This is a short post, but that's the way it has to be. 

Half an Hour Earlier:

Hotairballoon watched Joan disappear under the waves, not daring to lift his eyes from the water. This was it—the end. In about five minutes, Lelillo would dissolve and HAB would appear back at the Chatterbox.

He counted the seconds breathlessly. To his extreme anxiety, the climax did not seem to be over. More was on its way. Maybe she’s taking a while to describe Joan’s final moments. Maybe—maybe she’s doing a cutscene to Lily and Cassy.

He couldn’t delude himself anymore. Whatever was in store, it was out of his control. His job, at last, was finished.

Hotairballoon had been through too much over these past weeks. He’d been subject to endless stress, sleepless nights, painful negotiations, constant secrecy, deep loneliness, and a constant, skull-splitting migraine--with no choice in the matter. He had tested the strength of the Mystery, guarded his CBers, and done his best to keep them safe from the truth. His senses had caught every metaphor and instance of foreshadowing, aware of the author’s every move. He had upheld his duty for the sake of all ski lodges—for the sake of his Chatterbox and the Chatterbox of our reality—and he had not failed.

The reward of all his efforts relied upon this single moment.

About two minutes had passed after Joan’s disappearance when Hotairballoon felt himself begin to shake. It was harmless at first—wasn’t it just adrenaline?—but then the shivering turned to shuddering, which gave way to uncontrollable tremors that undulated from feet to head.

“No, no,” he muttered, taking a deep breath and lifting his gaze to the sky, willing the energy to stay concealed. His migraine worsened—was that possible at this point?—and he felt himself grow very, very cold. The fever, he realized numbly. Every moment that passed increased the pressure in his head until finally, he felt as though it might knock him out.

Hotairballoon stared at the water, horrified, as all he had ever done came crashing down around him. “STOP! JOAN, STOP!” he hollered, for now he knew—something terrible was happening at the bottom of Lake Lelillo. Stumbling hopelessly to the lake’s edge, he shouted—more for his own benefit— “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!”

The agony brought him to his knees, and he felt as though his limbs were on fire. The cracking sound was familiar and real this time—he heard it, and perhaps he was the only one who could—but the breaking of the Mystery had entered reality.

“Why?!” he uttered to the winds. “Was it all for nothing?!”

A roaring entered his ears, drowning out the thunder, trapping HAB in his own sphere of perception. He felt as though a thousand tons of weight had been thrust upon his shoulders, and he gasped as all air was forced from his lungs. Flashes of darkness obscured his vision—in them was a chain, glowing underwater, and himself, knocked forwards upon the shore. Sand, water, Joan…HAB heard her thoughts but could not comprehend them…

…And then, just as all seemed lost; just as the murderer was about to let go, there came a dull whoosh, followed by darkness and silence--total silence. Time fled the scene.

It's night. You're sitting in your bed, staring out the window, searching for something lost.

HAB was weightless. He was nothing but eyes watching the air float by, spinning aimlessly.

You can't remember what it is--or was. All you know is that it's out there...it's important...and it was once yours.

The space was almost peaceful, but Hotairballoon had lost the ability to focus and wasn’t conscious of the change in scenery. He spun senselessly…

Perhaps you never used it; perhaps you once did…

When suddenly, out of the formless gloom, he heard it—

But for some strange reason, you can't remember...

It was a horrible sound. A soundless sound. Ultrasonic, undetectable, but undoubtedly present.

Something moves across the front of the moon. Perhaps it's the fact that you're still half asleep, half awake that you can sense it, but a powerful force beats from it...

He didn't so much hear it as he saw it, and felt it--as if it were he who was the one breaking.

Calling you.

His floating eyes turned--and then it was there.

Presenting opportunities that you absolutely cannot miss.

At first it appeared to be nothing but a pen and notepad, bobbing gently in the nothingness, bright compared to its surroundings. But then it was a map; then, a popsicle, and a puddle with glowing yellow writing at the bottom. Hotairballoon floated closer, intrigued, like a child attracted to flame.

