@Silver, yes Echo indeed! And thank you <3

@Darkvine, I think this ski lodge is like 80% ominousness and foreshadowing and like 20% everything else :P 

Day 7, Part 3 

The entrance hall was beautiful this evening. Glittering fairy lights had been strung up on the mantelpiece and around the walls, and the memorial had been freshly decorated with flowers, the candles softly shining. Outside, everyone was dancing, whatever upbeat song that was playing on the speakers rising above the din of chatter and laughter. 

The murderer felt sick.

The entrance doors opened and then slammed shut behind the murderer, ushering in a draft of cold air. “Hey! I guess you came in here to get away from it all, too. Care for a glass of sparkling cider?”

The murderer flinched, startled, and spun around. A second later, Tsuki lay on the ground, motionless, her neck snapped, the glass of sparkling cider shattered across the floor, glass shards glittering in the fairy lights' glow. 

“I'm sorry,” whispered the murderer.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Each word echoed in time with the murderer's pounding heartbeat, with the pounding of blood in their ears. The murderer ran outside, disappearing into the party like nothing was wrong.

Everything was wrong. 

~~~

Echo had to tell someone about what she’d figured out. She looked around frantically, driven by the need to share her revelation. 

“Writing! Writing!” 

Writing whirled around at the call of their name. “Echo! What's going on?” he asked. “Has someone—”

“Died? Er, no, not that I know of,” said Echo, breathless, “but I think what I've figured out is even worse than another death.” 

“Whoa, wait, what happened? Just—just take a deep breath, calm down, and then tell me everything.”

“Okay.” Echo took a slow, deep breath, before blurting out, “I think Socie's in league with the murderer and we were all brought here to die.” 

“Wait, what?” Writing asked, incredulous.

Echo sighed. “Artemis was found in Socie's room right? But she doesn't allow anyone in there. And yet, both the murderer and Artemis had entered Socie's office at some point.” 

“Okay, yes, sure.” Writing nodded.

“I bet Artemis was looking around for clues, which would explain her being in Socie's office. And if that's indeed what happened, then that would mean that the murderer likely killed Artemis because—”

“—she discovered too much,” finished Writing grimly.

“Exactly. So, it would make sense that Socie and the murderer are working together, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I don't like this, though. Socie seems so...nice. I don't know. Why would she want us dead, anyway?”

Echo shook her head slightly. “That's where I get stuck. There's no obvious motive. We haven't even met her before coming here.” She tapped her finger on the refreshments table, thinking. “We’ve got to investigate.” 

And so, beneath the fairy lights, Writing and Echo schemed, not knowing how their actions would affect Lockaria House and, ultimately, doom them all.

Sterling, Hex, and Silver Crystal danced and laughed, trying desperately to enjoy themselves, because they knew it wasn't long before someone's body was found, or before they themselves were killed.

Ronin lurked by the refreshments table, watching his CBer, fearing for them, and remembering Oliver — remembering how his fellow AE had died right before his eyes, and he hadn't done anything. Remembering how guest after guest died, and he hadn't done anything. Remembering, and regretting, and swearing he wouldn't let the same thing happen to Writing.

Reuby played with Wiccan on the edge of the forest, because being with the others was unbearable, because watching the others laugh and dance and pretend like nothing was wrong was impossible. People were dying, the world was falling apart, and Reuby wasn't going to pretend everything was perfectly all right. 

Firelily, who had gone inside intending to grab their party hats, screamed, alerting everyone that Tsuki was dead. Everybody flocked to the scene and tried to comfort Firelily, but they didn't want to hear any of their kind words. They stumbled up to their room and closed themselves in.  

Socie insisted that everybody go back outside and enjoy the party, that she would try to speak with Firelily. So, reluctantly, everyone walked back outside. The stereo blared an upbeat song, and everybody danced, but their movements were automatic, and their minds were someplace else.

The ancient power, lying deep beneath the earth, waiting for the right moment to put its plan into action, watched them all, and saw everything. 

And the fairy lights glowed brighter than the stars.

~~~

Alive: 8

Dead: 7 (Pangolin, Oliver, Daisy, Eclipse, Kyanite, Artemis, Tsuki)

@Silver, thank you so much! and i love reading your theories! your comments always make my day <3

@Chaser & Jay, perhaps he is the murderer, perhaps he isn't. who knows? well, I do. but I'm not going to tell you >:)

Day 8, Part 1

Most of the guests decided to sleep in late. This was understandable, of course, because they had spent all of last night and a bit of that morning partying like there would be no tomorrow — which, for a great many of them, was not far off from the truth.

Sometime midmorning, however, the guests' hunger outweighed their tiredness, so they reluctantly pulled back their covers, dressed, and stumbled down the stairs into the dining hall. 

Socie was nowhere to be seen — still asleep in her bedroom, the guests figured. 

“Have you guys noticed anything...odd about Socie lately?” asked Silver. 

