A Krampus Country Christmas: Day 21

 

Chapter 21: The Trial of Krampus

There are many punishments a creature like me can face. Fire. Chains. Exile.
But none compare to the one I feared most: Judgment from the Red Forest.

The Keeper towered above us — antlers scraping the glowing canopy, breath a furnace of ancient winter. Its eyes burned like molten runes, seeing everything: my form, my failures, my hesitation, my hopes. And worst of all, my heart. Mortals talk about their hearts breaking. Demons don’t. Not because we’re immune, but because we don’t survive it when it happens.

Tonight, I would test that theory.

The Keeper’s voice cracked the world around us:

“KRAMPUS, WHY DO YOU SHIELD THE BOY?”

I stepped forward, claws sinking into the glowing soil. Holly gasped behind me. Max held her hand, trembling. I should have been terrified. Instead, I felt only a sharp, painful clarity.

“I shield him,” I said, “because he is not wicked.”

“HE IS NAUGHTY.”

“Naughty,” I growled, “is not wicked.”

The forest shuddered at my tone — a ripple of shock or offense, I couldn’t tell. My chains rattled at my waist, reacting to my rebellion.

“You made the list flawed,” the Keeper boomed. “And in doing so, you sever your loyalty.”

I lifted my chin. “If loyalty demands harming the innocent, then I sever it gladly.”

Holly whispered, “Nick…”

The Keeper turned its gaze toward her. Something primal surged through me.

“Don’t you look at her,” I snarled.

The creature paused. Then:

“THE MORTAL WOMAN. HOLLY WINTERS. SHE HAS CHANGED YOU.”

My body trembled not with fear, but with the truth of The Keeper’s assessment.

“Yes,” I admitted, voice low. “She has.”

Silence deepened. Even the floating embers froze in place. The Keeper leaned so close I felt its breath scorch through my fur.

“THEN FACE THE TRIAL, KRAMPUS. IF YOU FAIL… SHE WILL PAY THE PRICE.”

Holly gasped. Max grabbed her tightly. I bared my fangs. “NO.”

But the ground cracked open beneath me before I could move.

 fell.

Not physically since falling in the Red Forest is not a matter of distance. It’s a matter of memory. The world blurred, twisted, dissolved. Suddenly I was standing in a place I had not seen for centuries. My training grounds.

The Pit of Obedience.

Where young Krampuses were shaped into tools.

Flames crackled along familiar stone. Shadows danced like old ghosts.

And at the center stood me. A younger version, snarling, fierce, unscarred by doubt.

“Pathetic,” Younger Me said, sneering. “You’ve forgotten who you are.”

“I haven’t,” I replied.

“You hesitate. You care. You protect. Worst of all, you love.”

Each accusation stabbed deeper.

Younger Me circled, tail lashing like a whip. “We are not meant to love. We are meant to frighten. To punish. To take.”

I clenched my fists. “I refuse that destiny.”

“You don’t get to refuse,” he snapped. “You were built for obedience.”

“No,” I said softly. “I was built for justice.”

He lunged. I barely had time to raise my arms. Claws clashed. Chains whipped. The world shook with the force of our collision. He was faster. Stronger. Unburdened by self-doubt. But self-doubt is not always weakness. Sometimes it is conscience.

He roared, “You’re losing your edge.”

“I’m gaining purpose.”

He swung — massive, brutal. I ducked, letting the blow shatter stone behind me.

“You protect mortals!” he snarled.

“I protect what I love.”

His eyes flashed with fury. “You can’t love, fool! You are a demon!”

I met his gaze, unflinching.

“Then explain,” I whispered, “why she makes me want to change.”

He faltered. Just for a breath. Just long enough. I grabbed the chain at my waist and lashed it outward. It wrapped around him — around me — binding us in a single loop.

He roared, thrashing. “TRAITOR!”

“No,” I said, voice steady. “Guardian.”

And with all my strength, I pulled. Light exploded. The younger version of me dissolved — screaming, resisting, then finally shattering like an ember burned out. When the light faded, the chain fell limp at my feet, cold as snow.

I was alone, exhausted and bleeding. But standing. A whisper drifted through the void, old as time:

“THE FIRST TRIAL… IS PASSED.”

I exhaled shakily.

“One trial?” I muttered. “How many are there?”

And from somewhere above me in the real forest I heard Holly cry out my name. The sound tore through every part of me. I lifted my head.

“Whatever the rest are,” I growled, “I will pass them.”

For them.

My new comedic sci-fi novel, Someone Else's Book Club, is available on my website or through Amazon!