After a rather sleepless night, Max was rudely awakened by one of the demonic elves, grubby little hands ripping off his protective covers, exposing his skin to the cold air as it took a rough hold of his arms and pulled him to his feet.

It was time for the marking ritual.

Of course he struggled and protested, fearful and unsure about that was even happening as he was dragged to a new room by the masked creatures that refused to bless him with any communication, verbal or not.

His breath left him when he was brought into the dark room, cold walls alight with many steel torches with heads that danced with a glowing flame. There was something….intimidating about this massive room, and perhaps it was all the eyes of the elves that had aligned themselves in orderly lines with a way parted for him, glowing through the hollow holes of their masks.

He was forced onto his knees as the reached him, raised up on a pedestal covered in ancient pagan carvings. The elves that had him restrained released their grip on him due to a non verbal command by their master, who gave a quick gesture of his ugly hand. The one in the plague mask scurried forward, taking a tight hold of a metal pole (perhaps a poker of some sort?) that had been carefully heating amongst the center of burning tip, alight with a searing orange shade, brandished a familiar, trident symbol that decorated the false skins and masks of the great Christmas Demon's minions.

It was a brand.

It took a mere seven seconds for Max's brain to put the pieces together. His blood turned to ice, all his muscles tensing and locking his small form into place like a deer in the headlights.

"Maxwell Engel." Krampus bellowed from his raised totem, pointing an elongated, finger at the fear-frozen boy. "You have promised your soul to me, and you are indebted to me eternally, lest I release you to freedom. You are now one of my dark children."

The elf came closer, raising the brand towards his face. Max's mouth gaped like a fish, wanting to scream though his lungs refused.

"Willkommen in der Familie, mein Kind."

The brand pressed against his forehead, and Max screamed.

She was a mother now.

Another foul, pulsating egg, a perfect, yellow, gelatinous orb forced itself out of her mature body to join its kin- all 58 of them and counting. One began to tremble and wobble, the leathery outside bursting in a spill of afterbirth and other fluids as her first youngling crawled to greet her.

She turned, moving all four of her long arms across the cavern floor (the one she had made beneath the house of her main meal) and nuzzled the more rounded head of her offspring.

Soon, she thought. Soon she would be ready to reclaim what was her own.

The sobs that came from Max's room physically hurt him.

Der Klown pressed his gloved hands against his chest, curling his tail around himself tighter with each agonized cry that came from the poor child's room. He wanted to make his new friend feel better...but how?

Then an idea hit him...but hopefully the master wouldn't learn of it.

Krampus was not a heartless beast. The tears and the pain that had filled the human child's brown eyes did sway his abet icy heart, but the ritual was something that needed to be done, something to bound them together as master and minion.

The great demon's toy tinkerings were interrupted when the door to his workshop burst open, a small figure with sticking out a false, wooden tongue rushing through in a panic.

"Stekkjarstaur? What's wrong, my elf friend?"

The dark elf failed his arms, spitting out a rush of German before holding up a shattered snow globe and an..unfamiliar elf mask.

"No…" The demon whispered, realization setting in.

The Mara was free.

I rushed this out to get this to you guys on Christmas! More should hopefully come soon! By the way, Krampus said "Welcome to the family, my child." during the ritual.