I thought I'd try something different from writing today...

I did hide multiple important clues in the pictures, so look carefully! 

Boom, baby! I'm back! Lelillo is back! And what's more, it's done! No more waiting! No more writing! Huzzah!

If you're here, it's either because this thread got topped from this post, or it's because you saw my "It's Back" thread. I'm very excited to announce that Lake Lelillo has been completed. I've been working hard to get The End put down, and that day has finally arrived (it arrived yesterday, in fact).

The next installment will either arrive late today or early tomorrow. In the meantime, I'd like to re-open this thread with some special thanks~

Thank you so much, all participants. Many of you have left the CB, but some of you are still here to see the story to its end. Either way, thank you, Joan, Dragonrider, Nighthawk, Owlgirl, Hotairballoon, Cinderpelt, Autumn Leaves, Booksy, Pepper Star/Evergreen, Moonfrost, Icy, Ice Wolf, and everyone else.

I'd also like to thank Luna-Starr, Jwyn, Darkking, Stardust, and all the others who've kept up with this thing even though they aren't even in it!

Thank you, Admins, for putting the intro to Lelillo in the magazine. That was a really special surprise. :)

I hope you enjoy reading these final pages as much as I've enjoyed writing them. All in all, Lelillo has ended up being 374 pages and 126,372 words long.

I'll update the story, at most, once a day. There are lots of twists and turns up ahead, so grab your notes and your sleuthing caps and get ready!

I wrote this part after reading The Scarlet Letter. Does it show? By golly, I think so.

(Hawthorne's writing is amazing. Mine does not hold a candle to his.)

Day 15 - Part Two: Entropy Doesn't Reverse

From a safe distance, Moonfrost scrutinized the remaining Chatterboxers with an introspective, faintly leery stare.

I almost died, was all she could think to herself. The phrase rebounded in its quiet, sinister fashion through her mind, revealing itself ominously to onlookers whenever it flashed behind her eyes. The dark flame within Moonfrost had been ignited only a few days ago, but the strong winds of conflict had fanned it to immense proportions; it was now a blazing whirlwind of fire, too dense to see around and too pleasant to part from. It was the bonfire of isolation, justification, pride, and justice.

I almost died. I didn’t die. I swear it was almost me. I owe my life to Cinderpelt and Autumn. Do they even know that?

Every other Chatterboxer was currently unable to depart from the thought of Elvina and Nighthawk’s disappearance. Every other Chatterboxer was in some state of mourning, focused, as they felt was necessary, upon the tragedy of death.

Not Moonfrost.

Death was far from Moonfrost’s thoughts. Rather than mourn loss, she honored her survival, and focused upon the topic of life. Yet, despite her breathlessness at her own breath, a certain cynical gleam stirred in her calculating eyes. 

Do not mistake these ponderings for selfishness. As mentioned above, a bonfire had swelled inside of the CBette, and justice, or justice in her eyes, fueled her reflections:

Death was a factor that could not be eliminated; at least, that is what her fellow CBers believed. That factor would be gone if only the Mystery could be destroyed; while the disappearance of Night and Elvina had served, for some, to elevate the Mystery to a position of higher power, Moonfrost refused to accept such an outlook; she saw it as an obvious reason to rebel--a reason that Joan and Dragonrider seemed unable to grasp. Why focus on death when the hope of life was right before them?

The day’s events were muddled in Moonfrost’s mind. She could hardly remember what had happened; only the implications:

Why succumb? Why allow it to happen over and over again? Anything has the potential to change. Why follow these rules, which they didn’t choose to follow in the first place? Why should we bow to the will of a force no one wants to follow?

Meanwhile, flowing deeper than the stream of rationalizations in Moonfrost’s awareness, was another set of questions that raced along at light speed, directly contradicting Moonfrost’s consciousness with anguished, overlooked urgency. They were her thoughts, but something cloaked them:

Why are things so different all of a sudden? Why, only just now, are we deciding these things? What’s changed? It wasn’t a problem before! I didn’t feel this way last time--have I ever felt this way? Something is different! Something is wrong! These thoughts are wrong!

Sadly, Moonfrost was deaf to the objections in her subconsciousness. The fire, as mentioned above, was too dense to see around--roaring too loud to ignore. It was too pleasant to look away from--until there was an awful, gut-wrenching halt in her mental chaos, and it was only in this pause she realized she’d been moving farther along a path that was not herself, and it was only in this pause she realized where she had ended up--and it was only in the pause she saw what the fire around her truly was--and it was in that pause where she saw there was no stopping the force overtaking her:

It’s all an illusion, she thought--but it wasn't her thought. Little did Moonfrost know that now, she was in as much control of herself as the murderer was of itself. There's nothing to be done. When it comes down to it, the Mystery's got to go--no matter if everything comes crashing down around us--no matter the cost!

Anyone watching at that moment would have seen Moonfrost nearly choke, having surfaced for a split second from her trance, aghast at what terrible words had been uttered in her mind.

But then, the shock was absorbed, and now we must make a swift departure from the innermost parts of Moonfrost’s brain and leave her to her own devices. Just as part of the murderer’s identity is shrouded from the narrative and its audience, so now will this part of Moonfrost be kept from your view.

