Chapter Text
Snow drifted steadily outside the manor, soft flakes gathering on the stone steps and coating the ancient garden paths in white. The cold bit sharply at the air, the kind of winter chill that made even magic feel sluggish.
Inside, the hearth crackled warmly.
Völk sat closest to it, wrapped in several layers of blankets. His breathing was shallow but steady, eyelights dim but peaceful. He managed a small smile when Farbe approached.
“You don’t have to look so worried,” Völk murmured, voice thin but warm. “Go home. You deserve it.”
Farbe squeezed his hand gently.
On the couch nearby, Frech sprawled dramatically across the cushions.
“Man, I can’t believe I’m stuck in dis frosty castle, yo,” he complained loudly, though he didn’t move an inch from Völk’s side. “Ain’t no way I’m leavin’ my boy here alone. But y’all better bring snacks. Good ones.”
Farbe laughed softly. Fehler managed a tiny, nervous smile.
Fehler stepped forward. “We’ll return before nightfall,” he promised, voice low but sincere.
Frech waved lazily without sitting up. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t die or whatever.”
Lady Fleuve adjusted her cloak, Sir Vacío shadowing her closely, and Unsterblich stomped her boots by the door with soldierly impatience.
“Alright!” Unsterblich barked, voice ringing like steel. “Let’s move out before the snow gets any worse!”
The group stepped out into the cold, the manor doors closing behind them with a soft thud.
Knochengerüst lay quiet under winter’s frost, the rooftops blanketed in white. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the streets were nearly empty save for a few bundled monsters shuffling between homes.
As the group approached, curtains twitched.
Lantern-lit windows filled with silhouettes.
Whispers rippled through the village.
“The manor family…”
“Is that the beast?”
“Is that Fehler?”
“Is Farbe with them?”
Fehler tensed immediately, shoulders rising, claws curling. His glitches flickered faintly along his ribs.
Farbe squeezed his hand. “I’m right here.”
Unsterblich marched ahead with the confidence of someone who could punch winter itself. “Move aside. Important business coming through.”
A familiar voice called from across the square.
“UNSTERBLICH!”
Gerson shuffled toward them, bundled in a thick winter coat, cane tapping against the icy ground. His face split into a wide grin.
“By the stars, you’re back!”
Unsterblich’s expression cracked into a rare, soft smile. She strode forward and scooped the old monster into a careful but fierce hug.
“Missed you too, old man.”
Gerson chuckled, patting her back. “Still dramatic as ever.”
Fehler kept his head down, trying not to loom too much.
They didn’t make it far into the village before a familiar voice pierced the quiet.
“MAMA! PAPA!”
Azul sprinted across the square, snow flying behind him like confetti. His star-shaped eyelights blazed with joy.
Fleuve froze, then dropped to her knees, arms open, trembling.
Azul collided with her, and she wrapped him in a crushing embrace, sobbing openly into his shoulder.
Vacío reached them moments later, pulling both of them close, his own eyelights shimmering.
Naranja arrived last, strolling at his usual lazy pace, hands in his pockets. He smirked, but his voice cracked near the end.
“Did you end up getting that milk?”
Fleuve cupped Azul’s face, voice breaking. “We missed so much. We’re so sorry we left both of you. You never should have had to shoulder that responsibility, Naranja.”
Vacío rested his forehead against Azul’s. “We’re here now. We won’t miss another moment.”
Azul immediately launched into rapid-fire chatter, everything that had happened, every detail he could remember, every story he had been saving.
Naranja rolled his eyes but stayed close, occasionally adding a dry comment to keep Azul from hyperventilating. His eyelights softened with relief every time he glanced at his parents.
Fehler watched from a distance, guilt flickering across his glitching bones.
Farbe gently nudged him. “Come on. They’re happy. You don’t have to hide.”
Fehler swallowed hard and nodded.
The manor of Mayor Cauchemar loomed like a shadow carved from the mountain. The air around it shimmered with dark magic, thick and viscous.
Rêve was already there, bundled in winter layers, smiling with relief the moment he saw Farbe.
“Thank the stars,” Rêve breathed, pulling him into a hug. “You’re safe.”
Fehler bowed awkwardly. Rêve nodded back, polite but cautious.
Cauchemar descended the stairs, tentacles waving behind him.
Fehler blurted before he could stop himself. “That’s your mayor? I thought I was the only one cursed.”
Farbe elbowed him so hard he wheezed.
Cauchemar smirked. “Charming.”
The mayor lifted a dripping hand and stamped several documents with a seal.
“By decree,” Cauchemar intoned, “the legal status of all residents of the mountain manor is restored. Their citizenship reinstated. Their exile lifted. Their curse annulled.”
Fehler’s breath hitched.
Cauchemar’s gaze softened slightly, perhaps thinking of his own curse. “You are no longer bound by malediction, Fehler.”
Rêve squeezed Farbe’s shoulder. “Go home. Your parents need you.”
As Farbe turned to leave, Rêve added warmly, “Tell Kreuz and Zeichen I said hello, and that I’m glad they’re okay.”
The walk to Farbe’s childhood home was short, but Fehler’s steps grew slower with every one. He remembered the fight. The blood. The screaming. The way Kreuz’s bones cracked under his claws. The way Zeichen hit the wall.
He almost turned back.
Farbe knocked before he could.