"In other words, Cassy, the Mystery is failing."

The object shifted--it was a cat-shaped note. A book. A thread on Cricket. A pie. A dark shadow flitting across the moon. A letter wedged between two couch cushions. It was everything at once, but the longer Hotairballoon looked, the less he could see.

"I took an advanced botany class--Wait, I did?"

"Hey, that's right!--I think?"

He was suddenly aware of an arm at his side.

"Lily, I'm sorry, but I have to do this. The Mystery is failing."

"F--failing?"

"Yes, surely you've noticed? The weird remembrances? The caves collapsing? The constant dizziness?"

It...it was his arm. Hotairballoon lifted it in confusion but couldn't see it; yet somehow, he knew what to do.

"Cassy, please just explain!"

"Lily, I want you to listen very closely to me. The Mystery is failing. I do not know why."

Hotairballoon held out his invisible hand.

"If the Chatterboxers figure this out--if they solve the Mystery--bad things will happen. We could die, Lily--"

Hotairballoon reached forwards…

…and he touched the Murderer’s Mystery.

“--Forever.”

Ice tingled through Hotairballoon's fingertips, immeasurably cold.

Too late, came a feeling from the deepest recesses of Hotairballoon's consciousness. The scene froze, and suddenly, two sentences ripped through his mind.

  My name is Joan B. of Arc. I am a Chatterboxer.

  The thoughts had no sooner echoed through Hotairballoon's head than out of the darkness came a terrible scream--his scream--accompanied by a shuddering explosion. Hotairballoon was suddenly blown backwards, the shattered remains of the Mystery chasing him all the way, until blackness overcame his thoughts and closed in on everything around him.

OH MY GOSH!! THEY CAME!! MY FIRST NOVEL IS IN PRINT!!!!!! Three days early!!!!

Pictures coming soooonn~

*uncontrollable smiling*

Just had to let some people know :D 

Day 22 - Part Three: Meeting

The slumber was paralyzing. Hotairballoon did not have enough strength to stir. Like tar, something swirled around him, stifling his senses. Every impulse was conceived in the spur of the moment and carried out immediately, only to die away for the next thought to flicker to life. Hotairballoon breathed in the moment, unaware of time’s passage, as one whose heart beats on the verge of death.

His mind had awakened, but his body remained like lead. As impulse upon impulse stacked up, Hotairballoon’s consciousness--if it can be called that--recognized that a chasm had opened within his brain. A restraint had been lifted and replaced with something new: The force governing Hotairballoon had mutated, and it hovered insidiously in the shadows of his thoughts. What had once been the Mystery urged him now into peace, lulling his memories away, ushering him into oblivion…It is fine. It is fine. Fall; join; become new.

HAB realized the danger just in time, just before he fell into the chasm.

Seven.

Resistance! 

Fourteen.

Like fuel in a carburetor, HAB’s consciousness flashed to life.

...Twenty-one…

He recognized the hole, latched onto action, and began to count up by sevens in an attempt to restore his focus.

Then, he fled the vicinity of the mental whirlpool by clutching his past tightly. It was the only item he possessed that could bind him to the memory of the Mystery. And only the memory of the Mystery would keep him safe from this dangerous new master lurking within him.

A fiery sting on the cheek brought the rest of Hotairballoon into awakeness, and all at once, his ears opened; he heard the rushing rain; his eyes opened in a flash, and he’d never been more grateful to see and hear and feel and smell.

This flood of stimuli washed out the numbing lull of the Anti-Mystery. By this point, Hotairballoon knew the worst was over. He’d outpaced the destruction. He was still the murderer.

And someone dragged him by the ankle through the sand.

“Uh!”

He flailed wildly, kicking his limb from Joan’s clammy grasp, and collapsed limply onto the flooding shore.

“Hotairballoon!” Joan reprimanded him, attempting to sound authoritative. She succeeded, but Hotairballoon did not concede to her attempt at dominion.

Parts of his mind had gone gray. Parts of his body felt gray. Something else lived where the Mystery once belonged.

