire to begin his story. It poured out of him like a confession. The reverend had heard many a sin accounted for in her service to the higher powers, but no story like this. It was not a confession to be exact, because he had not sinned. Yet, the spirits of the darkness damned were in pursuit of him. He had had a bond with demons, and they were coming to claim their prize.
She was shivering when his story finished. He had shown her the scars. She had noticed the way his shadow danced unlike the others in the room. She asked to examine his face, but he said she was not ready. Having tried to do so himself, he found that basking in is own image was a luxury of vanity he was no longer afforded.
So after all the exposition he came to his true, sinister reason for being there.
'I have tried all the methods of a hundred shaman, witches and alchemists. I have paid for their silence, but got a good price, because they feared reprisal. I have come to you now to ask you to take care of my problem.'�
'What do you mean? You can't be serious. I can't destroy you. It's against my faith.'�
'But you serve the light. I am your enemy.'�
'You are not this thing. You are Nicholas Noel. You can control it.'�
'My holy lady, I mean no disrespect, but you do not know what you speak of in the least. Twenty years I have searched. Across the sands, mountains and jungles. Look at me.'� She stared at his youthful and perfect complexion. 'I am losing this battle. Eternity will defeat me in the end. There are more. And when they find me... I will turn completely. You of all people know how a group can influence a single mind.'� She took offense to the comment, but she knew he was right.
'I would do it myself, but I am'� what I understand, as mandate of many faiths, is that suicide is evil. I have been damned enough with this, I need no more points of evil alignment.'�
'Why not seek a hero or slayer for this job? Why me?'�
'I seek a righteous end to my struggle. I have traveled throughout the land. Your wisdom and valor are known to me. I can trust you will give me the best chance for redemption.'�
'What are you planning?'� She hardly believed the words could slip out.
'I need for my existence to end.'�
'I can not take a life!'� She sputtered. The word 'life' echoed through the chamber.

The snow began to fall. Noel became concerned. If this snow covered his tracks he could be wandering the North Realm for eternity, backtracking. When he was young, he was forced to walk home from school in the winter. Having lost his cloak earlier, the journey was very cold. Arriving home his lips were blue and his mother spent the better part of an hour heating him back up with broth and milk. For hours, his fingers and toes tingled. The frost bite almost sounded inviting now, yet then he realized his aversion to the concept of 'bite' and he continued to frown.
Then he began to hear quiet voices on the wind. He had been hearing voices for many years now so this did not disturb him. They were surprisingly sweet voices. Usually he heard only scratchy whispers or faint screams of terror. The woeful curse of being part of a hive minded race. These oddly pleasant voices renewed his spirits for the moment, so he pressed on at faster pace.
He could keep up at full pace for hours, but why expend the concentration. No matter how fast he drove, there would be snow and night behind him and snow and night in front. He could see just fine in this dark. Of course, there was nothing much to see. Except the Northern Lights. The lights inspired his locomotion at the beginning of the trek, but now they seemed to mock him. He swore they were drifting away from him, because he seemed to get no closer, no matter how far he walked.
The voices continued to grow in pleasantness and volume as he pressed on. He imagined that the closer he got to the lights the closer he moved toward the voices. After a few more hours of walking, he knew for a fact this was true. He grew afraid, for the first time in a long time.
His head had hung despairingly for a long while. He felt himself pulled toward the imagined sounds, though he knew they were all in his mind. Well aware that the sun might not rise in that part of the world for a few weeks, he still felt the first throws of anticipation overwhelm him. It would be a long wait, but well worth it. In his elation he swore he saw the first crack of dawn. Yet the dawn hung vertically in the sky.
His inhumanly acute eyes realized immediately that this was no mirage in a snow swept desert. The light was true, as were the sound emanating through it. He looked up at the sky for the first time in hours, maybe days. There, the Northern light hovered in all their glory. He stared in wonder and knelt in a sort of praise, for a very long time. It was never his belief that these strange lights had a source. His best guess was gases caught in the stratosphere. Yet now the anomaly was unfolded before him. Of course there were no answers now, only questions. Suddenly, a feeling swept over him he had not known in a decade, hope.
The tall mountain was obsidian in hue. The colored lights caught in subtle reflections of its ice polished face. The fissure at the center was bright white. Light spooned and heat poured pout of it. If the mountain was her legs, there was no doubt what the fissure was in this strange phallic scenario. Mad with boredom and desperate to gaze upon anything that was not snow, Nicholas Noel rushed toward the cave and toward his destiny.
