The Guardian locks his shining golden blade with Frostbite’s icy sword as the two stare intensely at each other, almost as if the weight of their stares could possibly put one over the top and win the contention. Frostbite breaks contact first, stepping backwards but then suddenly lunging forward, jabbing at the Guardian.
The Guardian uses his wings to carry him back, parrying the incoming blow from Frostbite. The pair continue to dual, trading blows. The Guardian catches the Frostbite on a downward blow, swinging his sword upward. The block staggers Frostbite, the Guardian brings his sword back around and swings downward on Frostbite’s head. Cracks form down the left side of the Frostbite’s face before the ice chips blow outward.
Frostbite bellows, staggering backward and clutching his face. Frostbite looks up, his eyes glowing brighter and angrier than ever. Frostbite growls, hurtling forward with a wintery blast, digging his sharp, icy claws into the Guardian’s shoulder, lifting him off of the ground and slamming him into the snow. Frostbite draws his sword back to stab into the Guardian, but at the last moment, the Guardian deflects the stab with a glancing block. Frostbite’s blade still strikes home burying through the Guardian’s golden armor and into the Guardian’s flank. Golden ichor flows from the wound as the Guardian grimaces in pain and gasps for breath. Frostbite withdraws his blade, the Guardian flaps his wings to bring him back to his feet. The Guardian sags, barely able to lift his sword as the golden ichor leaks from his side.
Frostbite advances on the wounded Guardian swinging exaggerated blows as the Guardian weakly deflects the vicious blows, but the Guardian is fading fast. Frostbite is toying with the Guardian now, slashing wildly at the Guardian. The Guardian falls to one knee blocking the repeated blows until finally his strength gives out. The Guardian’s sword falls from his hands and his head bows.
Frostbite raises his blade, ready to strike the killing blow.
Frostbite winces and a flash of light explodes from behind Frostbite. Frostbite is thrown forward. The Guardian with his last reserves of strength grasps his sword and drives his sword through Frostbite’s chest.
“I’ll always come back,” wheezes Frostbite with his dying breath.
“And I’ll always be there,” growls the Guardian through gritted teeth. Frostbite suddenly disentigrates into jagged pieces of ice.
Behind Frostbite stands another angelic figure. Burning red hair sprouts from his head. His upper torso is covered in much less armor than the Guardian, in fact, all he sports are a set of golden shoulder armor plates and a set of golden gauntlets, but the pair have the same wings. A golden bow is clutched in his hand.
“Cupid,” gasps the Guardian.
“It’s okay, brother,” says Cupid, kneeling down next to the Guardian. Golden smoke-like substance flows from Cupid’s fingers and swirls around the Guardian’s wound, drawing the jagged gash to a close.
Cupid reaches down to help the Guardian up and the brothers stair across the snowy dunes.
The hull of the Silent Night lies smoldering in a snow drift. All is silent, except for the wind whistling in the air.
*THUMP THUMP THUMP*
The sound of muffled pounding begins to drum on the hull of the Night. Suddenly, the hatch of the Night flies open and Claus staggers out. He’s dragging Slay Bells, out into the snow. He rolls the unconscious villain over and places Slay’s hands on his back. Santa reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small gun-shaped tool. He sprays molten marshmallow on Slay’s hands and wrists, adhesing them to Slay’s back.
There’s a stir in the air, snow whipping everywhere. However, there is no sound. An airship drops beneath the cloud cover. Four grappling cables slam into the hull of Silent Night. Another rope drops to the ground and a familiar face slides down the rope.
“Innkeeper, nice to see you again,” says Santa.
“Glad to be of service,” answers the Innkeeper as he jumps off the rope. He’s holding another cord in his hand. He wraps it around Slay’s bound wrists.
Slay begins to gain his consciousness as he ascends up into the belly of the ship.
“I just wanted a bit of fun,” screams Slay laughing maniacally, “Just a little fun before the end of it all.”
Santa’s eyes furrow at the last statement, disturbed by what Slay might know.
“Give us enough time, we’ll break him,” says the Innkeeper.
Santa shakes his head in the affirmative, but his countenance does not soften.