He sprang to his feet, fueled by the memory of his old state of being. In memory, the Mystery lived on. Hotairballoon fed off of it. 

Joan leapt back, startled at HAB’s swift reaction, and whipped her dagger out of her boot. Hotairballoon ignored her, backpedalling away and spinning around to face the lake, mind racing. His migraine was absolutely, breathtakingly, one hundred percent better. All the aches and the mental chaos—done with. Over. Kaput. This was a horrible sign, and Hotairballoon expected the lights to go out at any moment. As soon as he could focus on the calming waters of Lake Lelillo, however, he discovered that the world was not as mangled as he’d expected--and he never could have predicted the sight that befell him:

The grayness, Hotairballoon found, was not solely confined to himself. Huge chunks of the property had suddenly lost their depth. Enormous areas on the water, swathes of cloudy sky, and patches of forest had been sucked dry of their vibrance. They were now gray and flat—no, they were nothing. The food stands were blotted out; so was the water park and the boathouse. Even more unnervingly, everywhere outside of Lelillo's boundaries--including the sky and the mountains beyond--had vanished. The property, once secluded and peaceful, was now a cold and isolated prison drifting in a void of nothingness.

“Joan, look at it!” he exclaimed, more to himself than her.

“S-Stay where you are! I have to ask you…” Her voice was tinged with awe as she trailed off. She couldn’t see the gray spots--but at the same time, she read the story and knew how the world appeared to Hotairballoon.

The whole landscape was alien and surreal, and the stillness was unbelievable. So the world didn’t come crashing down. It’s still raining—the ground is still here. I’m still here...Joan is here.

“I can hear your thoughts!” Joan exclaimed, aghast.

Hotairballoon laughed drily, feeling lighter and better than he ever had. All had been for naught, and yet all was not lost. Would Lily and Cassy still be alive?

“So you can, for now,” he remarked, whirling away from the eerie sight in order to face Joan. He stood about ten feet away from her, and she possessed a dagger. On the other hand, he was weaponless. However, he knew she would not harm him.

Joan looked battered, but the clarity in her eyes was jarring. She really had solved the Mystery. Hotairballoon wondered how long the effect would last.

“Stay where you are,” Joan repeated, and Hotairballoon frowned at her hardened expression.

“Why should I?”

Joan’s voice cracked. “I--have so many questions.” Emotion broke through, and HAB saw in her face that she did not view him as a monster anymore.

“Good,” he said aloud, knowing full well that Joan heard his musings about her. “Now, let’s go. You can ask them while we walk.”

Joan proceeded to batter HAB with questions. Her tone sounded unusually strong for someone who had basically drowned. Despite her weatherworn appearance, she caught up with HAB quickly and seemed to be in perfect control of her actions. “Are--are Lily and Cassy okay…?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m going to see. If I’m here, and we’re here, then surely they’re here.”

He set a brisk pace through the downpour, making certain to walk around any patches of nothingness looming nearby.

“Why didn’t the Mystery break because you knew about it? And how much did you know? Were you--are you--like a puppet? Being controlled? Are you even you right now? I’m sorry, by the way, and--How much do you remember of the farm story? All ski lodges? I’m sorry for the rush--but then--it’s fading--”

Joan broke off in frustration, and Hotairballoon knew that the transcendental link between worlds had dissolved. Fleeting and wonderful as it may have been, the experience could not last in an ongoing story. The narrative had reclaimed its character.

“I forgot what else I was going to say,” she muttered. “That was such a rush.”

“Hm.”

The mansion loomed closer. Mostly it was just ashes now, but heaps of beams stood like black mountains just up ahead.

“You’re lucky. I wish I could have seen the narrator’s words,” Hotairballoon sighed. “I will answer your questions, but listen up, since I’m not repeating anything. The Mystery has--had--me in a grasp. But unlike other murderers, I could see the hand. It didn’t harm the Mystery because I am--was--a part of it.”

“Not anymore?”