The cave was not long at all, but by the time he reached the end of the path Noel had slipped off all of his cold weather gear, not that he needed it, but he desired to be in as much comfort as possible when he evaporated, or at least that was what he and the priest assumed he would do.
His eyes adjusted quickly, as usual, but what he saw blinded his mind's eye. Eden'� Shangri La'� Impossible, but the only explanation was from fairy tale. This mountain had a valley beneath it; a rich, vast valley with a lake of the purest blue. Birds of countless colors flocked around him, fearless and curious. He lowered himself to the ground and relaxed, content to sit there and die in awe, until the hallucination he was obviously having passed. He sat for a great while before he heard the bell.
The bell rang and the beasts throughout the valley scurried. He was sure the only beast still roaming was the giant horse with the golden horn. Noel was not surprised. That beast need not fear anything. He heard the chariot approaching, but remained still. Misery began to overcome Noel as he realized that a human may dwell there. Of course misery loves company, and he was anxious to speak to another.
The chariot was glorious; its wheels were half the height of a man, made of thick oak and silver-lined steel. Noel noticed a series of contraptions attached to the axels. In some way, they must have accounted for the chariot's fluid, yet fast, movement. It was drawn by eight magnificent steeds, each with a pair of ornamented antlers.
The man that stepped down from the wagon was possibly the tallest man Noel had ever seen. There was no question that he was the largest. The man in the red cloak had shoulders as wide as those of the white bears Noel had seen as he made his way across the tundra. The mammoth man's legs were as thick as timbers, as were his arms. Upon his head was long, white hair that matched his long, white beard, which hung to a silver buckle on his black belt. The beard did not hide the sled-rider's enormous belly, which, on any other person's frame, would have been the pinnacle of obesity. Noel could smell the sweet scent of cakes and food on the man. It had been many years since Noel had enjoyed the taste of sweets. Perhaps the long walk across the cold, odorless, lightless, desert had left him with a longing for any sensation.
The man and his great silver axe approached Noel briskly and quickly cast his shadow all around him. He reached out a thick hand. Noel hesitated, but he desired contact so much that he met the man's grasp with excitement. With a great smile the saint began his introduction.
'It is my guess, young friend, that you are lost.'� He chuckled heavily. 'Of course, I can't imagine you getting here without quite a bit of prior knowledge and an incredible deal of luck.'�
'I am certainly lost sir, but that was my intent.'� The man looked with astonishment at Noel's comment, but quickly smiled.
'If that is the case my friend, you definitely needed to find this place. I was lost as well when I came here. Of course I was looking for this place. What were you looking for?'�
'Nothing.'� Noel said dryly. Some strange force came over Noel. A sense of ease. Odd. Uncomfortable. Whatever it was, it felt right. Noel felt a bond with this man in red. Something fatherly and brotherly. Perhaps this man could have been Noel's mentor, had they met in the normal world. Of course, the normal world was far from that place.
'I'm sorry to tell you, that you have found a great something. Who knows though? Perhaps we have some nothing lying about that we could give you.'� The man in red laughed. Noel found himself also laughing at the silly joke. For a moment Noel believed he may actually be happy, but then the crowd began to arrive.
They were a beautiful group. Nearly fifty in all. They were of all different skin tones and features. Noel had never seen hair so varied in textures and colors, some of them quite unnatural. They smelled of great food and clean air. His mouth watered as his heart sank. Why did he have to find such a beautiful place? Noel wanted to live. For the first time in nearly two decades, he wanted to live.
The chariot driver read the torment on the younger mans face, even as Noel tried to hide it. Softly, he grabbed Noel's shoulder. 'Don't fear, they will not judge you. They are here for the same reason you are.'� Noel's gaze turned perplexed. 'They are seeking answers, safety, love, community, and meaning. Like all great beings. It takes patience, plenty of time and energy I tell you. Of course, we have that in abundance here.'� A great laugh erupted. The laugh incited the same response from the new onlookers. Noel eyed them all suspiciously. Perhaps he had stepped through into purgatory. Perhaps his penance was a life in a land of eternal sun, with countless, small statured innocents to tempt him and a warrior with a great silver axe to terrify him. A sweet, deep voice of reason broke Noel's thoughts. 'Please, join us for a while, perhaps we can help.'� Noel realized the potential for disaster that this place represented, but he cringed at the though of more dark days on the desolate ice and realized he did not have the will to leave this place. Not yet he didn't.
'I appreciate your hospitality sir. I swear I will not offend it. My name is Nicholas Noel, and I am at your service.'� Noel Bowed deeply.
