It was silent enough in the workshop to hear a snowflake fall. It had grown dark outside, but the elves who had shown up for the Blessday-afternoon shift were still there.

  As the afternoon wore on, a slow drift began toward Cynthie’s workbench. Initially, it had been one or two elves with their own dreams of reaching Master Toymaker. One by one, they strolled over to observe and learn. As she had progressed, a few more went over, drawn to live vicariously the making of a Master Toymaker in progress.

  Now, Cynthie was close to the end and every present elf, including Lacey, had been drawn into a half-circle around her. Watching with rapt attention; they, soundlessly, cheered her on, careful to not so much as breathe too harshly on her delicate work. Their heads were bent close together, close enough to observe well, yet still far enough to give Cynthie space to work in.

  Lacey felt a gentle breeze flow over her ear as Danji softly exhaled. She sniffed imperceptibly. Why did Danji’s breath smell so sweet? And, was that a bit of spice? Glühwein? Eyes widening, she fought the urge to turn to stare at Danji.

  They didn’t have glühwein at the workshop. Where had Danji gotten it from? Surely she wasn’t drinking on the job?

  Cynthie gracefully pulled another thread taut, pulling Lacey’s attention back to the moment. Later, she resolved. This was not the time to wonder about Danji and her problem with glühwein. Reaching the exact tension the kaleidoscope’s internal lattice required, Cynthie deftly knotted the wire into place and neatly snapped the excess filament off with a little pair of wire-cutting scissors.

  There was only a single thread left. The tension in the workshop rose to a crescendo. Every thread inside the snowflake kaleidoscope was now in perfect dialogue with the others. One single thread, one delicate adjustment, and it would be perfection itself.

  A movement from Danji flashed in the corner of Lacey’s eye. She had lifted her hand, pressing her fingers against her mouth for a moment, as if to stifle something. Barely registering it, Lacey switched her attention back to Cynthie.

  Cynthie carefully laid the scissors down, secured her jeweller’s magnifying glass one last time, and picked up her work tweezers again. She lifted up the end of the final strand with the tweezers in one hand and stylus in the other, gently guiding it down into the tube and past the already tensioned wires, toward its tiny anchoring hook.

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  Lacey couldn’t help admiring the purposeful control Cynthie performed each movement with. Seeing a master at work, because even though Cynthie hadn’t earned the title yet, that was undoubtedly what she was, kindled a little flame of ambition in Lacey’s chest. Could this be me? she wondered. She set those thoughts aside – Cynthie was moving again.

  Ever so gently, Cynthie stretched out the final filament, tightening the anchoring knot she had created at the bottom of the tube. One last tug secured it firmly, ensuring it would be able to withstand use by clumsy earth-children hands. She rotated it around, lacing it into place inside the kaleidoscope’s mechanism.

  At last, it was time for the final tensioning. The step that would pull every part into its ultimate position. Cynthie took a steadying breath, all the other elves holding their breaths with her. With infinitesimal care, she slowly stretched the filament out, staring down into the tube with her glass, watching every part of the mechanism pull into its final alignment.

  Huyip.

  Danji jerked beside Lacey, clapping both hands over her mouth.

  Cynthie’s hand slipped, Danji’s hiccup shattering the silence. With a twang, the crystal thread broke off from its hook, pulled just a squidgeon too tightly. It was the softest tinkling crash Lacey had ever heard – and also the loudest. It echoed in soft waves through the workshop, washing over the shocked observers.

  Sitting frozen, Cynthie’s hand with the tweezers was suspended above the toy. The crystalline thread with which she had been patiently adjusting the internal balance, hung limply from their grasp. The part of Lacey that played the role of impartial observer quietly noted how Cynthie seemed to stop dead at unexpected things, like Lacey diving into the midst of the swans and Danji’s hiccup.

  ‘No, no, no,’ Bethy whispered in disbelief.

  Danji had gone white, her hands still clamped over her mouth, all the elves staring at her. Except Cynthie, that was. She still hadn’t moved, staring at the ruined kaleidoscope like she could see into a parallel universe where the last thread had successfully balanced the whole mechanism.

  Cynthie blinked. Slowly, she lowered the kaleidoscope and tweezers to the bench. The Elves’ eyes swivelled back to her. She then placed her hands in her lap, and looked unseeingly at the wall opposite her, as if it were miles away. Blessday, 5 days till Christmas, the calendar on it read.

  Danji quietly backpedalled out of the group, some elves turning to stare at her accusingly. She stopped a few steps away, watching as moisture pooled in her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Huyip, another hiccup rippled through her. Everyone flinched at the sound, except Cynthie. Lacey wasn’t sure what unsettled her more. The deathly silence surrounding Cynthie, or the ghostly look on her face.

  ‘Cynthie?’ she asked, gently resting her hand on the elf’s shoulder. ‘Are you okay?’

  It was as if she had poured her words into a void. She wasn’t even sure if Cynthie had heard her.

  Bethy elbowed a female elf next to her. ‘Go get Mathilda,’ she mouthed.

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