The tundra stretched wide and desolate, the moonlight bathing the snow in a pale, eerie glow. Mrs. Claus sprinted through the wilderness, her powerful legs kicking up frozen drifts as her claws carved into the ice. Her silver fur bristled against the biting wind, and her glowing eyes burned with a wild, primal fury.

Her mind was a chaotic blur of rage and fragmented memories, but one name burned through the haze: Ded Moroz.

She didn’t fully understand why she sought him. Perhaps a remnant of her human self clung to the idea that he could help her, heal her. But the beast inside her had other plans. Hunger, fury, and something darker drove her forward. It wasn’t just instinct—it was an overwhelming, violent need.

Ahead, a faint light flickered in the distance, a beacon against the endless expanse of snow. She quickened her pace, her breath forming clouds of steam as she closed the distance.

Ded Moroz’s cabin was a solitary haven in the frozen wilderness, nestled among towering evergreens heavy with snow. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and the faint hum of magic permeated the air. Inside, Ded Moroz sat near the hearth, his long white beard catching the firelight. His gnarled staff rested across his knees, the icy crystal at its tip glowing faintly.

The shaman looked up as the door rattled, the force of a heavy blow reverberating through the cabin. His sharp eyes narrowed. “So, it’s come to this,” he muttered, rising to his feet.

The door burst inward, snow and splinters scattering across the room as Mrs. Claus barreled inside. Her massive frame filled the doorway, her fur bristling and her teeth bared in a savage snarl. Steam rose from her body, her breath visible in the frigid air.

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“Mrs. Claus,” Ded Moroz said, his voice calm but edged with sorrow. “You’ve let the beast take hold.”

Her response was a guttural growl, her glowing eyes locking onto him.

“You came to me for help,” Ded Moroz continued, gripping his staff tightly. “But I see you now want something else.”

Without warning, Mrs. Claus lunged, her claws extended toward his throat. Ded Moroz sidestepped the attack with the agility of a man half his age, his staff sweeping out to deflect her. Ice erupted from the ground, encasing her hind legs in thick, jagged crystals.

“Stop this madness!” he commanded, his voice echoing with the authority of a demigod. “You are stronger than this!”

But the beast within her had no interest in words. She let out a deafening snarl, shattering the ice with brute strength. Shards flew through the air, cutting into the walls and floor. Ded Moroz barely had time to raise a protective barrier of ice before she was upon him again.

Her claws raked across his arm, tearing through his robe and leaving deep, bloody gashes. He retaliated with a blast of icy wind that hurled her back, slamming her into the wall. The cabin shook with the force of their battle, snow and debris falling from the roof.

“You’re not yourself, Mrs. Claus,” Ded Moroz said, his breath coming in heavy puffs. “Fight it. Fight the curse!”

But there was no reasoning with her. She lunged again, her teeth snapping inches from his face. Ded Moroz summoned a flurry of snow and frost, blinding her temporarily. He used the moment to summon his magic, his staff glowing brighter as he called upon the power of the frozen wilderness.

The cabin filled with a storm of frost and fury, the temperature plummeting to deadly levels. Ice crept along the walls and floor, but Mrs. Claus tore through it all with relentless strength.

Finally, with a savage growl, she tackled Ded Moroz to the ground. His staff clattered away, the light fading from its crystal. He stared up at her, blood staining his robes and beard, his breathing labored.

“Do it,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. “End this.”

Mrs. Claus hesitated for the briefest moment, the glow in her eyes flickering as the remnants of her humanity fought to surface. But the beast snarled louder, drowning out all other thought.

She lunged forward, her teeth sinking into his throat. Blood sprayed across the frozen floor as she tore through flesh and sinew, the warm, metallic taste flooding her senses. Ded Moroz’s body convulsed once before going limp, his life extinguished in a crimson pool beneath her.