'You are man of refinement or so it seems,'� with a deep chuckle, 'I welcome you to this place. Call it what you like, all my children seem to have a different word for it. They have different names for me as well. Of course, considering you native tongue, I'll introduce myself to you as Kristopher Kringle.'�
Kringle drove the chariot slowly as he told Noel what little he knew of that magical place. It seemed that the strange ice formation trapped and reflected star light in a way that allowed the small valley to always be illuminated. 'I came here by accident myself.'� Kringle winked. 'I was getting old. I was still quite a formidable lord, mind you, yet I saw all the old men around me weakening, getting feeble and paranoid. Who could blame them though, seeing how the young men coveted their power? The day came when I decided to undergo a quest. One I assumed would last to the end of my life. I left my castle and began riding. I had no idea what adventure I was in for. After many months of searching, I saw the Northern Lights. At that point, I had been wandering around the land helping the needy. It seemed righteous enough, but a yearning for adventure had grown inside of me. I spent a few days doing nothing but staring at them. Finally, I decided that discovering the magic that made them would be my goal. I got together a ship and a party of courageous people and began my trek to the North. Now, when we arrived at these ice fields, there were large poles of red and white all across the white planes. On them were inscriptions directing all travelers to this place. They were not in any language I knew, but they were simple to understand. Unfortunately, the journey to the interior of this place is not simple at all, but this is well known to you.'� Noel nodded with absolute intrigue on his face. 'By the time the last of my party fell dead, I had long wished I had stayed in the South doing good deeds. It is only when you face death, do you realize what is important in life. I hope you understand?'�
' I do good sir. Truly.'� Noel spoke low, his glazed eyes turned to the ground. Kringle realized immediately that this young man had seen death, in some way. Now rushing to embrace it, Noel had lost himself on the end of the earth. 'Please continue Master Kringle.'�
'Of course Nicholas, but please do not call by any name of proper address. I am Kristopher, or Kringle, or some variation. Whatever pleases you, but I have some trouble keeping my little friends from exalting me as it is.'�
'I was a lord of sorts, in my old life, sir. I understand greatly your aversion to titles and pretense.'� Kringle laughed loudly. All of his little friends joined in, though Noel was sure they had not heard what was said, but this man's laugh was infectious. Noel soon began to giggle at the sound of it, in much the same way Kringle's flock would.
'Finally, the last traveler left, I arrived at the cave. I thought I had died and reached Heaven. As I dove into the warmth, I could feel the few areas of my flesh not destroyed by the ice, tingling. I knew I was not dead, but I was wishing I were. I have seen many cases of frost bite. In my younger arrogance, I thought myself immune.'� He chortled softly. 'Thirsty and stumbling I made my way toward the lake. So parched, in fact, I did not notice where I had entered. Stumbling across this valley, peeling my clothes off, I finally made it to the water. It was warm, everywhere. Basking for a good while, I remembered one of the rules of frost bite. Be wary of hot water. It still scalds frozen flesh. I jumped up, surprisingly spry. Looking upon my body, I could see the blue-gray patches were gone, only healthy pink flesh. Miraculously, a finger tip that had snapped off in the tundra, had regrown. In an awe inspired daze, I began to walk the valley, naked.'� He chuckled. 'The things I saw. The mythical beasts long thought extinct. The plants, like none I had ever seen. There were buildings here, yet no people occupied them. I wondered what would drive anyone to leave this place. For me, it was loneliness.'�
'You are saying you left here and returned.'�
'Oh many times Nicholas. Countless times, just to remove the poles with the strange markings. I left them for a great while, hoping to lead others here. Once of course these fine folks arrived, I decided this place must remain secret.'�
'How did you survive the cold?'�
'The same way I conquered it when I arrived. The water.'�
They arrived at the lake and Kringle pulled the reigns. Noel, almost in a trance, began to move toward the beautiful, blue stillness. Noel noticed the freshness in the air, almost as if he was smelling 'purity'. 'The Holy Water will do you well Noel. Drink some.'� Noel froze and his body spun with super human speed.
'This is Holy Water, you say? Blessed by a priest?'� Kringle chuckled, with a concerned look on his face.
'No cleric has ever blessed it as far as I know, but rest assured no liquid deserves the title more so than this lake.'� Noel hoped Kringle was wrong.
'Would you push me in sir? I know it's an odd request, but it is tradition. As'�um..chi..children, my sister and I used to believe you were safe from drowning if someone pushed you in. Childish, I know, but'� tradition.'� Kringle giggled like a person of stature one third of his. Then with glee and a stunning quickness he scooped Noel up over his shoulder and leapt off a ledge.