Hotairballoon threw her a sidelong glance. “It’s broken.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

He didn’t give Joan enough time to question his response. “I knew everything. More than you now know. No need for you to hear it. I am an extension of the Mystery. A murderer with a wide window of observation. Yes, I am--was--still am--a puppet. An interesting one, since I can see the puppetmaster. And half of me wanted to break of the strings. Like the Mystery, I also suffered ill effects over these weeks. So no, I’m not me in that sense. Still not.”

They arrived at the fallen manor. It was unrecognizable; most of it was nothing more than a pile of wood, carpet, and furniture crushed into an enormous heap. The wall and the front doors still stood, but they were marred with giant cracks and burn marks from the lightning.  Hotairballoon picked through the ashy remains of the reception room, which was dotted with ominous gray spots that one part of him felt inclined to jump into, until he came upon the hole in the ground that led into the basement.

“I knew--know--everything about all ski lodges. But only the information I need to know. It’s an unusual experience. You get used to it after a while.”

He was perfectly at ease explaining these things to Joan. The Mystery didn’t hold him back anymore. In fact, the new power in his mind encouraged the sharing of secrets. He had to be careful not to divulge too much. Nothing at this point could cause any harm--but Hotairballoon didn’t want to mistakenly step into a trap that would suck him into that mental black hole.

He and Joan descended into the lower levels in silence. Silence was the only response: Joan pondered everything she thought she’d known about HAB, and HAB pondered how nice it was that Moonfrost hadn’t been the last victim.

...Still, Joan was under outside control as well, whether she knew it or not.

The stairs were soaked, and the game room at their foot was flooded with an inch of water. Hotairballoon paused, hesitant to step into the liquid, fearing a loose wire might be contacting it. He didn’t see any sparks, though, and there was nowhere else for him to go, so he splashed down and continued. Success! Joan followed quietly. Her dagger was now back in her boot.

It was almost pitch black in the game room’s dreary ruins, but HAB still benefited from the ‘murderer’s gift’ (enhanced senses that came and went as needed), so he could see just fine. The sound of trickling water led him across the ruins to another staircase that declined steeply. Joan followed the sound of his footsteps.

A slow stream flowed down the staircase and through the opening at the bottom. A soft amber glow filtered out of the room, likely from a flashlight.

HAB and Joan shared a glance. How strange it felt to be allies! They descended the stairs and hurried into Lily and Cassy’s bedroom, dreading what they might find. 

-----------

@Cinderpelt - Thanks! Also, yup, it does mean that ;) 

Day 22 - Part Four: Destiny in a Box

Only the front of the room was wet; the rest was perfectly intact save for one giant crack in the ceiling. An old-fashioned flashlight stood up on the dresser between Lily and Cassy’s beds, illuminating the scene.

Hotairballoon let out a choke when he spied Lily and Cassy unconscious on their covers—it looked as though they’d barely had time to seek out a soft surface before collapsing. Pierre, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight.

They were here--but were they alive? 

Joan let out a gasp, and she rushed forwards to check on the chaperones. She heaved each one into the recovery position and declared that they were breathing.

Hotairballoon drew further into the room, stopping at the foot of the beds. His gaze swept solemnly over the slumbering chaperones, whose forms were solid; it seemed too good to be true. “That’s a relief,” he murmured. “Step back, Joan. I think I can wake them up.”

Joan hesitated only for a moment. She noticed for the first time, as he passed by, that HAB’s eyes flickered strangely.

“Are you okay?” she wondered, concerned for him despite all that had happened.

“Better than I’ve been in a while,” he replied, but his tone indicated distraction. He walked between the chaperones’ beds and turned first to Lily, whose mouth was open and drooling.

I’m lucky I didn’t pass out too, or we might have all just disappeared forever.

He grasped Lily’s limp wrist. There was no pulse in her veins, but as soon as his hand touched hers, she gulped for air and sat up as though surfacing from deep water. She glanced around wildly for a moment before focusing on Hotairballoon and coming to her senses.