Something happened in her mind at that moment. Something that was partially chosen, but also forced by some twisted authority that had sunken into the shadows of everything. I must leave it up to you to determine precisely what that was, for now, Moonfrost is not wholly under my control. The fate of all ski lodges may depend on your observations, for from here on out, all is not candid, and what appears true may be naught but a mirage...Take care that you are not caught in the deadfall.

~ ~ ~

Whatever happened to Elvina and Nighthawk? Perhaps peering into the memory of a Chatterboxer would not provide the most accurate rendition of the incident, especially considering Moonfrost's state, and especially because no CBer ever found out where their friends had gone.

Lily and Cassy had persuaded the Chatterboxers to help with yardwork at the former employee cabins. The entire group was scattered about their different tasks--sweeping, weeding, dusting, mouse eviction duty--and the morning’s note swap was far from mind.

Hotairballoon, having believed Nighthawk and Elvina to be in danger, lingered close to them throughout the afternoon. Moonfrost, who had been privy to Hotairballoon’s belief, set aside her mistrust of him in the interest of keeping the two safe.

Lily put Elvina and Nighthawk on mouse eviction duty, albeit hesitantly, because the only few cabins left to inspect were in the very back. Elvina was assigned cabin 14, and Nighthawk cabin 15--the very last one on the row, the most run-down of all the shacks.

Hotairballoon and Moon split up--Moon with Nighthawk, HAB with Elvina. That was the plan.

When Cinderpelt and Autumn Leaves started screaming, however, the plan fell through; Moonfrost ran to their aid in cabin eight, where they’d found an indigo racer curled up in the bed.

When the commotion died down and the crowd dispersed--it was quite a scene when Cassy wrestled the snake out of the sheets--Moon and HAB returned to seek out their unwitting charges.

Both of them were gone. The only trace of their disappearance was the upturned furniture in cabin 15 and the ominous silence left behind.

Moonfrost knew that if Cinderpelt and Autumn hadn’t screamed, she and HAB would have fallen into the same trap…

~ ~ ~

Later that evening, the Chatterboxers held another meeting. (This one was up in the part of the attic where there were lots of balconies and dusty couches). Meet was all they did. No action was taken, and no action would be taken, against the Mystery. The only result of the meeting was to further the divide between the anti-Mystery and Mystery-supporting CBers.

Poetic Panda was swayed during the discussion. Moonfrost, Booksy, and Brooklyn talked sense--so Panda decided they might be right. Maybe the Mystery should be destroyed…after all, the only goal now was to survive.

But Panda made the mistake of voicing her thought aloud, which immediately got the murderer’s attention. It hadn’t known what to think of her--but now, Panda’s alliance was known.

It’s only fair to point out that Panda’s exact words at the time had been “Yeah, that makes sense, Moon. I think that’s a logical idea.” Not very dramatic, and not very notable or commemorable at all. Unfortunately, agreeing with Moonfrost, whom the murderer was not fond of, was a dangerous thing to do--Which is why, after the meeting, the murderer called Panda over for a little chat. It didn’t matter to the murderer if it interrupted Panda’s conversation with Briar; in fact, the murderer would be happy if Briar joined them; it had recovered Autumn Leaves’s lighstaber and was ready to take action.

“Hey, Panda. Your thoughts at the meeting were kind of interesting, and I actually wanted to talk a little more about your ideas on survival and...getting around the Mystery.” The murderer nodded cheerfully at Briar. “Briar, you’re welcome to come too. I’d love to hear your thoughts as well.”

Now, Poetic Panda was a rather opinionated Chatterboxer, although she didn’t like to express her ideas unless asked. Thus, this invitation was highly welcome, because now that Panda had decided she didn’t like the Mystery, she was raring to share her thinking and take a stab at persuading someone that getting rid of the Mystery was the right thing to do.

Briar, on the other hand, simply came along for the ride, since she felt rather comfortable around Panda and the murderer, and the night looked nice outisde.

The murderer beckoned the two over to the balcony on the far edge of the attic. The other Chatterboxers were still chatting, but had moved on from heavier topics. From the outside, those conversations were nearly imperceptible; an air of privacy hung about the balcony.

The night air was crisp, clear, and still. Stars twinkled down from above, circling around a crescent moon, and the lake was a hazy shade of silver. The atmosphere was peaceful, and the Chatterboxers, comfy on the patio furniture, got to talking very quickly, while Briar stood at the railing, peering out at the beautiful scene.

“I know you have unique opinions on the Mystery,” Panda said to the murderer, who nodded.

“Well, I don’t like to pick sides, you know.” It tapped its head. “I like to use logic.”

Panda chuckled. “Well, by my logic, getting rid of the Mystery seems reasonable.” She felt like she was missing the point, but she waited for the murderer to steer the conversation towards its desired topic.

“On the topic of unique opinions, I noticed you were really focused on survival. Moon and the others argue more on a matter of principle, or emotion, or what-have-you...”

Panda nodded again. “Well, I admit, the survival idea I originally had doesn’t really stand anymore--you know, about us staying alive. After all, the only way to get out of here is to die, right?” She shuddered softly at the thought. “And I know I didn’t explain this very well at the meeting--but essentially what I believe is that since the Mystery is on the verge of breaking, we are all in danger. So it must be better to put it out of its misery.”