The fall was short and the splash insignificant, but when Noel hit the water, his body felt as if it was crushed. As he broke the surface, sensations like he had never known washed over him. For the first time in many years he was not hungry or thirsty. The blood in his veins was warming. He remembered long ago, when he felt his blood begin to chill. The water was holy, there was no doubt. Of course it did not have the intended affect Noel hoped for, but it was holy without doubt.
'How long have you known of this place.'� Noel asked as he cupped a hand full into his mouth.
'104 years.'� Kringle only had a sinister smile creeping across his face. Noel looked up quizzically, and then smiled.
'You're trying to tell me your 104 years old.'�
'No, Nichols, I am 161 years old. You forget that I found this place when I was a man past my prime.'� Noel peered at the man.
'I believe you, Kristopher Kringle.'� Kringle seemed surprised.
'You worry me, Nicholas Noel. Though I speak the truth, only the feeblest minded of individuals would believe what I claim.'� Noel laughed heartily with Kringle at the comment.
'Good sir, I assure you, though you have me bested for fantastic settings,'� Noel's arms rose into the air and presented his surroundings, 'and you most certainly have aged even better than myself.'� Noel bowed playfully. Kringle playfully bowed back. 'You are not the only person here with a story of inconceivability. Of course, the surprise I have will terrorize the sound mind as well as the feeble.'� Noel leaned down again and drank.
When they were finally alone in Kringle's abode, the elder began telling stories. Kringle kept his axe nearby at all times, at Noel's request. They sat across from one another for many hours and Kringle kept the glasses filled with spirits and the air filled with laughter. The man had amassed 161 years worth of stories. Yet, he soon heard the one to eclipse them all.
Kringle finished his cup and began to pour again. Noel had drunk nothing, yet he swayed as he sat. Kringle knew the young man, of course, he may not have been that young, was inebriated from grief. The older, much older, man had seen it more than a few times in his long life. 'What did the water do to you?'�
'Invigorated me. Quenched my hunger, like no liquid before.'�
'It is why I have lived so long you know? I've not been sick, nor aged a day as long as I have been near it. In fact, I believe it makes me younger, but very slowly. I have not left for five years now, and all of my little friends say I seem to be growing younger. Then again, they are far too gracious toward me.'� He laughed loud for the first time in a while. 'There are a few legends of such a fountain. On my trips out of this place, I used to seek such information. Alas, my trips out are over. At least for a good while.'�
'Why for a while?'�
'Hopefully I'll grow a little younger. You see Nicholas, when we leave here, we begin to age again. All of my little friends were from the Outside World. I brought them here because they were harassed where they lived, by bigger folks. Here they are protected. Forever vibrant. Some have suffered greatly.'� Noel had noticed the small stature of all the inhabitants during the carriage ride to Kringle's hut.
'I would have brought them here because I was lonely.'� Noel's tone was not accusative, but inspective. Kringle let out reserved laugh.
'Ho, ho. You have exposed some of my ulterior motives.'� He continued chuckling. 'After the first few months, I did grow lonely. I never expected to make it back here, but low and behold, the trip became easier as I learned the way. As well, the fine steeds in the valley can drive a sleigh better than any I have encountered.'�
'Yes, those horses were spectacular. I have never seen their like. Your chariot is spectacular as well.
'The Strange Deer are thriving in the Outside World now. I left a few at a ranch about 80 years ago. Now an entire range in the Northlands is home to a few thousand. As for the chariot, those strange metal pieces on the bottom allow me to hook sled attachments to carriage. Quite inventive, but the people of this valley are the most gifted craftsman I have ever known.'� There were a few moments of smiling, then Noel's face grew stern.
'What if one of them decides to leave?'�
'Truth be told, sir, none of them ever has. If that ever became the case, of course, I would see to it that they made it safely to a port, with plenty of silver and gold to aid them.'� Again there was a long silence. Kringle was waiting for Noel to speak and Noel knew it. The silence was awkward, of course, it usually is when a man is about to make a confession.
The story was of a man bitten. The bite became infected, as if there were any medicine to prevent infection from such a bite. A young man began to lose himself and his self control. Forsaking all he knows, he drew away from his beloved family, and left his home. Living on the streets, he survived on the wicked. The thieves and thugs skulking in the darkness for a new victim became the victims themselves.