"THE MYSTERY!" she gasped. “It wasn’t Joan’s fault—we saw it.” Hotairballoon felt her hand grow less solid in his grasp, and he squeezed it, placing another steadying hand on her wrist.

"Well, we always knew it would break, didn't we?"

Lily closed her eyes, frowning. "You might have—you’re a pessimist. We didn’t plan for this! What are we going to do?”

“The world didn’t end, and we’re still here. We’re going to try to save you. There’s still time, see? It’s not as bad as we thought it would be.”

Lily shook her head wordlessly. “You can’t see what I can see.”

“The gray spots?”

She shook her head. “Beyond Lelillo.”

Hotairballoon stilled uncomfortably and continued. "You're not as far gone as you think. There are still the memories," Hotairballoon reminded her. "There's still this ski lodge. The rules will remain for a little while, both in this realm and that one.”

Lily sighed. “Regardless.”

Joan watched the exchange wonderingly, sad she had sunken back into the ‘dream’. She could not follow the conversation as clearly as she would have liked, but she understood the parts about the Chatterbox realms.

"You need to transition," Hotairballoon concluded. "Abort mission. Leave this ski lodge. Your work here is done. We can break rules now, so it doesn't matter."

"But--"

"You're using too much energy staying solid. After you leave, I'll close things up. And you can try to open a ski lodge at the cabin on the mountain. It’s our best bet." Hotairballoon dared to risk some optimism: "Then we'll save the Mystery and it'll be fine."

“Wake Cassy up,” Lily demanded.

Leaving one hand on Lily's wrist, Hotairballoon reached to grab Cassy's. Although he gripped her tightly, Cassy’s eyes remained closed.

"Cassy." Hotairballoon spoke, but Cassy didn't stir.

"Cassy," he called a little louder, jiggling her arm.

Suddenly she gasped and sat up, gulping the air. Her form scintillated in and out like a blinking light. "I'mawake!"

"Cassy? You know the drill. Out of solid form.”

“What? So soon?” Cassy’s eyes fell on Joan. “It’s not over yet!”

"You have to, Cassy!"

Cassy looked across the gap of the two beds and met her sister's eyes. They told her everything she needed to know.

"Okay," Cassy conceded, voice stronger. Her frame stopped flickering.

“Oh, Hotairballoon. Thanks for all your help,” Lily said.

“And for not killing us,” Cassy agreed.

HAB allowed himself a small smile. “All in a day’s work. Be careful out there. Future murderers won’t be as…lucky as I was.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Cassy said.

“Let’s go.”

"Wait--" Joan said, blundering forwards. She wanted to tell them bye before they left.

Good-bye, Joan.

As Joan started forwards, she heard the sentence echo through her head, bypassing her ears, as if she had read the words without seeing them. She stopped short in surprise at the final taste of our reality.

"Good luck. We’ll try to open that lodge for you."

HAB released their arms quickly, and as he and Joan looked on, their chaperones simply...disappeared. They didn't fade; they didn't shimmer out of view...Joan blinked, and they were no more.

It was almost as if they'd never been there. "Th--they're gone!"

It had happened too fast.

Lily and Cassy were gone!

"Not really," Hotairballoon countered, not moving from his spot. "They're just in their...idea state. Their normal state. If they were gone, everything around us would dissipate into oblivion, including our memory of ski lodges.”

Hotairballoon was about to turn around and head for the exit when his gaze snagged on the picture frame hanging above Lily and Cassy’s beds—a long mural stretching from Lily’s bed to Cassy’s, depicting a snowy cabin in the woods. The painting was framed with an elaborate golden border—but HAB couldn’t make out all the details, because the picture had been swung open on hidden hinges to reveal a box-sized compartment in the wall. Papers spilled out from within.

Hotairballoon hadn’t noticed the secret chamber when he’d first come in. Now, he jolted in shock, feeling the urge to slam it shut and bar Joan from looking into the safe.

“That’s...a thing.” Joan couldn’t put the safe’s shocking contents into words. She had glanced within upon first entering the room.