The murderer clapped its hands together and leaned forwards, excited by her claim. “See! There it is! I knew that’s what you were thinking. You should have spoken up.”

Panda laughed again. “Really? And I could’ve sworn you were one of the people advocating for the preservation of the Mystery.”

The murderer shook its head. “Logic, remember? I’m after what’s right, not pushing my own personal agenda. Next time, don’t be afraid to say what’s in your head. That’s a really good point.”

Next time, next time, thought the murderer idly. There won’t be a next time, so do it now; give me your thoughts before it’s too late.

Panda smiled thoughtfully. “So you like the idea?”

The murderer nodded. “Yes, it’s an interesting concept. You don’t think there’s a way to heal the Mystery, then?”

Panda shook her head forcibly. “Even if there was, it’s still too dangerous, and--”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Panda paused at the interruption, realizing that the murderer, too, was an opinionated CBer. And yes, she knew all too well that this CBer didn’t accept fluff. Get to the point, she scolded herself.

“Break it right before the last person--or people--leave the ski lodge.”

The murderer was surprised with how well Panda had thought this through; clearly she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and understood the Mystery a great deal better than the murderer had assumed.

“Breakage. Interesting. You would dash it into a hundred tiny pieces and hope nobody steps on the shards.”

Panda cocked her head, puzzled at the analogy.

“Panda, when you break something, it still exists. The only problem when you break it is that it doesn’t work anything like it used to, and it becomes more dangerous than it was when it was whole.”

Panda sat back as if blown away by the thought. “Huh.”

The murderer saw that the conversation was nearing its end. It stood and paced to the railing. Its location was carefully chosen; no one inside could see the corner of the balcony.

“No; there’s no real way to do away with the Mystery,” the murderer went on, satisfied that Panda’s argument had been swiftly put to rest. Now she would not pollute the ghosts of past CBers with her idea.

“I guess...I mean, that makes sense…” Panda stood, unwittingly following the murderer into its trap, and joined it at the corner of the balcony.

“Wouldn’t it be better to preserve what’s left of the Mystery?” proposed the murderer.

Panda hesitated, uncertain all of a sudden, since her foundational theory had been exposed as faulty. “But we don’t even know what’s left. We don’t--”

“Well, Lily and Cassy know. And of course the murderer knows. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

Panda frowned; all her fears came pouring back in: Somehow, she had deluded herself into removing Lily and Cassy from the picture; now, she recalled that the beloved chaperones hung in the balance of every argument over the Mystery; Lily and Cassy’s lives were at stake, just like the Mystery’s.

“Wow. Good point.” For the second time that night, Panda's views swayed. Moon’s ideas did not seem so logical anymore.

“How about this,” proposed the murderer, turning to look straight into Panda’s eyes. “In this ski lodge, you are barred by its rules, so don’t form plans until you’re out. You can’t even think straight here without being certain you’re not under the control of something else. I should know that better than anyone.”

“You--”

“Do you agree now that it’s safer to keep the Mystery?”

Panda nodded halfheartedly--

“Okay, good. I am also going to stand by that conviction, and I am also going to do something about it. What I’m going to do, it follows, should not astonish you…”

Panda followed the CBer’s words in confusion; she still did not realize that it was the murderer. Briar, on the other side of the balcony, hummed absentmindedly, oblivious to what was going on.

“I’m happy you’ve listened to logic, Panda. This conversation has really gone well.”

Then, its eyes seemed to sharpen, and it was then Panda felt the tiniest stirrings of alarm, but she could not identify the source.

“There’s just one more thing I want to tell you.” The murderer pulled out Autumn Leaves’s lightsaber, but in the dark, Panda could not see it. “Don’t let Moonfrost talk you into something like that ever again.” The command was truer than either CBer could have known, even serving to the keen observer as a profound metaphor.

Then, in a flash, Panda saw the purple lightsaber spring to life, and before she could even make a sound, the stars and moon had disappeared, and the blackness closed in around her, and she felt herself floating somewhere skyward, where the voices of bygone CBers awaited her…

The murderer had aimed carefully so that no blood would reach the balcony floor; in one swift movement, after a brief pause, the murderer grabbed the body and tossed it over the railing.

It pocketed the lightsaber as quickly as it could. Briar had been looking the other way the entire time, and the element of surprise was not lost.

“Briar!” exclaimed the murderer. “Come over here and tell me what you think about the Mystery!”

Jerked out of her reverie, Briar glanced the murderer’s way, but was puzzled to not see Panda. “Did she go inside?”

“Yeah,” nodded the murderer. “Also, come over here; the view is even better.”

And that is how both Briar and Panda lost their lives on the night of the fifteenth day of their stay at Lake Lelillo. Rest in peace, you two. 

Wow, that is a long post! Also, welcome back (for now) Micey! So good to see you finishing your ski lodge! I wish I could say I was surprised... but I'm not. ;) I think I was the first one to finish it!  

Day 15 – Part Three: The Middle of the Night

By night, the Noodle Manor was different. By night, all the shadows seemed to sink a little deeper; all the tables and chairs became black trees in a forest of silence; by night, an unearthly cold settled in, and the entire mansion seemed to groan and shift under an unseen weight.