'I am concerned for the safety of your people. I...I'�brought something'�am something.'�
'No one followed you.'�
'I know sir, but it isn't anyone else that concerns me. It IS me.'� Kringle leaned forward and slid the man a drink. Noel gulped it down without reaction. Kringle's bushy eyebrows lifted as if impressed. 'I am not a normal man. I really don't know if I'm a man at all. Years ago, I've lost count of how many; I was attacked by a woman. At first I thought she was sick. As she leapt onto me, I was sure she was possessed. She howled and snarled. Like a demon.'� He threw down the other drink Kringle slid him. 'She overpowered me with ease. She sunk her teeth into my throat and began gorging herself. To my misfortune, the dawn was nearly upon us and she fled. Soon I became like her.'�
'One day I came upon a young man helping a woman fend off three men. The brutes overpowered them both. The bastards prepared to reap their reward from them when I arrived. Dispatching those animals was easy for one of my'�abilities. It was not the first time I saved those in trouble. In truth it was what kept me going. It gave me hope. Lifted my dark spirit. The man and I recognized one another. Helping the woman up, he said, 'Thank you again sir. Two times your mercy has spared me. How can I repay you?'
'Help this woman. Help any who need you.' With that I fled. I remembered that young man. Years before I had caught him and his gang assaulting a family. Needless to say, I was not entirely merciful. Of course, the boy was very young and at the influence of ruffians. My calmer self prevailed. 'Away now, boy.' I snarled. 'You best embrace righteousness by the next time we meet. Or you too will be my feast.' I laughed as he ran, his pants wet and soiled.'� Kringle cracked up. 'Then something painful occurred to me,'� Noels tone became very hushed, 'perhaps if I'd have given every person the same chance. Perhaps I could have aided humanity on a greater scale. I let my hunger dictate to me how to dispense justice. I thought I served two kinds of good, myself and mankind; but in truth, I served only myself and allowed my assumed serving of man kind to relieve my doubts.'� Noel looked up and Kringle saw the red tears. The old man wept himself. 'No more killing, I swore it up and down. Of course, hunger knows no remorse.'�
'So you began trying to find away to destroy yourself.'�
'I actually attempted it from the beginning, but my body would not let me rush into the sunlight. It instinctively moved toward the shadows as day breaks. I took it as some kind of sign. I thought of other methods constantly, but as a boy, my parents taught me that suicide was a sin. I don't know if I believed that, but considering what I was, I had no desire to anger any of the gods. Thus, a search for a priest began. When I found her, she refused to destroy me. She had an aversion to murder. I, of course, empathized utterly. We tried countless cures; some seminal and some occult. None worked. I gave up when we began to fall in love. I fled. As it happened, much later, I learned of the Northern Lights and the North Pole. I charted a ship, which brought me to the ice and then began walking.
'I know of what you speak. In my search for the legends of this valley, I came upon the legends of dark things as well.'�
'My studies indicate to me, sunlight and silver are all that can destroy me.'� They both gazed over at the great axe, which loomed with in reach of Kringle's hands.
'You were waiting for the long sunrise!'� Kringle said with an air of pride in his deduction.
'It was the way that felt the least like suicide.'�
'My faith always denounced suicide as well, but some do not. Especially, if it is with noble intent.'�
'You see, sir, I have not been noble enough to believe I can get away with it, if it is a sin.'� Noel hung his head, and finished a third drink. They let the silence pass.
'Nicholas,'� Noel looked up, his face wet, 'it is my intent to help you, to give you a home, and to perhaps cure you. For your own piece of mind, I promise to destroy you if you become a threat, but not until that time. As of now, you are one of us.'� Noel smiled brightly, flashing his, shiny, sharp teeth.
As if Noel's nights were not tormenting enough, his nightmares were profoundly worse. Perhaps calling them DAYmares would have been more fitting. The sleep he fell into every morning when the sun broke the horizon was still and lifeless. Yet, his mind rushed back and forth restlessly. He could not stir himself awake under any means. The daymares were actually the shared thoughts of all the beings like himself that had spawned the rest. The ancient Lords of Blood had a mental control of their 'offspring.'� Of course, as those offspring cursed other humans, this control dissipated, but the Lords still had access to the minds of all the poor souls who were linked in that wicked chain. Noel was far down that line. For the most part, he walked unnoticed among his unchosen people.