HAB wheeled around fiercely. “You looked inside?!” Then he calmed down. “Doesn’t matter,” he realized. “Obviously.”

“Are they what I think they are?”

Hotairballoon nodded, but with gentle hands, he reached out and closed the safe. The painting swung around without so much as a squeak; it clicked back into place and shrouded the papers forever from view. This was the secret that had led to Puck’s death—the one secret that the Mystery’s existence hinged upon—the secret that explained its origin—the first and the last secret; the binding thread; the epitome; the origin; the downfall.

Both Joan and Hotairballoon understood the magnitude of what lay behind the image, nestled safely in that compartment. Joan sensed—and HAB knew—what it meant to lay eyes upon its contents. Lay eyes they had done, but only for a glimpse; it was unnatural; it was not their place to see what was written there; in averting their eyes, they honored the remnant of the Mystery, acknowledging its reign, mourning its demise, and hoping for its return.

In words, I have revealed a breath of what they saw. In words, I shall reveal no more, for the sake of future murderers that may, by the will of the force that was once the Mystery, also know this moment.

This is what Joan and Hotairballoon beheld. Look, and look well.

Day 22 - Part Five: All Good Things...

Hotairballoon headed briskly for the door, but he paused when Joan didn't follow.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked. "We need to finish the story."

Joan looked at him, summoning her courage. "I—I—Hotairballoon, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. And after all we did to…But it couldn’t have been me, HAB—What did you mean--when you said it wasn’t my fault?"

“First of all, Joan, thanks for…the support through everything. Even though none of you were quite yourselves at the end…There’s no question that it wasn’t you who broke it—you were just the tool being used.”

Joan gave him a questioning glance, and Hotairballoon beckoned her to the staircase again. Joan grabbed the flashlight and the two ascended towards daylight.

“It hasn’t just been the Mystery at work here. The other night, Lily and Cassy slipped into their idea state and glimpsed a bunch of other infected ski lodges. The source was the same throughout. Long story short…The Mystery is—was—at war with some kind of outside influence. And that influence is what led all of us to knowledge of the Mystery. Couldn’t you tell there was something wrong with Moonfrost? If I’d known sooner, I would’ve…” Hotairballoon trailed off. “Right now, though, the most important thing is getting out of here.”

“Where’s the exit?” Joan murmured.

Hotairballoon glanced at her, the faintest of sympathies emerging in his eyes. “If only.”

Joan sighed.

“Don’t worry, Joan. It’s not going to be any different from anything else that’s happened.”

They left the watery game room behind and mounted the last staircase.

“Did you suspect me at all?” Hotairballoon wondered.

“Yes—I thought it was either you or Moonfrost. At least, I knew it couldn’t have been Cinderpelt!”

HAB’s eyes glinted, either in amusement or…something else. “You knew it?”

Joan shrugged; the flashlight bobbed; the shadows danced. “Well. Not really.”

Hotairballoon sighed—a sound of content. “You have no idea how glad I am this is over.” Not only was he free from the migraine, but he was free from all secrecy. He could participate in what he had longed for most: candid conversation.

“Why did you protect the Mystery?” Joan asked softly.

“It’s not evil, Joan. All the bad things happened from the sickness. The influence, or whatever. Remember the farm story? Remember how...it wasn’t anything like this?”

She nodded somberly.

“The Mystery exists in two realms. It makes stories. It makes jokes. It made Lily and Cassy. It makes laughter, adventure, excitement…It’s important.”

Joan nodded. “It’s bigger than just us,” she supposed. “Then again...you are a part of it. Or, were. Right now.”

There could be no certainty until the ski lodge was over; Hotairballoon had said it himself. How did he know he was not being manipulated to believe in the importance of the Mystery? He couldn’t, but he reserved no room for doubt.

As Joan implored HAB’s expression, she noticed his eyes flicking oddly again—focusing, then unfocusing, sliding gently away, and snapping to focus again. “Are you okay?” she repeated.

