James reached out—steady, unwavering—and took her hand, looking deep into her eyes, before lifting her from the ground.
His grip was firm, grounding her in the chaos.
"Me with you, Micah. You're stronger than this darkness. Let's finish it—together."
With his strength lending hers, she rose slowly, the storm around them trembling at the shift of energy.
Red embers were fighting to die, but then something shifted. A fire ignited deep within, a surge of raw power she hadn't felt in years. Light exploded from her hands like molten sunlight breaking through a storm with tornado-force winds.
The shadows coiled around her shrieked, twisting and splintering as the pure light seared through them. The demon's terrible wails became screams of agony, the ice around them cracking violently, shards flying in all directions.
Micah collapsed back against James with a sigh. Her eyes were clear now, free, fierce, and blazing with unstoppable light.
The demon was gone, gone for good.
James tightened his hold, a fierce smile breaking through the storm's shadow.
"We did it," he said, his voice filled with awe and pride.
Micah's lips curved into a tired but victorious smile.
"Together," she whispered. "Now let's finish this demon together!"
Micah readied her war fans, which materialized in her hands with a soft chime, glowing brighter than ever before. They felt lighter now, complete.
The snow demon towered before them—an avalanche of jagged limbs and frozen hate. Its breath came in great clouds of frost, eyes glowing like twin blizzards. With a guttural snarl, it lunged.
Micah met the demon head-on.
She moved like fire and wind, her war fans spinning in both hands, trailing arcs of molten light. Each swing sent waves of heat slicing through the cold, melting the snow midair. One fan caught the demon's arm mid-swing, shattering a clawed hand into icy fragments.
James was right beside her, crossbow blazing, every bolt landing with precision. When the demon tried to flank her, he drove a bolt into its knee joint, locking it in place.
Micah vaulted upward, twisting through the air. Her fans flared bright, and she slashed across the demon's shoulder with a spinning strike. Cracks spiderwebbed across its icy hide.
The demon roared, summoning a vortex of snow and wind to throw her back—but Micah's aura flared with golden flames, pushing against the storm itself.
"You don't get to bury me," she growled.
She swept her fans in a wide arc, sending a crescent wave of burning light and wind toward the beast. It struck its chest, splintering a deep crater into its core.
The demon staggered, screeching.
"Now, Micah!" James shouted.
She burst into motion.
A blur of motion, a streak of radiance through the whiteout.
She leapt high, war fans crossing before her, gathering every ounce of energy she had left. The light at their edges surged—white-hot and blinding, brighter than lightning.
As she descended, she shouted with everything in her:
"This ends now!"
The fans slammed down in a perfect X across the demon's chest.
The impact triggered a shockwave of light and sound, rippling across the frozen landscape. The snow demon froze, cracks racing across its massive body. Then—
BOOM.
It shattered—exploding into a million glittering shards, swirling in the air like crystal snowflakes.
And then the storm… stopped.
Silence.
Soft flakes drifted down, harmless and gentle. The wind had lost its bite, and the clouds were parting.
Micah landed hard, knees buckling—but strong arms caught her.
James.
She looked up into his face. Snow dusted his hair, his crossbow lowered.
"You were brilliant," he said, voice low.
She let out a shaky breath, her skin still glowing faintly.
"I feel like myself again."
"Good," he said. "Because I think the world's gonna need that version of you."
They stood there in the soft, falling snow. The storm finally passed, and the battlefield was quiet beneath their feet.
Together.
Victorious.
The snow is finally melting. Slowly at first—dripping from rooftops, trickling down gutters, leaving soft puddles across the school parking lot. By midmorning, the thick storm that had blanketed the town in fear was now just a memory, its heavy clouds retreating beyond the hills like a nightmare lifting with the dawn.
Children filtered out of the school building, blinking into the pale sunlight freshly rising on the horizon. Laughter came softly at first, hesitant, but grew stronger with each passing minute. Someone started a snowball fight near the front steps. Others just stood with their arms out, faces upturned, letting the light warm their skin.
It felt like waking up after a long, strange dream.
Inside, teachers moved briskly but kindly, organizing pickups and calming lingering nerves. Parents began arriving in cars now able to navigate the once-icy roads. The buses rumbled to life, their engines groaning with effort and relief. Sounded like a hopeful melody to our ears.
Micah stood by one of the windows, watching it all unfold. Her breath didn't fog the glass anymore. And warmth was finally returning after days of bitter cold.
"Feels weird, doesn't it?" James asked, stepping up beside her at the window. "How fast everything goes back to normal."
She nodded, eyes thoughtful. "It's like the storm never happened for some of us."
James glanced at her. "But we know that it did."
A small smile curved the side of her lips. "Yeah. We do. I am so overwhelmed with joy to be myself once and for all,"
Outside, Kaysi and Evan were helping some of the younger kids onto a bus, their laughter light, almost careless now. Becky tossed a snowball at Duke, who ducked too late and got a face full of slush. Baby happily teasing Duke.
Peace wasn't something we had to chase or fight for; right now, we could be happy. In this moment settled around them on its own—soft as snowfall, gentle as spring thaw.
Micah stepped away from the glass and toward the door, where the others were gathering.
"I think we've earned a little normal," she said.
James followed her out, the school bell above the door chiming once as it swung open—its sound crisp, clean, and full of promise.
That night, back at home, the Waymakers curled into their beds with a quiet exhaustion. No words were needed. The stillness wrapped around them like a warm quilt—restful, reassuring. For the first time in what felt like days, the house was still.
They rested one by one. Kaysi's breathing slowed as she drifted off, and Becky was on the top bunk, cuddling her stuffed phoenix, which Micah had recently gifted her.
Micah, at her home, curled up in a blanket, let herself sleep without fear.
James sat for a moment, watching the snow melt down the windowpane, before he finally closed his eyes.
Evan lay on his side, blankets pulled to his chin. The warmth was comforting, and I finally felt normal.
His eyes drifted shut just as he began deep sleep, a sound pricked at his ears.
Familiar.
A whisper, just outside the edge of thought.
"Evan…"
Only half asleep, his eyes snapped open.
Silence.
But something lingered in the dark—like a breath against the glass of the top floor window only for a second and was gone.