In still silence, Noel received flashbacks of grizzly murders, strange rituals and hubristic parties where the cups and plates were filled with blood and raw flesh. He would awake calmly to find himself intrigued as to what his contemporary immortals were planning. Of course, he never approached them. Never once tried to follow them to their private, demonic pubs where babies were boiled and bled in sauces of red. It was not their debauchery that turned him the most. The creatures lived in a glorious orgy of wealth, a benefit to their twisted state. They became the mist, at their will. They could take to the sky and climb walls. They could carry great weight. Noel had seen them carry the red sacks over their shoulders, moving, as if visible and weightless across the roof tops. All the power men thirst for, they had cast upon them.
Yet the most outstanding characteristic he saw among them was hopelessness. None of their dreams were of family. They had no true community and were simply a wandering group of nomads. They were jackals, following the ones who infected them as if they knew the path to salvation. Hunger was the worst of their torments. They had all been mortal once. Some spent decades getting over the crunch of the flesh as they dug into their unsuspecting dinner. Salvation was starvation, but no beast could overcome such a ravenous state. The longer they ached to eat, the more horrible the feeding frenzy was that followed.
That is why Noel left the priest, even though he loved her. She would not destroy him. Noel returned the courtesy, but knew he may break one night. She gave him permission to go to the North Pole.
'I do not think I would count this as suicide Nicholas. The Sun is the god of light and life to all people. It will bless you, turning you to cinder.'� The priest wept as she spoke, holding him close. One last time, he thought of biting her, forever binding them. That tragic marriage would have lasted all eternity, barring neither drove a stake through the others heart. Noel pushed the thought away as he drew his lips close to her and kissed all around her neck. Trembling, she lavished him absorbing her smell. She did not resist in the least, but as she stroked his back and ran her hands through his hair she panted, 'Please, I am a priest, I can not.'� Obediently he pulled away, kissed her hands and left.
The priest danced in his dreams that night, on top of the Northern Lights, on top of the earth. No dream had been his own in two decades. The moon moved in the sky. It became his mirror. He felt himself reflect back on the world all his joy. Having found a cure for his hunger, his mind was free. He had found a home, a glorious place, where he could walk in light like the day. It grew flowers and heated the animals and glistened on the lake, yet did not dissolve his form. All was righteous, wonderful and transcended. As his joyful face reflected off the moon of his dream world, he began to notice something about the little world below. It had red eyes, hundreds, maybe thousands of little red eyes. And they were all looking back at him.
Noel awoke screaming for the first time since he was a boy. Kringle's lantern lit up the other room. Noel heard the large silver axe being lifted off the mantle of Kringle's immense fire place, built to that size, so the man himself could go inside and 'scrape it out properlike'�. Before he went on to become a knight, a duke and a saint, Kringle was a chimney sweep as a boy. It helped him to make money for his very poor family.
'All you all right my old child?'� The immense man said playfully as he entered the room with the lantern if front of him and the axe over his right shoulder
'Lord Kringle, I believe I may have done something.'�
'What my child?'� Noel began to weep.
'I'll never forgive myself.'� Kringle kneeled beside sad nobleman.
'But I will forgive you. Just please tell me the truth.'�
'My dreams. They are never my own. I always watch those of the others like me. Tonight though, I created my own dream, and it was magnificent. So magnificent, that those whose dreams I saw finally got to see mine. I dreamed of this place. How I got here. What'�who is here. Doom may be on its way. I must flee; perhaps I can lead them away. Noel leapt up, only to find the handle of that axe stretched across the width of the great doorway he intended to leave through.
'I would expect more patience from one of your age. We must learn what they know. You will return to bed. I will sit vigil next to you. I should have told you that the dreams here are very vivid and easy to control. You can reenter the dream worlds as a wraith much like you were before. Of course, I do not envy you. I was having a wonderful dream about two healthy maidens and a basket of sugar plums.'� Both erupted into laughter.
Noel's shadow-walk through the dream worlds would be taxingly long and often for the next seven months. All the dark immortals in creation began to move northward converging on the quiet frozen ports of the Northland. It was sad that Noel had come to the North Pole with just a few weeks of dark left. No one was quite sure exactly when the months of Sun would begin. The others of his curse gained the knowledge of the solar anomaly and planned their arrival as soon as darkness had settled again. Fortunately for the dwellers of that magical valley, Noel and Kringle knew far in advance what to prepare for. The others became suspicious after a while. Having searched so hard for the dreams of this stranger, who changed the nighttime world so drastically, they began hiding their dreams. Of course, the closer they got to the North Pole, the harder it became. The same did not apply to Noel, who was safe beneath the light of a Sun that did not exist.
When the army of the damned reached the glacier shores, they did not even stop to build a camp. Utterly ravenous, they made their ways across the tundra in all directions. The inhabitants of the valley anxiously awaited their first visitor.
