Days have passed since The Long Night began. The City was still surviving, but it wasn't without its casualties.
Many of the older population had sadly passed away in their sleep. The constant cold wind blowing down the city's roads was too much for their weak bodies, and they were unable to keep fighting.
Even though Fishy's magic training was a success, and he was able to create more magic stones that Silmor could use for heaters in each house, it wasn't enough.
The city continued to function as normal as possible, but the repetitive days quickly got to them. Stuck in the same loop of hoping to see the sun that they know will never appear. There's is only so much positivity people can hear before they start to understand the lies.
Even if Fishy was trying his best, it wasn't enough.
However, regardless of the situation, there was one man who would not give up. One man who was the oldest resident in the city, The Elder.
The Elder roamed the depressing snow-filled streets every day whilst people were on their way to work. Even if he was advised to stay in the warm, he greeted everyone he saw.
He'd walk the same route every day, pass the same shops, and even see the same people who would always brave a smile when seeing him. After Fishy, he was the most known person in the city.
One day, when he was dragging himself along his usual route, he stopped and decided to sit down on a nearby wooden bench. He brushed the snow off the top of it before gently resting himself down on it, fully aware that even with his cane he may not be able to get back up.
He'd sit down and watch as the city grew and continued to flourish.
"Here you go!"
Whilst he was resting, with his body almost giving into the snow that slowly cushioned him, he was interrupted by three familiar, identical black-haired faces.
"Well, Hello, Tim, Tom and Tam." The elder leant forward as he patted them on the head, slowly moving back into the place he cemented himself in. He looked down at the children who were tightly wrapped in thick clothing. Gloves covered their hands and scarfs covered their necks.
"What are you drinking there?" The Elder noticed that they all seemed to have cups in their hand that they gently blew on as hot steam came from the top.
"Hot chocolate, or so Fishy calls it…" Tim said as he went to take a sip only to burn his tongue.
"It's hot," Tom said.
"Very hot," Tam added.
"I see, how nice..." A smile almost as warm as the drink appeared on The Elder's face. "Do you mind if you go get me one?"
"Of course not!" Tim said as he saluted, almost spilling his drink by using the wrong hand.
"We can!" Tom said.
"We will," Tam added.
"Thank you…"
The Elder smiled as the twins left, he watched as they vanished into the dark city that seemed much smaller than usual. He didn't have to wait long for the triplets to return and hand him the drink, but sadly this time they didn't stay for long. They had to leave to go help the others prepare for tonight's dinner.
The Elder gently took the cup that pleasantly lit up his wrinkled hands, he carefully lifted it to his mouth where he tried not to miss a drop, but quickly pulled it away when he burnt his lip.
"Careful, it's hot," His granddaughter, Clara said as she stood in front of him, looking down at her grandfather who was tightly wrapped in many layers of clothing.
"At least it'll warm you up." She added before she sat down next to him, slowly drinking from her own cup which had cooled down a bit.
Despite being related by blood, the two were unable to form a conversation. Words which would normally form easily were unable to be crafted. This was because they both knew about what conversation was to happen next.
"Are you giving up?" Clara asked as she restlessly sat, unable to look at her grandfather who was visibly dying with each passing day.
"This cold has taken many already, some even younger than I."
"So? You think you won't survive?"
"I'm just trying to stay realistic. Each night gets colder and we haven't even hit the worst point. I'm sure my life will come to an end soon."
Clara stayed silent. She had tried to accept it long ago, even before Fishy arrived. The grandfather that raised her was old and weakening with each passing day. She had planned for the days before Fishy arrived to stay in the village with her grandfather whilst the other residents ran.
"I'll keep fighting," The Elder spoke as he stared into a burning torch that rested at the other side of the street.
"You gotta at least make it to Christmas," Clara spoke.
"What's Christmas?"
"Something from Fishy's home town. He calls it a time for friends and family to come together and create memories. Apparently, they exchange gifts and eat large feasts together."
"Ha, I see…" The Elder said as he tried to push himself up off the bench, only to be helped up by Clara. His weak bones shook as they grasped for his cane that supported his body. "I guess I better go on for a little while longer then."