This time HAB noticed her trained on his eyes. “Just a side effect. I’m having a hard time concentrating. If I don’t keep talking I’ll probably fade into the same unconsciousness that Lily and Cassy did.”

The pair emerged in the reception room and hurried out into open air. They stopped by the crumbled fountain and were met by a world silhouetted against a neon amber sky—more vivid than any sunset Joan had ever seen; it was aggressive and fiery, leaving no trace of blue—and it faded, towards the treetops, into potent red, followed by violet.

“You can’t see the gray spots?” Hotairballoon wondered.

“Not anymore.”

“Me either. I think this whole place is turning into one.”

Joan started suddenly. “Hey—where—what about Pierre?!”

HAB shook his head. “If he represents side characters—like the workers from the farm—then he’s in his idea state, too. If not, then he’s definitely fine. Either way, I’m not worried about him.”

The twilight was unnatural; the day had only just progressed into noon. The sun and moon were nowhere in sight, and the darkness caused the silhouettes of trees in the distance to look surreal, like sketch marks from a pencil.

“Well, now comes the end of the world,” Hotairballoon murmured with a dark twinkle in his eye.

“What?!”

“Not really. But the story’s over, and the chaperones are gone, so we’ve got to get out of here.”

The amber deepened to red, and violet darkened to black. Joan could’ve sworn she saw some of the trees disappear. When she turned uncomfortably away, staring down at her closest surroundings, she saw colors shifting, simplifying, and deconstructing. The cobblestone at her feet now resembled colored pencil.

Meanwhile, the lake was ablaze with all the colors of the sky: perfectly still, like a mirror of fire.

Joan’s mind refocused itself: there was no more future, only this moment. “I guess this is it—” Now she really wanted to leave; she shuddered to wonder what would happen if she began to dissolve.

Hotairballoon nodded, and Joan saw that his eyes no longer flickered. “Listen to me, Joan. I won’t be like this when we get back to the CB—none of us will. It’s all going to go back to normal, and we’re going to be cut off from the other dimension again. Some of us might be gone—if they’ve left the Chatterbox—Just—Do not forget the plan. Lelillo is going to end very suddenly. We won’t be under the author’s control. Keep your eyes peeled—Whatever happens—But we’re out of time now—The barriers are fading away. We get out now or stay here forever.”

Joan threw her fears away. “Do what you need to do.”

~ ~ ~

  There was a flash of light and Joan found herself transported out of Lake Lelillo and into the magical waiting room where all deceased Chatterboxers, Alter Egos, and CAPTCHAs go when the murder strikes.

  Joan’s vision was blurry at first, but it soon cleared. All her friends stood around her in what looked to be a creamy white cloud. The sky was blue and clear; everyone looked happy.

  “Oh my goodness,” Joan said, taking in the sight with joy. “I’m dead.”

  “Yep,” Spyro said, conjuring a donut out of thin air. “Welcome to the club. It’s not half bad here.”

Joan put a hand over her mouth. “It’s really over! But what about Hotairballoon…!”

~ ~ ~

Hotairballoon stood, cold, in the gathering nothingness. Only a sliver of purple was left up in the sky—and only the ground beneath his feet remained tangible. His heart pounded in his ears—Disappear, he willed himself.

Just as the nothingness tingled at his fingers and he felt gravity fading away, his vision went out, his consciousness fled Lelillo, and the Mystery (or what was left of it) receded from his mind.

Lelillo was gone; he was gone from it; he was himself again.

~ ~ ~

  WHOOSH.

  The clouds receded and the Chatterboxers in the waiting room felt themselves dissipate into thin air. There was a jumble of nothingness, the sensation of curtains dropping, barriers dissolving, and then—as though awakening from a very long dream—the CBers found their minds filled with clarity and unbounded knowledge. They landed on solid ground, fully themselves, back at the Chatterbox.

That is as far as I can write of them, for from this point on, they are no longer under my control.