Even the windows were dark, like miniature portals into oblivion. The murderer longed to leap into them and sink into nothingness, where there would be no pain and no responsibility. But it couldn’t; it could barely see enough to make out where the windows were. This was concerning--the murderer was supposed to have perfect vision and memory. Here, now, it felt exposed. Here, now, it was not good enough...

The murderer stood in the middle of the living room just outside the CBers’ bedrooms, one hand on its new favorite weapon--Autumn’s lightsaber. The saber was off, but the murderer knew it would be using it soon, and its light would illuminate the scene and wake all the other Chatterboxers up. With the Mystery’s help, they should stay asleep...But the murderer was afraid that it could no longer trust the Mystery anymore, and, in turn, itself.

The bathroom door was closed but the lights were off. The person inside was about to emerge. And so they did, a few seconds later. Moonfrost walked out of the bathroom with a tired look in her eyes--she was not expecting the attack.

The murderer spoke her name. Moonfrost spun around, startled.

“Oh. It’s you. What are you doing up?” she asked.

“Waiting to use the bathroom,” the murderer replied.

“From all the way over there?” Moonfrost turned to go into the bedroom.

“Moonfrost, I have some important information for you.” Anything to get her to stay. Anything to keep her from escaping again. The claim piqued her interest, and she took a few steps closer.

“You want to give me information?” She was skeptical. She didn’t trust the murderer.

“Yes.” The murderer pulled a piece of paper out of its pocket. Moonfrost fingered the tie on her robe, fidgety and nervous. Or so the murderer thought.

“This is from Lily and Cassy.”

The murderer started to hand Moon the paper. One hand held the note. The other was gripped around the dark, nearly invisible lightsaber hilt.

“I didn’t think you were in the business of helping me,” Moonfrost said to the murderer, reaching slowly out for the note with one hand still on her robe-tie.

Now was the time--Swiftly, the murderer told itself. Another sentence, to distract Moonfrost, while the murderer’s thumb searched for the button on its lightsaber:

“We shouldn’t let our differences on the Mystery keep us from safety,” said the murderer. “Trust me on this.”

“I trust you all right,” hissed Moonfrost, and then her other hand withdrew from her robe-tie, and at that moment, a humming purple blade sliced through the darkness, and in one swift motion, it came down upon its victim before retreating into its hilt, plunging the room into icy darkness once more.

It wasn’t Moonfrost who doubled over.

The murderer stumbled back, clutching its abdomen, frozen in shock and terror.

“I trust you were about to kill me, isn’t that right?” Moonfrost went on, dropping the lightsaber to the ground.

And the murderer knew, somehow, that it had only been holding a tin can the entire time, and Moonfrost had held the real saber, and now--now--

A terrible agony throbbed like lightning, pain beyond description, and the house began to shake with the murderer’s every heartbeat--but it wasn’t the wound that hurt; in fact, relief spread from where Moonfrost had pierced the murderer--it was the murderer’s head that seared in pain and thundered and shook and crashed and began to crumble...

And the murderer fell backwards just as the loudest thundering yet echoed over the entire lake.

And then it awoke covered in a cold sweat, dripping, panting, SAFE in its own bed. It was all a dream. But the murderer was not quite as safe as it would have liked: the mansion was crumbling to the ground.

Day 16 - Part One: Collapse

Jayfeather heaved awake with a deep gasp, sitting bolt upright at the terrifying thunderings that sounded like a war zone.

To his horror, the floor beneath his feet jolted violently, grinding and groaning and bouncing the beds all over the room. Autumn and Brooklyn were already on their feet, trying to wobble to the door, forms blurry due to the vibrations. Sheetrock rained down from the ceiling, and cracks had appeared on the walls.

Jayfeather let out a cry of alarm as the window behind him exploded, expelling deadly shards of glass across the room. He heard screams coming from the neighboring bedrooms. Swallowing his fear, Jayfeather stumbled to his feet, abandoned all his belongings, and emerged in the living room.

“IT’S AN EARTHQUAKE! EVERYBODY WAKE UP!” screamed Joan. The television had toppled over and shattered; sparks flew from the lights; the tables were overturned and all the furniture slid to the left side of the room. The wooden floors were splintering; the ceiling was crashing down; Chatterboxers shouted and screamed as bits of sheetrock dropped around them, and then the rest of the windows shattered, and the tinkling of glass joined the cacophony.

Jayfeather’s heart beat rapidly in terror. Flashbacks to Echosong's sacrafice filled his mind, and a paralyzing fear gripped him, keeping him from moving or even noticing the peril of his fellow Chatterboxers.

Adrenaline filled Jayfeather's body and he was brought back to the present by the cry of Autumn Leaves’s fear as a couch tumbled into her, knocking her into the back wall, where a spiderweb of cracks began to form.

Acting on instinct, Jayfeather bounded to Autumn's side and was joined in a moment by Ariel. Together, the two heaved the couch away and helped Autumn to her feet. Meanwhile, Joan and Hotairballoon stumbled from bedroom to bedroom to ensure everyone made it to the living room safely.

The dangers increased by the second. There was no time to wonder what was happening, or how. If the Chatterboxers did not get out now, they would all die, buried under the ruins of Noodle’s manor just like their CAPTCHAs had been.

