The Yellow Fairy Dust Saga
The Vanishing Teacup Where Dust Takes Us Crossing Worlds The Eve Begins Scaling Up
Scaling Up
Part 5 of the Yellow Fairy Dust Saga (February, 1821)
Santa's Lab, Santa's Village, Evela
The workshop lights flickered gently overhead, swaying with the winter wind outside. Within the hidden corners of Santa’s Lab, Chris Kringle crouched low over a workbench, sleeves rolled high, goggles smudged with dust and sweat. The soft golden shimmer of Yellow Fairy Dust danced between his fingers as he held a brush over a strip of deep red velvet.
"This is going to sound ridiculous," he muttered to himself, "but if fairy dust can carry a sleigh between worlds… maybe it can carry a toy between bags?"
Two identical toy sacks lay before him, each stitched from North Pole velvet, each lined with golden thread sewn by his own hand. This was no ordinary embroidery—it was thread infused with crushed Yellow Dust and bound with a whisper of intent. Santa had worked in silence for days, experimenting, failing, theorizing.
Now came the test.
He placed a single carved duck—maplewood, hand-painted—into the first sack. He tied the string, gently, and looked across the bench at the second sack.
Nothing.
He frowned, leaned in, and reached for the second bag—then stopped as it pulsed slightly. With cautious fingers, he opened the mouth.
Plop.
The duck landed inside the second bag as though it had always been there.
Chris’s eyes widened. “No way…”
Behind him, a small gasp.
Penny Tootle had crept in at some point, holding a mug of warm rootbeer cider. “Did that just—?”
“Teleport,” said Santa. “From one bag to the other.”
Rudy Winters entered right behind her, arms crossed but eyebrows high. “That’s not a toy trick, is it?”
“No trick,” said Chris. “I think I’ve discovered a link—like a bridge—between two spaces. Not exactly movement through space, but… displacement through matching intention.”
Penny tilted her head. “Like… they’re connected now?”
He nodded, glowing with the giddiness of discovery. “As long as the Yellow Dust is in balance and the intention is set clearly during creation, yes.”
“Then we’re calling it the Portal Sack,” Penny announced, placing the mug beside him. “I’m not saying that name is perfect, but it’s catchy.”
Chris chuckled, and Rudy, ever the practical one, muttered, “Let’s just hope it doesn’t send toys into the moon.”
Three Days Later – Above Earth
It was just past midnight when the sleigh soared through the dimensional veil again. This time, Santa wasn’t on a scouting run—he was running a test.
The air around the sleigh shimmered yellow-red as it broke through the veil. The sky changed instantly from the shimmering green auroras of Dondavar to a cold, inky-black canopy pricked with stars. Below, familiar lights twinkled from a sleepy continent. Earth.
He kept the sleigh low and steady. The two bags—linked with the same thread and dust as before—were fastened carefully: one beneath the seat, the other tucked beside him. This test was risky. It wasn’t just about magical theory anymore—it was about trust.
He landed softly in a grove just outside a snowy Dutch town. The moon glinted off the bark of tall trees. With a quiet grunt, Santa climbed out and nestled one of the bags beneath a hollow log, brushing snow over it with care.
Then he whispered, “Hold fast,” and returned to the sleigh.
Back in the Lab – Minutes Later
The sleigh burst back through the dimensional veil in a shimmer of warm light, and Chris vaulted from the sleigh before it had fully stopped. He clambered down the stairs to the lab, his boots echoing on the wooden steps.
Bag in hand.
Penny and Rudy were waiting.
“Did it work?” Penny asked, eyes wide.
Chris said nothing. He reached for the toy he had chosen—a stuffed bear, with one button eye and a blue scarf. A personal favorite, hand-stitched by Tinsel McGinnis herself.
He dropped it into the local bag.
Silence.
Then: thwip!
A folded note appeared inside the bag where the bear had been.
Chris froze. Rudy raised a brow. Penny dove forward and snatched it up.
Unfolded it read:
“Received. Works perfectly. You’re onto something big. – B.L.”
Penny tilted her head. “B.L.?”
Chris smiled. “Bromley Longbranch. Field elf. Currently stationed in Amsterdam.”
Rudy blinked. “Wait—you’ve already got elves posted on Earth?”
Chris shrugged. “Just Bromley and a few others so far. Quiet observers. We’ll need more soon, though. Someone’s got to find out where the children are—and how many there really are.”
Penny looked thoughtful. “That’s going to be a lot of names to check.”
“Exactly,” said Chris. “Millions, if we’re right. And we need to find them all before December.”
Later That Evening – The Great Hearth Hall
The fire in the hearth crackled gently. The day's work was done. Elves lounged with cider and cinnamon bark crisps as Santa stood at the front, a new plan forming behind his twinkling eyes.
He held up the two matching red sacks.
“With these,” he said, “we won’t need to overload the sleigh. We won’t need hundreds of stops per night. We just need more toys—and more hands to make them.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
“We’ve crossed worlds. We’ve crossed time. And now, we can cross distance with nothing but a bag and a wish.”
Someone clapped. Then another. The room erupted in cheers.
Penny leaned toward Rudy and whispered, “Do you think he’s figured out how many bags we’ll need?”
Rudy chuckled. “Probably not. But he’ll figure it out halfway through sewing the tenth one.”
The night wore on, but Santa did not sleep. He sat by the fire in his workshop, yellow dust glowing faintly in a glass jar by his side, the two bags resting like twins on the bench.
The world had just grown impossibly large.
But now… he could reach it.
And soon, he would.
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