The End 

Epilogue 

The story is over--for now. The Lake Lelillo ski lodge has come to its close. Three weeks have passed like three years in the blink of an eye. A single adventure with millions of outcomes has come to one conclusion; time has run out at long last, and now, the fate of the Mystery lies in your hands.

Every ski lodge begins with you. Whether you are chasing your dog, staring at a dead squirrel, flopping upon your couch, digging through homework, opening a letter, or sitting on your bed while gazing out the window, you are always at the beginning of any ski lodge.

In a moment such as that, you experience the Mystery. You and your CB self are one, bound together for a fleeting moment! Then, the two of you diverge. One becomes the character. The other becomes the witness.

I implore you; be vigilant—keep your eyes peeled—the CBers have their mission; now, you know yours. Never falter, because the fate of all ski lodges—and the Chatterbox itself—depends on you.

The ski lodge is over, but the story is not. Yet again, its outcome remains uncertain. As guardians of TON’s legacy, you face a pivotal decision—Will you work towards the restoration of the Mystery, or will your actions ensure its final extermination?

If the former is your goal, preserve as much of the Murderer’s Mystery as you can. Stay true to your ski lodges. Join the mission if you can. Perhaps time will heal, or perhaps greater action will be required.

If destruction is your aim, I leave you no advice. Chaos will make itself apparent; you need only run with it. One of you has already done so.

If you have been diligent to take note of the clues offered here, the path will be clear. But I digress: The choice is yours. Until we meet again!

And above all, heed the murderer’s advice: Do not let what broke the Mystery break you.

THE END

*flourishes*

The end!

*wipes brow*

Wow. Thank y'all for reading. I hope the story was to your satisfaction. 'Twas fun to write, and thrice as nice to share.

The ending happened the way it did because since before Lelillo even started, I'd planned on a third installment. If any of you are interested, well, the entire thing is plotted out...Based on my track record, though, not sure if starting another ski lodge is a wise idea. (Pff. I'm supposed to have left the CB.) We'll see.

Now I can give you some behind-the-scenes info/biggest clues! (Just three, since I've got to go now.)

~In the murderer's poisoned water game, there was a poison called Arithonium...Otherwise known as "Hotaironium".

~One of the murderer's games was capture the flag. Briar & her team stole Team Two's flag and was about to win, but the other team got victory first. HAB broke the news, interrupting Joan: "'Hey, it was a good try, Jayfeather and Briar...We almost won, but they got our flag in the end.' He, too, looked disappointed that Team One hadn’t won."

Looking back, that's super vague, but great job if you caught the foreshadowing/symbolism! It either represents how the CBers tried to win against the murderer/Mystery, and failed, and/or how the CBers + HAB tried to protect the Mystery, and failed. Failures all around. :3

~Cinderpelt=Aurora (desert of white); Dragonrider=Cirrus (her own story to tell, but so little time); Brooklyn Newsie=Ebony (ebony void/chasm); Jayfeather=Deadfall (the house fell apart on him); Joan=Mirage (she saw through the mirage & solved Mystery); Moonfrost=Candid (she wasn't candid; she was being controlled by outside influence); Autumn Leaves=Petrichor (gentle, sweet); Booksy Owly=Moonscape (all I had left to choose from XD); Hotairballoon=The Water (nameless, hidden, most important).

Wow. *hyperventilating* 

Mice, that was absolutely awe-inspiring!!!! I can't express my amazement as well as she can, so, um, what Luna said^^^^

It was so perfect, perfect, PERFECT. You did it so so well, and I'm so so proud! Sadly, I'm not quite so familiar with the Farm Story (should read that, I'm sure it's awesome!), but if I could buy Lake Lelilo in print, I would. It's one of the best stories I've ever read (and I've read a lot of books!). I'm not exaggerating when I say this will be one of the greatest Ski Lodges ever written, read, and completed with flying colors. If not, which is highly impossible, it will definitely be #1 in our books.

Thank you for this wonderful, amazing, notenoughwordstodescribe masterpiece!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I really enjoyed it!!!!!!!!!

^^

- Jwyn <3

Sorry this is late. I hope you're able to see it.