“IS EVERYONE HERE?!” Joan shouted out. The CBers had huddled in the center of the room, some harboring bruises or cuts from the glass or caving ceiling. Joan tried to count them, but the room was shaking too violently.

“YES! JUST GO, GO, GO!” Hotairballoon bellowed.

As he followed the others to the door, Jayfeather was astonished to realize his fear had left him. His initial terror had been a result of shock—but now, whether thanks to the adrenaline or something that had happened between Echosong’s death and now, he only felt the insatiable instinct to protect his friends at all costs.

The Chatterboxers linked arms and filed out of the living room, and not a moment too soon: Jayfeather, bringing up the caboose with Hotairballoon, glanced back just in time to see the CBers’ bedrooms reduced in the blink of an eye to a cloud of smoke and dust. The wall slid, with an awful roar, clean off the side of the mansion, letting bleary morning light into the chalky, ruined living room. Then, a beam fell from two stories above and impaled the bathroom, which crumpled and shot jets of water through the splintered wall. Books from an above sitting room rained in through the holes in the ceiling. Moments later, an entire couch came crashing in, and the space was unrecognizable, already beyond repair.

No time to waste. The CBers wobbled through the dusty, quaking halls, trying to ignore the deadly crashing sounds coming from above; no one said a word as they navigated to the stairs, led by Moonfrost and Joan.

Lily and Cassy were nowhere in sight, and the CBers had no way to contact them. However, as soon as the CBers reached the balcony in the reception room, having temporarily outrun the destruction, they saw their chaperones dash in through a lower door and stop at the foot of the balcony’s farthest stairs.

They called to the CBers, but their voices were inaudible over the thunderous sounds of collapse.

“WE’RE COMING DOWN—GET OUTSIDE!” hollered Joan. But then a terrible cracking echoed through the room, and the ground dropped two feet: the balcony was falling. Such swift destruction! What a dance with death!

The sharp crackle of electricity burst up from the reception desk below, and a flame sparked to life. In the dust, it exploded violently before extinguishing itself with a roar. Flame rose up, illuminated the CBers' terrified expressions, and faded just as the massive chandelier up above gave a twang and plunged, tinkling, for the floor.

Meanwhile, wood beams squealed and splintered inside the walls, tearing through the balcony. Jayfeather, whose ears were better than everyone else’s, heard exactly which way the cracks were spreading: directly towards the front of the group, towards the weak spot where the stairs were connected to the balcony.

He shoved his way to the front. “Step back!” he screamed to Joan and Moon and the others. “STEP BACK OR YOU’LL FALL!”

There wasn’t much room to maneuver. Either the CBers could retreat down the hall from which they’d come, where holes were forming in the ceiling and floor, or they could run as fast as they could to the other side of the balcony, where the second set of stairs appeared more stable.

Hotairballoon seemed to follow Jayfeather’s thought process. He rushed to the front of the group as quickly as he could.

“RUN TO THE OTHER SIDE!” Jayfeather demanded, gesturing roughly. Already, the balcony was groaning again, ready to drop a little lower—and this time, it might fall all the way. But the other half of the balcony was so far untouched by destruction. The CBers would have to jump over the existing cracks to make it to the sturdier side. For now, the cracks were tiny--the CBers could ford them in a step. But soon, Jay knew, they would widen and separate...

Hotairballoon went first to show the others what the plan was. Soon, everyone else followed, but one by one: should too many put their weight on the delicate boundary, the rest of the group might be lost.

Jayfeather could practically feel the fear radiating off the others. He could practically hear their inward sobs. He experienced both things himself; now, he really was afraid because he realized as he helped the CBers to the other side that he could fall and die at any moment. But his courage did not quail.

The destruction from the back of the house had now caught up, manifesting in a storm of sheetrock dust. Thankfully, only a few CBers remained on Jayfeather's side now: Cinderpelt, Autumn Leaves, Ariel, and Booksy Owly. Now, the ceiling crumbled with dangerous speed, and the hall behind them separated from both walls and began to sink lower, following the balcony’s slow descent. Nails and screws groaned as they were wrenched from their places. No voice was audible over the roar of collapse.

The balcony dropped again, jolting so violently the CBers nearly lost their footing: now, it hung by a few threads to the wall, and it was clearly broken in two; the side with the safe CBers remained level, but Jayfeather’s side leaned eagerly towards the floor. The balcony sloped steeply, and torn carpet lay ready to ensnare. One misstep and you’d tumble down to the ground—splat.

Cinderpelt could not regain her balance. She slipped on the slick red carpet and tumbled towards the ground—but her hand caught the railing at the last moment, and she dangled, screaming, twenty feet from death.

Jayfeather’s reaction was swift. With catlike reflexes, he allowed himself a controlled slide down to where Cinderpelt hung. In the space of a few seconds, he reached over the balcony and hauled her back up; then, he and Ariel (and HAB, on the other side) helped her to safety.

Three more to go.

Jayfeather’s ears twitched, and suddenly his insides turned to mush. A nearly-imperceptible whisper raced through the ceiling directly above the remaining CBers.

“The ceiling is about to fall on us,” Jayfeather stated very calmly, “and a beam from the attic is making its way down. Booksy, you’re next.”

He and Ariel boosted her up; HAB took her hands; Booksy was safe.