The door opened.
Top froze.
Aster appeared behind him, hand flying to his mouth, tears already gathering.
Farbe beamed. “I’m home.”
Aster made a sound, half sob and half laugh, and Farbe was swept into his arms. Top wrapped around both of them, trembling.
Fehler stood in the doorway, head bowed.
Top looked up, appraising him, but didn’t kick him out. He kept an eyesocket on him without addressing him directly.
Kreuz stood near the hearth, posture rigid, arms crossed. His eyelights widened when Farbe rushed toward him.
“KR—”
Farbe slammed into him with a hug so fierce Kreuz staggered.
Kreuz froze.
Then, slowly, awkwardly, he hugged back. “You’re really home…” His voice cracked.
Farbe squeezed him tighter.
Inside, Zeichen stirred. Let me. It’s my turn.
Kreuz didn’t resist.
The shift rippled through their shared body, bones reshaping, clothes twisting, frame lengthening, until Zeichen stood there instead, human and trembling.
He pulled Farbe into a full‑body hug, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder.
“Don’t ever scare us like that again,” Zeichen whispered, voice breaking.
Farbe clung to him, shaking.
The door had barely closed behind Farbe and Fehler when the house fell into a heavy, trembling quiet. Snow muffled the outside world; only the faint crunch of their footsteps faded into the night.
Inside, warmth pressed close, the hearth crackling and the lamps glowing, but none of it eased the tension coiled in the room.
Top sank slowly onto the couch, hands still shaking from the force of Farbe’s embrace. Aster remained standing for a moment, staring at the door as if expecting Farbe to burst back in again. His breath hitched, and he pressed a hand over his mouth.
“He really came back home,” Aster whispered, voice cracking. “He’s really… alive.”
Top reached for him, pulling him down beside him. “I didn’t think we’d ever see him walk through that door again.”
Across the room, Zeichen stood rigidly near the hearth, arms crossed, jaw tight. The shift had not reversed; he remained in control, though Kreuz’s presence lingered beside him, quiet, steady, unseen.
Aster wiped his eyes. “He looked healthy. Without his medication.”
A pause.
“And he wasn’t alone.”
Top exhaled slowly. “No. He wasn’t.”
Zeichen scoffed, sharper this time. “That thing was towering over him like a shadow. I don’t like it.”
Kreuz’s voice brushed against him in his mind, low and cautious: He didn’t seem dangerous.
Zeichen’s eyelights narrowed. “You’re forgetting how it felt when he broke our bones.”
Hard to forget when you still whine about it, Kreuz replied drily.
Zeichen bristled. “I do not whine.”
Sure, Kreuz dragged out the word flatly.
Top rubbed his temples. “I saw the way Fehler looked at Farbe. I know that look. But it’s complicated.”
Aster’s voice dropped. “It wasn’t just protective. It was something else.”
They didn’t say the word.
They didn’t have to.
Zeichen’s jaw clenched. “If Farbe thinks he’s in love, he’s out of his mind.”
Kreuz’s invisible presence seemed to stare off, contemplating this news.
Aster twisted his hands in his lap. “Farbe has always loved deeply. Too deeply. And Fehler…”
He swallowed. “I don’t know what Fehler feels, outside of clearly being possessive.”
Top nodded grimly. “And that scares me more than the curse ever did.”
Zeichen snorted. “Good. It should.”
Kreuz’s voice suddenly leaked through Zeichen’s mouth. “He apologized.”
Zeichen stiffened. “So what? That doesn’t undo anything.”
“No,” Top said softly. “The past can’t be undone.”
Aster leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But Farbe trusts him. And Farbe… he doesn’t change his mind about things like this.”
Zeichen rolled his eyes. “He gives it too easily when he’s attached.”
The room fell into a tense silence.
Top leaned back, staring into the fire. “I don’t know if I can forgive Fehler. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
Aster nodded. “But I can try to understand him. For Farbe’s sake.”
Zeichen huffed, arms crossing tighter. “I’m not trying anything.”
Kreuz’s voice returned, quiet and pragmatic:
We don’t have to forgive him. But Farbe won’t stay away from him. We’ll have to deal with that.
Zeichen muttered something under his breath, sharp and bitter and absolutely not polite.
Top looked toward the door again, expression weary but gentler than before. “They’ll be back.”
Aster leaned against him. “And when they come back… we’ll be here.”
The fire crackled.
The snow fell.
And the family sat together, uncertain of the future but relieved to know the brightest member of their family was at least alive and healthy.
Later, Farbe and Fehler were walking in the snow, getting ready to head back to the castle. The village lights glowed behind them, warm against the winter night.
Farbe leaned against Fehler, content. Fehler looked back at the house, at the family that had cried for Farbe, fought for him, feared for him, loved him.
Then Farbe suddenly gasped, loud and sharp.
Fehler jolted, claws flying up defensively. “What—? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen—?”
Farbe blinked, then slapped both hands over his mouth.
“I forgot to tell my brothers that Rêve said hi.”
Fehler stared at him.
Then he let out a long, slow exhale and sagged forward, half laughing, half collapsing from the adrenaline spike.
“…Farbe,” he muttered, “you can’t do that to me.”
Farbe grinned sheepishly and squeezed his hand.
And for the first time, Fehler felt like he belonged somewhere.
Winter had never felt so warm.