Chapter One
The Naughty List. The large, heavy, leatherbound book landed on Nick Bari’s desk with a thud. He updated the folio every year based on the Yearweave tapestry in the great hall. Reflecting the goodness in the world, it used to be bright and vibrant, but every time he walked past it, it seemed grayer, darker. The blame sat squarely on his shoulders. His fifth year as Santa Claus and already his world was in crisis.

Sitting in his office in the North Pole, with a view of the Northern Lights and Hearthvale, the town surrounding his headquarters, he should have been calm. A blanket of snow covered the trees and rooftops. Strings of twinkling lights decorated the eaves of each of the buildings lining Main Street, casting the town in a warm glow. Candy cane lampposts draped in garlands studded with berries stood in front of each of the buildings, and the large pine tree in the center was decorated for Christmas, year round. He spotted two teams of elves in the middle of a game of hockey. He’d give anything to be down there with them.

“Hate to pile on, but that list was due last week,” his assistant Martha said as she breezed into his office.

Martha had worked for his dad, the previous Santa Claus, and still looked twenty, even though she was closer to 900. Back then, she’d always given him warm chocolate-chip cookies when she saw him.

“It’s not easy,” he replied. Once a name was added to the Naughty List, it was close to impossible to remove. The book didn’t judge. It bound.

The Naughty List wasn’t Nick’s moral record, more a living artifact of the Yearweave tied to the fabric of individual choice, repentance, and self-redemption. When someone acted selfishly or cruelly, their thread in the Yearweave darkened. Nick had no choice but to inscribe their name on the Naughty List, and that meant they belonged to Krampus.

Krampus was the other side of Christmas—the darkness to Santa’s light. Where Nick Bari worked through wonder and reward, Pete Krampus enforced accountability through fear. He was no monster under the bed, more like the season’s harsh truth: choices had consequences. The problem wasn’t that Krampus existed, it was that if Krampus ever took over, the world would be a darker place. Christmas would stop being magic and become punishment, dooming mortals to a life of fear and shame. And Nick was all too aware that if he didn’t find a wife by Christmas Eve he couldn’t continue being Santa Claus, and then Krampus would almost certainly take over.
Nick sighed and turned back to the list. There were more names than ever to be added. A familiar one danced in front of his eyes.

Cora Quill.

The so-called Queen of Christmas—and his old boss in the mortal realm. She ran the extremely successful Winter Wonderland in Pine Falls, Vermont. Sharing on their socials her must-haves for the season, she predicted which toys kids begged to unwrap first on Christmas morning, which decorations the most stylish homes would have on their Christmas trees, and the latest trendy holiday beverage everyone would be ordering.

You’d think she’d be at the top of the Nice List, but no. The toy she championed last year broke following anything but the gentlest handling, and he’d sipped on too many of the trendy mocha marshmallow lattes children left out for him on Christmas Eve. He was lucky he hadn’t developed diabetes.

Santa Claus might be next on her chopping block. Too jolly, too red, too traditional. She was a big one for pushing “new” and that meant something she could monetize, which had led to a massive dust up between the two of them.

As soon as she’d taken over, Quill had immediately given top spot to one sponsor—Next Gen— featuring toys that did everything for a child instead of teaching them to learn and grow: The Wonder Dome, an over-stimulating, virtual-world experience that mesmerized children, no need to go outside or move their bodies; then there was the Buddy Bot which essentially functioned as an AI babysitter. Cora’s Winter Wonderland had a massive impact, creating a desire in young children for more, more, more, teaching them that happiness can only be found by purchasing her it toy. She sowed seeds of discontent, which contributed to the lowering of Gold Lumen in the Magic Coffers. The Yearweave ran on Lumen—magic born from human wonder and kindness. Belief created Lumen and Lumen sustained his home in Hearthvale and the realms of the other Legendaries.
He’d voiced his objection about her new policy at the Winter Wonderland. She’d fired him.

Fired the toymaker.
A man with decades of experience as well as training and skills handed down in his family since the first Nicholas Bari, the original St. Nick, started delivering gifts to children back in 270 CE. He’d been insulted and, frankly, five years later, was still ticked off about the one-line email she’d sent him.

To: Nick@NickBariToys.com

From: C.Quill@WinterWonderlandLLC.com

Subject: I regret to inform you

That you are no longer required as a vendor at Winter Wonderland.

Shaking off the memory, he looked down at the heavy tome on his desk. Was he going to add her to the Naughty List?


He hesitated over Cora’s name. Her knot on the tapestry was a tangled mess. He’d kept track of her, hoping she’d change but she’d only gotten more obsessed with rewards—seeing results and using them to power her actions, instead of relying on kindness, honesty, or courage. There was a growing shadow of Black Lumen on the tapestry and Ms. Quill was at the center.

He closed the book and turned to more pressing matters. A wife. A Mrs. Claus.