Jayfeather’s ears twisted around. “Ariel,” he said, still calm, but screaming on the inside, “the beam is about to come down right there. Step back.”

‘Right there’--as in, right where Autumn Leaves stood.

But the look Ariel gave Jayfeather communicated more than any words could have. In that brief, split-second glance between the two, Jayfeather and Ariel relived the past sixteen days; they relived the deaths of Echosong and Saphira; they relived their own nightmarish experiences; they relived everything, and together they confessed the truth: There was only a sliver of a chance any of them would make it out of this alive, but if anyone was going to survive, it would have to be Autumn. In short, Ariel looked at Jayfeather as if to say, “Our time is done. We’re in this together.” They had survived to die for a cause bigger than themselves.

Jayfeather tuned out the sound of the crashing beam as he and Ariel darted forwards in an attempt to grab Autumn Leaves and throw her into Hotairballoon’s arms. But then he heard the beam milliseconds away and shouted for Hotairballoon to follow the others down the other set of stairs. As he and Ariel reached Autumn—time seemed to slow, and microseconds felt like minutes—Autumn had an understanding look in her eyes; she knew, too, what was about to happen, and accepted it.

But nobody was prepared for when it did happen, since nobody else could hear what Jayfeather could; therefore, the massive wooden beam that dropped headlong through the ceiling filled the onlookers’ hearts with horror. To them, seconds felt like split-seconds—and in less time than the shortest moment, Jayfeather, Ariel, and Autumn were all gone, buried in what remained of that dusty, cloudy, decimated side of the balcony.

Joan and Cinderpelt screamed, Booksy burst into tears, and Dragonrider, Lily, and Cassy covered their faces in shock.

Yet again, in the cruelest way possible, there was no time to mourn or even process the noble sacrifices of Autumn, Jayfeather, and Ariel. The remainder of the house was doomed to follow suite, and already, the ceiling above the CBers crumbled, sending stones and bricks crashing down.

Lily and Cassy shoved the front doors open—it was difficult, since the wall above them had cracked, and was pressing down on the doors—and forced the CBers out all at once.

A giant crack ran across the patio and its fountain; water oozed all over the place, looking like blood through the haze. The CBers retreated as far as the lake’s shore, but stopped there, turning to watch the rest of the house crash to the ground.

Smoke and dust rose from the ruins of the Noodle Manor. Where the pipes had burst, water streamed out the walls, releasing an airy mist into the atmosphere, serving as a reflection of the desolation of the living CBers. As though in memorial to sweet Autumn Leaves, the gentle spray rose up, swirling, sending steamy shadows over the dense dust and wreckage; sprays burst up all over one side of the house as pipes exploded or were smashed, until the entire left side of the house poured dancing rain out over Lake Lelillo, pacifying the bright morning as though to bring the rest of nature down to a tone of mourning.

The smell of petrichor filled the air. From then on, whenever the CBers smelled this scent before or after a rain, they teared up a little and remembered the day Noodle Manor collapsed.

The mist then formed a bright rainbow, contrasting the carnage but reminding everyone of Ariel; a wind picked up and it seemed to honor him.

The Chatterboxers did not imagine any memorial for Jayfeather. Their own lives were memorial enough. The heartbeats in their chests owed every moment to Cinderpelt’s noble Alter Ego.

Lily and Cassy were mortified. One half of their manor had been reduced to rubble. The other half was unlivable; although it still stood, the windows were broken and the pipes were exposed and the furniture was destroyed.

A subdued silence fell upon the CBers. The entire tragedy had lasted about seven minutes, but it felt like the entire day had been used up.

Brooklyn Newsie, Booksy Owly, Hotairballoon, Moonfrost, Joan B. of Arc, Cinderpelt, and Dragonrider were the only Chatterboxers who remained. Who knows how long they sat there at the lakeshore, quiet for the most part, pondering and reminiscing and mourning. Their despondence turned to despair after some time when they realized there would be no returning to the mansion tonight—or ever.

What would happen now?

-----------

Dun dun dunnn...Any guess as to why the mansion collapsed? 

*puts five letters in for CAPTCHA*

*feels odd* 

Day Sixteen - Part Two: Change in the Winds

A few of the CBers believed the disaster had been result of an earthquake. That was what they wanted to believe, at any rate, but no one could shake the feeling that the Mystery had something to do with this. Oh, of course it did—what at Lake Lelillo didn’t?

A few others were insistent that the murderer had blown up the house’s foundation and caused the wreckage. Whatever the case, Tom Orville Noodle’s beautiful mansion was no more.

Rest in peace, Jayfeather, Ariel, and Autumn Leaves.

Plans would have to be made, but no one was quite up to making them yet, so the CBers acted on whim. The only thing they knew was that they’d be living outdoors for a very long time.

After a few hours, the Chatterboxers wandered along the shore. Nobody wanted to live at the employee cabins; all the deaths from there spooked them, and they wanted to be as far from the mansion as possible. They ended up at the edge of the water park, where they spent awhile resting and making camp.

Day 17 – Part One: A Great Schism

The house was unlivable.

Their belongings were destroyed.

The only thing keeping the Chatterboxers grounded had been lost. Now, unconfined by the walls of Noodle Manor, invigorated and tantalized by the fresh summer air, the CBers were able to conceive fantasies and plots that never would have come to mind otherwise. The Manor’s walls—common rules—did not hinder them any longer.