When she finally arrived, she charged the cavern, the smell of sweet life baiting her toward the light. She met a swift stroke of Kringle's axe. The next four to arrive received the same fate. The next three after that, Noel caught outside the entrance in the night. With the aid of his silver hammer and his silver coated fingernails.
The craftsmen in the valley were quite adept at silver work. Seeing how their crafts and merriment were all that those in the valley were really ever concerned with was to their benefit, not to mention their longevity complimented their handiwork many times over. Having spent many months building the contraptions and accoutrements for battle had not made them warriors. Kringle's heart broke knowing what he may have to ask of his small friends. Seeing them work tirelessly to save one another and the valley doubled his resolve.
Soon, the wiser vampires decide to rest and share there the knowledge of the group among them. It took a few nights/days, but soon, they began to organize the search. They began to pick up the trails of those who had disappeared. In a horde, one and a half thousand deep, they began to move toward the valley. When they arrived at the gate, they kept their distance. The leaders were savvy and some were ancient. Their instincts were supernatural by that point in their twisted existence. Their hesitance was what the defenders of the approaching onslaught sorely hoped for.
There was a great deal of noise and commotion. The beasts knew the sounds of automation, but these were distinct. A humming. A buzzing. A twing. Suddenly, the light of the cave began to reflect a glorious sparkling rain. One and a half thousand red eyes looked up in awe. Then they heard the rush of the air as the countless silver arrows rained down upon them.
Soon, the arrows were exhausted. Most of the vampires laid impaled, their burning corpses lit the snow as far as the eye could see. Kringle began ordering back his people. They took refuge in the hills around the entrance, regrouped, then rearmed. Noel and Kringle expected the second wave to be the most cunning and terrible of the beasts. Tragically, they were correct.
As the last few hundred vampires on earth poured into the valley, they were met by more arrows. Many hit their marks. Many did not. That was why Kringle and Noel stood at the entrance. Noel was probably not the most powerful among the creatures, but they were starved. Their motion was rapid and confused; Noel dispatched any that came near him with ease. Kringle's axe only needed one swing to drop three at a time. Disoriented by the arrows, he cleaved three dozen before he and Noel lost sight of one another. Soon, vampires brandishing spears and swords arrived. This final, terrible wave of Masters was comprised of those who began all the lines of vampires. When they were finally destroyed, Noel hoped that there was truth to the legend that killing the head of the vampire family would reverse the curse. Unfortunately, this was not the case. As Noel scanned the battlefield, he looked for that last one; the one that was the true leader. But his senses told him that none remained; not in that valley, not one on the face of the earth, except him. Then he saw Kringle.
The great man lay on his back with three blades in his gut, and spear through his shoulder. Noel rushed to him and knelt.
'Sir, I beg your forgiveness. Fear not I will get you to the lake.'� Noel's voice was panicked. Noel prepared to pick the saint up, when the white haired man reached up to him and struggled to speak.
'Nicholas, I have been bitten.'� Tears rolled down Noel's face.
'No, no'�the lake will cure it, don't you think? It may have not taken effect yet.'�
'I dare not risk it. I've lived long enough Nicholas. My time has come. It was battle that brought me fortune as a young man, and it has destroyed me as an old one. I am just glad I had forsaken when I did.'� Kringle gasped. Noel cradled him close. 'They are your children now, Nicholas. That is your duty now. You will redeem yourself in their eyes and in your own if you take this charge.'� Noel voice broke.
'And in your eyes sir?'�
'You were always quite fine in my eyes. And don't call me sir. Pretense, I hate it so. Call me'�something respectable. Ho, ho...ho'�'� Kringle leaned back his had and closed his eyes.'� Noel wept for a long time. While he did so, the children of the valley gathered round him, weeping themselves. Finally, Noel rose. On his face was the bright, sharp smile, Kringle constantly complemented.
'Fine old man. No pretentious title for you. I will grant you one of which you are deserving.'� Standing up, he faced the crowd. They moved back from him. He had exposed what he was to them in that battle. Kringle and Noel had taken great care to hide the secret from them until they were ready or until there was no choice. 'Father has passed. Father has asked me to be your steward from here on. I will never be the great saint he was, but I will try to follow his example. If you are angry with me, I understand. No forgiveness is ever expected from you, because I will never forgive myself. This man told me of his legacy in this place and the Outside World. It is my hope that I can honor that legacy across the Earth. If you ever want me to leave here, I shall go. If you ever want my head I shall surrender it.'� Noel picked up the great axe and held it up. 'Take your time. Give it thought. I will clean this battlefield myself. For twelve days, as is the ancient custom of my people, we will feast and celebrate the life of Kristopher Kringle. After that time, I am at your whim.'� With that, Noel dropped the axe, lifted Kringle's body and carried it toward the hut they had shared since his arrival.