Echo and Writing exchanged a glance. Oh, other than the fact that she's quite possibly working with the murderer to kill us all for some unknown reason? Then no, nothing odd at all, why do you ask? 

“Well, now that you mention it, she has seemed kind of tired lately. Sort of distant as well...,” Sterling mused.

“I mean, almost half of her guests are dead. So I don't think there's anything too odd about her considering the circumstances,” reasoned Firelily.

Silver shrugged, and they all decided not to wake Socie and instead prepare breakfast themselves. Silver and Firelily made pancakes that actually turned out pretty well. Writing and Hex raided the pantry for adequate pancake toppings, and Ronin and Echo set the table, complete with a nice tablecloth. Reuby fed Wiccan and Wraith (and had to step in to stop the two pets from fighting and killing each other). Sterling arranged a glass of orange juice and a plate full of pancakes on a tray and brought it up to Socie's room. 

While they ate breakfast, everyone began to figure out what they'd do for the rest of the day.

“You know, I was thinking about going boating and, um, maybe exploring Starr's Island? It seems kind of cool,” Hex said. She was met with enthusiasm; Silver and Sterling both decided to join her.

“What about you guys?” Silver asked the others. “Want to come?”

Echo glanced at Writing. “Um, no, actually. I think Writing and I were going to stay here and...read.”

“But that's boring,” muttered Ronin. 

“You don't have to stay here,” Writing told him. “Why don't you join Hex, Sterling, and Silver? Who knows, it could be fun!”

Ronin sighed. He wanted to get his mind off everything that was bothering him, sure, but he didn't want to leave Writing alone. What if—

“Please?” asked Writing. “Just try to enjoy yourself. For me?”

“Fine,” he sighed. 

Writing let out a breath, relieved. It would make it so much easier to investigate with Echo if he didn't have to worry about Ronin getting involved in things. They didn't want to put another AE in danger.

Once everyone had finished eating and cleared the table, all the guests began to go their separate ways. Hex, Silver, Sterling, and Ronin went down to the lake, Reuby brought Wiccan outside to run around, and Firelily decided to go check out the garden. Echo and Writing loudly explained that they would be heading up to the library to find some interesting books, and then they would go find somewhere to read. 

Writing and Echo walked up the stairs to the second floor and then darted inside Echo's room. “Okay, here's the plan,” whispered Echo. There were no other guests in the house, and Socie was still in her room at the other end of the hallway, but it still felt right to whisper. “I'm gonna check out Socie's office, and you can look in Artemis's room, in case she left any notes or whatever of her discoveries.”

“But Socie's bedroom is right next to her office!” protested Writing. “That's way too risky.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Echo said, gesturing to the sword and dagger she always carried.

Writing hesitated for a moment. “Fine. Just—just be careful.”

“Of course.” Echo stepped out of her room and tiptoed down the hallway into Socie's office. That's when she encountered her first problem: she had completely forgotten that Socie's office was locked. Echo was now faced with two options: use this setback as an excuse to stop investigating and stay on Socie's (and the murderer's) good side, or figure out a way around this and potentially discover what was going on here, and save her fellow guests — even if it meant she was to die. 

It was not at all a difficult choice to make. 

Echo took out her knife and jiggled the tip in the keyhole. After a few long, agonizing seconds, the lock clicked, and Echo let out a breath. She slowly opened the door and slipped inside Socie's office.

~~~

At the other end of the hallway, Writing had entered Artemis's room. The good news was that the room was unlocked; the bad news was that — aside from the neatly made bed, the dresser, and the bedside table — the room was completely bare. Socie must have cleaned it up after Artemis's death.

Writing refused to think that he had come in here for no reason. They started checking inside the dresser, under the bed, inside drawers. But there was nothing. 

As he turned to leave, utterly disappointed, a floorboard creaked and bounced beneath his foot. They froze, and shifted their weight onto their other foot.

Creak.

Yes, the floorboard was loose all right. Writing dropped down to his knees and pried up the floorboard.

Maybe it's nothing—

But there, lying beneath the floorboard, was a notebook. Writing stuffed the notebook in his pocket, put the floorboard back in place, and then tiptoed across the hallway into Echo's room.

But not before he heard a sort of shuffling noise from Socie's room. 

Oh no. 

Their host was awake, and Echo was still inside her office.

~~~

Alive: 8

Dead: 7 (Pangolin, Oliver, Daisy, Eclipse, Kyanite, Artemis, Tsuki)

@Silver, thank you so much! and I love reading your theories :)

@Writing, aah thank you! I'm so glad you like it :) and yes!! the host-working-with-the-murderer is one of my favorite ski lodge tropes!! :) 

and I'm very sorry about the wait (and how lengthy this part is) :/ 

Day 8, Part 2

It is said that in the days of yore, a star fell out of the night sky and landed in Alaway Lake. The Night Goddex formed the island with their dark magickal energy as a resting place for the fallen star. Even now, although the Goddex and star are long gone, Starr’s Island is full of memories and ghosts of the past. On moonless nights like this, when the stars above shine the brightest, you can supposedly still hear the Night Goddex softly singing their incantations....