The Chatterboxers realized something else when they woke up the next day with no roof, beds, or blankets: No matter where they were or what they did, they could not escape the Mystery.

Talking about how to destroy it was grand and all, but now the CBers had to face the facts—talk was no good without action. And what action could they take against an invisible, omnipotent force that seemed to control even Lelillo’s buildings?

Such a realization put a damper on certain CBers’ moods. Meanwhile, those who weren’t as invested in the Mystery’s fate had a great time working with Lily to build huts, as well as foraging for food with Cassy. The chaperones were absolutely thrilled at being in charge again, and it helped them forget about the terrible fate their home had faced.

Unfortunately, the peace could not last long. Moonfrost, Booksy, and Brooklyn Newsie were greatly disturbed by what had happened to the mansion.

“We’ve got to find a way out of here,” Moon groaned. “Things are getting even worse.”

“I don’t know how the others don’t see it,” Booksy murmured. “We’re dying for the Mystery. We shouldn’t be protecting something that’s clearly already wrong...”

“If the murderer wants us to protect it so badly, they should at least keep us informed on what’s happening. We can’t be expected to blindly trust what they say,” Brooklyn put in sensibly.

Dragonrider approached the three CBettes with fish-kebabs. “I heard that, Brooklyn,” Dragonrider commented as she passed out the roast fish-on-sticks. “But you guys know that things will only get worse the more we know.”

“That’s what the murderer says,” Moonfrost replied, “and the murderer has done no service to us, have they.”

Dragonrider sighed. “It’s complicated stuff.”

“Mm, good fish,” Booksy remarked through a large mouthful.

Cinderpelt joined the circle on the sand with a fish of her own. “Thanks! I helped cook it.”

Moonfrost cocked her head. “I guess we’ll have to start taking action now. What do you say, guys!”

“Action?” Joan wondered, plopping down next to Dragonrider. “We’re just getting settled in.”

In the background, one of their spindly wooden huts toppled over with a muted splat. Joan shrugged. “Well, sort of.”

“Action against the dying Mystery,” Moonfrost answered ominously. “Like Panda started saying the other night, at the meeting—living under a wounded force is more dangerous than having no force.”

Dragonrider, Joan, and Cinderpelt frowned.

“And how do you propose we go about the breaking of the Mystery?” Hotairballoon interjected, arriving with a large bass kebab. “No offense, but I think going with the flow is our best plan. I like it here on this beach.”

Moonfrost arched one eyebrow. “But I do have a plan.” She sat a little straighter and began to demonstrate: “The Mystery controls all ski lodges and Lily and Cassy are part of it and it’s located on the mountain outside the window of the Rose Sitting Room…And repeat.”

The murderer felt its headache throb a little harder at Moonfrost’s words. At the fire pit, Lily and Cassy felt a wave of nausea pass briefly through them.

The others (except Brooklyn and Booksy, who’d already heard her plan) looked at Moon skeptically.

Moonfrost explained: “The more we know, the more danger the Mystery is in. The more danger it’s in, the more it breaks. The more we aggravate it, the deeper the cracks run. At least, that’s how I imagine it works.”

“Wh--that’s waging war on the Mystery! And Lily and Cassy, too!” Cinderpelt exclaimed.

“Open rebellion,” Moonfrost affirmed.

Dragonrider muttered something under her breath.

“Pardon me?” Booksy said.

“I said...I said that’s kind of selfish,” Dragonrider repeated, looking at Moonfrost.

“Dragonrider, don’t you agree that it’s probably safer to do away with the Mystery completely?” Booksy suggested. “Rather than remain trapped under a...a ‘mutated’ force, save ourselves by getting rid of the force completely.”

Cinderpelt sighed, got up, and walked back to the fire pit with Lily and Cassy. She hated how these conversations always ended up centered around the Mystery, so she joined the chaperones by the fire.

“Where’s Pierre? Is he still out here?” Cinderpelt asked, hoping to stay far away from the subject of the Mystery.

“Pierre? Oh, I guess he is,” Cassy answered, then raised her voice to a shout. “Maybe we can go visit him at the GARDEN at some point!”

In the distance, Hotairballoon gave her a thumbs up to let her know she’d been heard. However, no one called back in response.

Cinderpelt and the chaperones had a nice conversation over lunch, even though it was pretty hot sitting next to that fire. The extra warmth was comforting, somehow.

Cinderpelt was getting ready to suggest they make some better huts when a yell rose from the other CBers’ group. Alarmed, Cinderpelt whirled to see what was the matter, only to behold Moonfrost and Dragonrider standing, facing each other head on, fists clenched, debating heatedly.

Cinderpelt rose to her feet, astonished at the stand-off. By now the CBettes’ voices were loud enough to carry to the fire pit--First, Cinderpelt heard Joan attempting to pacify Moon and Dragonrider:

“Stop!” Joan shrieked, leaping up. “Just stop arguing! You--”

“I won’t stand for it!” Dragonrider interrupted. “I won’t stand for your stubbornness or--or for your arrogance, Moonfrost!”