So, Noel took on Kringle's charge. Interestingly enough, he also took on some of Kringle's old habits. The stories that the infinitely young people of the valley told of Kringle's good will moved Noel. He decided that he would also begin traveling to the Outside World to do good deeds. Since he was a genuine immortal, it was assured that he would be able to perform those actions indefinitely. Noel's enhanced strength and endurance were assets that allowed him to surpass Kringle's efforts in the physical aspect. Surprisingly, and very much to Noels satisfaction, he did not replace, tarnish nor impede on Kringle's legacy. In fact, as time went on, their incomparable individual legends seem to grow into one fantastic, fairy tale.
As time passed, many of the inhabitants of the valley decide to move on. With Noel's assistance, they would journey to the Outside World, loaded with silver, gem and stories too fantastic to believe. Yet, when these tales would mix in with the strange events that began happening around the world, the stories caught on. Kringle was already quite a legend in a few parts of the world. Even years after his last visit, the people that Kringle blessed with his kindness, still awaited his return. Of course, Noel did not use Kringle's direct approach; riding into town on sleigh or wagon with a cart full of food, gifts, toys and medicines made from the magic water. Noel had to be subversive. His powers were too strange, for one thing. For another, he found he could assist people more effectively by using stealth.
Noel was notorious for being caught coming down chimneys. His ability to turn into mist made moving through flues a very simple task. Humorously, many thought it was Kringle climbing down. Noel always found it quite humorous that a man of Kringle's girth ever attempting to fit into a regular chimney. But that was the fun of the legend.
Those who had moved on from the valley spoke of Noel as dark, noble figure. The legend of his silver tipped fingers earned him the name 'Satan's Claws.'� As time passed though and his countless good deeds began to amass, the name changed to a more fitting Saint Klaus.
People began to notice that Noel arrived only at certain times of the year. They took this as some sort of ritual. In truth, he spent half the year traveling the world, and the other half in the valley preparing. His pattern actually coordinated with the six month days and nights of the North Pole. For the sake of efficiency, he experimented with many paths from place to place. Once he found the one that worked, he stuck to it. Soon the trails were second nature to him and he had his arrival down nearly to the day.
Yet, for all the joy he brings surprise mirth to the world, Noel knew his duty must be two fold. In every town, there are kind and there are wicked. Kringle had agents across every land who informed him of cruelty and oppression. They kept lists of who was negligent and who was needy. So after he put silver in the stocking of a farmer whose crop failed, or books under the bed of children who needed to be educated, he made his way to were the wicked were. His wrath was swift. They always put up a fight and rarely repented. One greedy man, who Kringle call Eb, took three hours to bring around, but after that, he honored the holy season and kept it in his heart all the year.
Others who did not repent suffered. A powerful duke would not share his coal with his serfs. During that winter, half of the children died from the cold. Noel heard of this, and decided that a special justice needed to be delivered. The next day, the house servants arrived to find the duke naked and shivering. Every thing in his house had been taken, including the signature to give the land to the people. All he had in his hand when they found him was one lump of coal.
The valley always remained Noel's home. Those who left were soon replaced. The new arrivals were taught the skills necessary to construct the potions and handicrafts that the righteous folk of the Outside World received. They were kept busy, but no one was forced. They lived in such bliss, sharing it seemed only fair.
On his first trip to the Outside World, Noel went to the priest. After telling her what had transpired, he asked her to return with him. She would only accept, if she was his wife. In the valley, there was another priest from a very old sect. He blessed their union and named them Father and Mother Holiday, in honor of Kringle. Though she could rarely leave the valley, the priest enjoyed a few adventures with her husband. Of course, her greatest glory was being the sister and stewardess of the land with the false Sun.
Nicholas Noel still roams the Earth, following in the footsteps of his mentor. In cold, silent darkness he brings hope and light. Nice children revere him, leaving food by the fireside for the plump man to eat. Naughty, spoiled children detest him, knowing he will steal their toys and give them to the more deserving. The wicked men fear him all together. Knowing that in the shadows, a silent knight lies in waiting. For when the time of year comes, if their names appear on the evil list, retribution will be delivered. So the people know to be good, for goodness sake. If not, for their sake alone.

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