Hours bled into the afternoon as the Snowman and his sisters scoured the ghost ship.
They searched every cabin and peered into every dark corner, but the mystery only
deepened. The ship was a paradox: a vessel of death filled with the bounty of life.
Finding no monsters or survivors, the sisters' initial terror began to wane, replaced by
the practical instincts of survival.
"Look at this, Noel!" the eldest sister called out, her voice echoing from the cargo
hold. "Fresh fruits, vegetables... and real steel cooking tools!"The lure of the "loot" was too strong to ignore. For a family that had survived on raw
fish and bone-needles for years, this was a treasure trove. They began the grueling
work of of-loading the crates. The Snowman watched them in quiet confusion, his
golden eyes darting between the crimson rivers on the deck and the bright green
apples his sisters were so happily collecting. Ever the protector, he began to help, his
massive strength making short work of the heavy wooden crates.
But the silence of the ship was a lie.
As the last of the sun's light hit the deck, the pools of blood began to shimmer with a
foul, dark radiance. The liquid didn't dry; it boiled. From the depths of that angry,
shimmering gore, bone began to knit with bone. In a flash of cold, necrotic energy,
two Royal Guard Skeletons rose from the deck. Standing eight feet tall, clad in rusted
but ornate armor, they gripped spears that hummed with a deathly chill.
They did not speak. They did not warn. They saw Noel, who was currently balancing a
crate of fruit, and leveled their spears.
"Noel! Move!" the eldest sister screamed.
The spears whistled through the air, aimed directly at the girl's heart. But before the
steel could find its mark, a wall of fur and muscle slammed into the path. The
Snowman stood before Noel, taking the full force of the assault. The spears sank
deep—too deep—into his chest, the tips bursting through his back in a spray of dark
blood.
The giant collapsed to his knees, the wooden deck groaning under his weight. The
spears remained lodged in his chest, pinning him like a beast in a trap.
"Big Brother!" Noel shrieked, dropping the crate and rushing toward him, her hands
reaching for the matted fur of his neck.
The Royal Guards didn't falter. Pulling jagged swords from their hips, they stepped
over the Snowman, their empty sockets fixed on the defenseless girl. With a burst of
agonizing strength, the Snowman forced himself back to his feet. He ignored the
spears piercing his vitals and grabbed the skeletons by their armored throats.
He let out a guttural, soul-shaking roar—a command that didn't need words. Run.
Noel looked into his golden eyes one last time, saw the pain and the love there, and
turned. She leaped from the railing, her cry lost to the wind as she hit the snow below,
leaving her Big Brother to face the shadows alone.