"These aren't just trinkets, North! This is Veilheim's joy, its spirit! You've drained it dry, for what? For… this?" Iris gestured wildly at the grotesque hoard. North's lips twisted - just slightly - but it felt cold. "Happiness fades; worse, it doesn't help. But these?" She pointed at the shining peaks nearby. "They’re clean, bright, untouched. Belong to me." “Yours?: She snorted, colors flashing sharply from annoyance. Hers were never yours - they answered to Veilhiem instead “But Veilheim’s fragile” North shot back, her tone slipping into a sharp hush. “Because it runs on nonsense - plain and simple. What am I giving them instead? Clarity. The strength found in smart grabs, not blind leaps.” Her blue glow flared up, pulsing with an icy clarity that pressed against the air like weight. "You're just helping these greedy beasts hoard what they don't understand!" Iris snarled, her trickster nature abandoning all pretense of subtlety. "You're better than this, North! We're sisters!" A shadow passed over North’s face - not from sorrow, yet something deeper: blank detachment. "Sibling?" she said flatly. "Just noise, Iris. Not worth it." Silence followed. Suddenly, a flash burst from their horn - bright, thin, cutting like steel - and shot straight at Iris. Iris jumped sideways fast - her form flashing like broken rainbows - the blast carving a black trail across the floor where she’d just been. Magic crackled off her in wild sparks, bouncing back the glowing fragments North hurled. Her strikes weren’t steady; instead, jagged orbs of shifting color burst midair, spitting glare and shockwaves. Slipping through motions, she faked copies of herself, one here, there, gone - light bending around each shape, messing with the dragons’ sight as they growled, unsure which way to turn. North didn't back down. Her glow moved sharp and clean, yet hit hard. She formed shapes from brightness - dazzling barriers, flickering lances, ropes of blue fire snapping through air. Each action meant to strike, to stop. The flash in her eyes beat like a cold, lethal pulse. “Hand ‘em over, North!” Iris shouted, panic in her tone, her fake images wavering from the hit. North said "No way," flat-voiced, her expression locked in icy stillness. When a huge dragon charged Iris - woken by the clash - light from North snapped forward, shoving it away without a sound. She meant this battle for herself, nobody else. Iris spotted a plan. While North kept his eyes on her, the pile of stolen magic teetered - crackling with clashing forces. Maybe if she shook it up somehow… A burst of wild magic shot from Iris’s horn and hooves - aimed not at North, but straight into the bottom of the towering heap of decorations. Instead of hitting them, the spell slammed into trapped light and hoarded dragon power, sparking chaos. Cracks split through the pile as it shuddered, tilting sideways like a drunk giant waking up. North’s eyes went wide - panic flashing across her features like a sudden spark. “Idiot!” she snapped, using shimmering magic to steady the wobbling stack. Only now, Iris’s wild energy had already messed things up. Down it tumbled, a cascade of brittle glass and jagged steel, ready to crush them where they stood. Spotting an opening, Iris whipped up a glowing gap in the air - too small to run through, yet perfect for causing chaos. While North got caught watching treasures crumble and that weird tear appear, she grabbed some nearby trinkets - one fragile glass bird, a string of mini shining stars, plus a crystalline bell shaped like snow. Everything seemed oddly icy; the dragon’s greed had drained their spark, weakened further by North’s frosty grip. “You won't ever steal every bit of Veilheim's glow, North!” Iris yelled through the rising thunder of crashing decorations, pain tearing at her chest as she spoke. Right after, fueled by wild magic, she blasted out a fog that sparkled and twisted, hiding her getaway. The dragons bellowed in bewilderment, blinded by the swirling chaos. She ran, slipping down the rocky sides of the Holy Peaks while icy gusts wiped her crying face dry. The things she’d grabbed held tight in her bags weren’t heavy from size - more like grief pressing hard on her chest. North stayed back at the falling palace, maybe crushed under stone or still fighting through ruins she played a part in breaking. Iris couldn’t say what happened to her, and right then, truth was, she wasn’t certain she cared. Back in Veilheim, sadness settled like frost. She handed out the small treasures she’d found - set the glass bird on an icy twig, hung little star charms by the door instead of tossing them aside, and tapped the crystal bell once. They glimmered weakly, barely holding light under heavy shadow. Not much, really - just a hint that things might change - but most of the joy? Still gone, maybe crushed or locked away where the dragon hoards its loot. The holidays in Veilheim weren't fixed - just noticed. More like a quiet nod than a celebration, colored by old wounds still stinging. Iris used to glow with bright reflections of pure delight; now her shine held nothing but sorrow's shades. Her sister, North? Vanished. Maybe for good. Swallowed whole by a dark so thick no spark could reach it. The Hallowed Peaks stayed standing, cold proof of trust shattered, always whispering about what got taken - and how deeply it hurt.