He’d been on more dates than most men his age. Part of it was the busyness of getting ready for the Christmas season, plus there had been a lot more names being added to the Naughty List in recent years.

The truth was something deeper. Mrs. Claus couldn’t be just any woman. He was going to spend eternity with her once they married and she signed the magical contract. She would become the heart of Christmas. The stakes were enormous; he couldn’t screw up this decision.

Being Santa came with its own responsibilities. One of them was that he had to marry within five years. He’d been in the position for four years and eleven months and was no nearer to finding a wife. Mrs. Claus was the Hearth Anchor. He couldn’t hold the season on his own—the strain was beginning to show in the Naughty List. Without a Mrs. Claus there was no one to soften his judgment and soothe the tangled Yearweave knots back into their rightful place.

He was due to host his fellow Legendaries in two hours to update them on his plan to revive the Christmas spirit. The Legendaries were protectors of magic, guardians of innocents and the keepers of balance. Each season had at least one and they’d presided over their holidays since the beginning of time. Each Legendary had grown and morphed, adjusting with modernity. Some of them, like Nick, were descendants of the original legend, while others like Jack Frost loved their immortality and had always existed.

He had no damn plan at all. His one action item from their summer meeting was to use the True North dating app to get more dates. So, with time running out, he needed to line up some potential matches.

“That look says it all, man.”

Nick glanced up to see Jack Frost leaning indolently against the frame of the portal gateway. His friend’s sudden arrival was a result of the immediate travel that was possible between the North Pole and all of the realms, thanks to the portal.

His best friend was slim and taller than Nick by a few inches. He was rarely seen in anything but bespoke suits, and the state of his hair, which was usually styled, suggested he’d stepped out of a windstorm.

“I wanted to have, at least, an updated profile finished before the meeting.”

“Let me see it.”

Turning his laptop toward Jack, Nick waited.

“‘CEO of a family-owned seasonal business.’ That’s good.”
“Yeah? Figured it got the job done without being obvious.”
“It works. This bit’s not bad: ‘Likes quiet, romantic evenings in front of the fire and long walks in snowy forests.’ But, ‘must love ice hockey?’”
“I can’t spend eternity with someone who doesn’t love the game,” Nick said.

“Fair enough.”
When Jack laughed, Nick knew he was reading the bit about Nick, age ten, getting stuck in a chimney when he was pretending to be Santa. Everyone thought that was a good one.
“You were pathetic when you were trapped in there.”
“You dared me to do it,” Nick said. But the memory was a good one, eliciting a laugh from Nick as he remembered the look on his dad’s face when he’d fished him out.

“Surely someone will click on my profile.”

“Maybe if you weren’t wearing that sweater?”

“What’s wrong? It’s my favorite.”

Jack eyed him. “Let’s get Martha in here. We need a woman’s opinion.”

Nick called Martha, who joined them.

“Mm,” Martha said. “I recommended something more lumbersexual than whatever that is.”

“What even is lumbersexual?”

“Jeans and a plaid shirt,” Jack said. “I think that will work. Go get changed.”

“The Legendaries are due—”

“They’ll understand,” Martha assured him.

Jack just smirked.

Grumbling, he went into his bedroom and changed into his favorite jeans. The denim was worn and showed off his ass perfectly. He added a red and black flannel shirt, rolling up the sleeves to reveal his tattoos. His hair, mustache, and neatly trimmed beard were still chestnut brown—it was only on Christmas Eve that they turned white, and his belly grew big so he could become the image of every child’s storybook Santa Claus.

When he walked back into his office, Jack nodded then glanced at Martha. “Better, right?”

“Definitely. Now you’re hot Santa,” she said.

“Words I never want to hear again,” Nick muttered, but he posed so Jack could take a photo of him.

Jack handed the phone back to Nick. That’s actually … not bad.

As Martha uploaded the photo to his dating profile, Nick noticed that she had … “edited” the text while he was changing, making him sound more enthusiastic about trying new things than he was.

He sighed as Martha hit save and closed the app. “I have to get back to work.”

“I’ll see you at the meeting,” Jack said and disappeared into the portal, presumably heading for his home in Shivervale. Portals connected all the realms in the Yearweave, sort of like trains in the mortal world.

Nick’s phone pinged as messages from the dating app trickled in. From the corner of his eye he saw the Lumen barometer dip even further. Without allowing himself to overthink the situation, he accepted all the potential matches and set up two back-to-back dates for tonight at Frosty Jack’s.
No one could say he hadn’t tried.

He looked down at the Naughty List and decided Cora had earned a place on it. He reached for his pen and inked her name in elegant, curling letters. There. Done. Nick looked up as the head elf from Pine Falls, Vermont emerged through the portal. Buddy rarely visited him, so Nick was immediately on high alert.

“Cora Quill is here to see you,” he said without preamble. “She’s brought you this as a peace offering,” he added nervously, holding out a cup of coffee.

Speak of naughtiness and Cora Quill shall appear.