Moonfrost jerked back, wounded. “I’m not being arrogant!” she exclaimed. “I’m trying to keep us all ALIVE! I’m trying--I’m trying to--”

Dragonrider responded venomously. “What you’re doing is driving us apart when we really need to stay together right now.”

“You’re trying to protect a force you know little to nothing about,” Brooklyn Newsie interjected.

“You’re trying to destroy a force you know nothing about,” Joan put in; she couldn’t help it. “But enough, both of you! Neither of you are doing any good keeping us together and alive, if that’s what you really want!”

“If the Mystery is so worth protecting,” Booksy Owly remarked, “why haven’t Lily, Cassy, or the murderer told us any more about it? Don’t they trust us? And I agree--let’s stop arg-”

“Yeah, why don’t they,” Hotairballoon interrupted coldly, joining the ring of standing CBers. “Why don’t they tell us all that they know?”

“Leave them out of this,” Dragonrider demanded. “You don’t see them arguing like barbarians.” She gestured to the fire pit, where Lily and Cassy were politely averting their eyes from the scene.

“Oh? And I wonder who the murderer could be,” Moonfrost snarled.

“Moonfrost, I’m starting to think it’s you,” Hotairballoon returned.

“Oh, quit it, don’t start that now!” Cinderpelt moaned, running to help Joan stop the battle. “Please, everyone--”

“I’m sorry, you three,” Dragonrider addressed Brooklyn, Booksy, and Moonfrost, “but if you want to go try to break the Mystery, go right ahead--just don’t drag us into it.”

“Maybe splitting up is just what we need right now,” Booksy Owly agreed.

“What?! No--”

Moonfrost interrupted Joan. “If that’s what you want to do, fine by me.” She was starting to feel guilty for losing her temper; everyone who’d been arguing was, for that matter.

“It’s for the best,” Dragonrider agreed.

Joan’s brow furrowed, and she and Cinderpelt shared a concerned glance. They realized, in that calm, discerning way of theirs, that with the AEs gone and very few mediators left alive, the tensions between the CBers were too powerful to suppress, and nothing could stop them from splitting into factions.

“We can’t do anything about it, Joan,” Cinderpelt murmured.

“But...splitting up?” Joan said, unable--unwilling--to accept it.

“We’re too wound up,” Moonfrost understood. “Let’s go off on our own for a while. Sorry, Dragonrider, for what I said,” she apologized.

“I’m sorry too. I know we’re both after the same thing--safety.”

“Safety?!” Joan cried. “Safety is not what happens when seven people split up in the wilderness!”

“WAIT, WHAT?!” Cassy hollered, having heard every word of Joan’s dismayed cry. “SPLITTING? UP?!”

Cassy and Lily raced over, but the murderer shot them a warning glance and they faltered, rearranging their expressions with comical haste. “Uh--uh--” Lily stammered, trying to replace her distress with a look of indifference.

Cassy succeeded more quickly than Lily, and coughed out, “It’s up to you guys, really. We’re staying out of everything.” Her tone betrayed her true feelings; she hated the idea, but she remembered her promise. She worked with the murderer, not the other Chatterboxers.

“Buuut,” Lily added slowly, stealing little glances at the murderer’s expression to make sure her words were acceptable, “if you do split up, we’ll have to go with you…”

“Lily, who do you keep looking at?” Moonfrost demanded, to which Lily jerked in surprise and snapped her eyes straight ahead, focused on nothing.

“You--I’m looking at you guys,” she spluttered.

“She definitely kept looking at someone,” Hotairballoon agreed. “Remember, they’re…,” he sighed and raked a hand through his hair, “they’re working with the murderer still.”

The group was silent. The air was filled with the unearthly crashing of the lake’s waves and the wind hissing over the sand and trees, which mirrored the CBers’ chaotic inner turmoil.

“We’re still coming with you,” Cassy asserted. “We still have to do our job!”

The other Chatterboxers sighed too; they understood why Lily and Cassy worked with the murderer; their chaperones were sided with the Mystery; they were the Mystery, essentially. They were entitled to their own actions, at any rate. The CBers shrugged and took it in stride, tired of arguing and, strangely, comforted by the fact that both parties would be accompanied by adults. No one could deny that Lily and Cassy’s presence would bring more good than harm to the situation.

“Alright, who’s going with who?” Lily asked, taking charge. Suddenly, Moonfrost and Dragonrider did not feel as in control as they wanted to.

“Who’s going with me?” Moonfrost put forth in an attempt to take the reigns.

“We will,” Booksy and Brooklyn Newsie chorused.

Nobody else spoke.

“That’s everybody else with me?” Dragonrider remarked, nodding at HAB, Joan, and Cinderpelt.

Joan gulped nervously but nodded back; so did the others, and then it was settled.

“I’ll go with Dragonrider’s group!” Cassy started, but abruptly changed her mind. “Actually nevermind. I’ll go with Moonfrost’s group.”

“And I’ll chaperone Dragonrider’s group, then,” Lily confirmed.

So it was settled. The Chatterboxers were splitting up--one group to the forest, one group to the shore. They would live as nomads for an indeterminate amount of time.

Joan and Cinderpelt were scared. Moonfrost and Dragonrider were excited. Lily and Cassy were exhausted. The others were tense.

However, the decision had been made--and what is talk without action? The schism had occurred.