It was a perfect day for boating. It was rather warm for autumn, but it was still fairly cloudy, with a gentle breeze sending leaves skittering across the forest floor. Alaway Lake was a brilliant stained-glass blue, and Starr's Island loomed, a dark ink blot on the horizon.

But before the guests got into their boats, they all made sure their life jackets were, in fact, life jackets and not weighted vests. No one wanted a repeat of how Eclipse died.

“Honestly, that was a kind of dumb way to kill someone,” remarked Ronin.

“Dumb, but effective,” muttered Hex.

“And what makes you say that? Are you the murderer?” asked Sterling. 

“What? No! I'm just stating the facts. Eclipse is dead, isn't she?”

“Well, if Hex was indeed the murderer, I doubt she'd go around bragging about how she killed people,” Silver put in.

“Look. We can't just keep accusing each other,” said Hex. “That's not going to get us anywhere. But we do have to do something.”

Ronin adjusted his life jacket, fidgeting with the straps. He wanted to stop the murderer more than anyone, but at a certain point...what was there that could be done? 

Silver sighed. “Can't we just enjoy ourselves for once? It's a beautiful day.”

The deaths had weighed down on them all. Pangolin. Oliver. Daisy. Eclipse. Kyanite. Artemis. And, most recently, Tsuki. 

Was it so much to ask for that burden to be lifted, for just a second? Was it really so terrible to want to forget everything that had happened this past week? 

So Hex smiled at Silver. "Okay.”

Hex and Silver clambered into one canoe and the other two pushed them out into the lake. Sterling and Ronin followed in another canoe shortly after.

“Race you guys to Starr's Island!” Hex called, and she and Silver took off paddling. 

“Hey!” Sterling and Ronin began to paddle quite aggressively, determined to win despite the others' head start.

It was then that Ronin lost hold of his paddle, and it went drifting out into the lake. He tried to reach for it, despite Sterling's warnings, and the canoe lost its balance and capsized. Despite himself, Ronin shrieked as they were both thrown into the lake. Thankfully, they were close to Starr's Island at that point, so it was only a short swim to shore. Hex and Silver had already landed on the island, so they helped haul Sterling, Ronin, the canoe, and both paddles (Ronin had managed to grab his) onto shore. Ronin and Sterling were soaking wet, but the whole scenario was, honestly, quite ridiculous, so Sterling started laughing, and Silver and Hex laughed along with them. Even Ronin started to smile, but then he quickly turned it into his usual scowl.

“So, this is Starr's Island, huh?” Ronin asked, determined to change the subject. 

Everyone looked around. The island was relatively small, and the ground was soft and covered with pine needles and fallen leaves. The trees here were crooked and gnarled and bent out over the lake, and they were beautiful, and ancient, and wise. Their bark was rough and dark, contrasted by the brilliant red-gold canopy. Overall, it was not unlike the rest of the Osorthe Forest, but there was a certain dimension that made it something more. Maybe it was the fact that the guests technically had never gotten permission from Socie to be here, maybe it was the fact that it was isolated from the rest of the forest. Maybe it was how every creak of the trees in the wind and every rustle of the leaves seemed to say listen, as if those trees held secrets, as if those trees had been silent for far too long. 

“So? Wanna explore?” asked Sterling, breaking the spell the trees seemed to have over the guests. Their gaze snapped from the trees and onto Sterling. Silver and Hex both thought Sterling’s suggestion was a brilliant idea and wandered off, but Ronin complained about his soaking wet clothes and opted to stay by the canoes. 

Ronin kicked a pebble. It went skittering into the lake, sending out ripples that shattered the mirror-like water.

Ronin said he was okay. He made light of the murders, pretended like he didn't care.

Of course he cared. Seven people were dead, including Oliver. And who knew — Writing might be next. 

Ronin crouched next by the shore, staring at his reflection in the murky water. “Writing won't die,” Ronin told his reflection. “He won't.”

“Oh, are you an AE too? I used to sound just like that about my CBer....”

Ronin whirled around. A boy a little younger than Ronin sat criss-cross atop a fallen log, smiling brightly, his white-blonde hair falling into his face. Ronin had never seen this person before. “Hi there,” said the boy. Ronin screamed, reflexively stepping backwards right into the lake. Cold water seeped into his shoe, sending goosebumps racing across his skin. Well...the chill might not have been the only thing responsible for his goosebumps.

Sterling, Hex, and Silver appeared, bursting through the foliage. “We heard a scream. Is—” started Sterling, but then her gaze fell upon the boy sitting atop a log. He turned to them, still smiling. 

“Who...how...what?” Hex stammered.

Ronin recovered from his shock and sprung forward towards the boy. “Who are you and how do you know I'm an AE?”

“I'm Lucas, but you can call me Lucky,” said the boy, extending a hand. No one shook it. “And it’s like I said before. You sounded just like I used to. I wanted so badly to save Hedera....” He shook his head softly, but then smiled. “Oh, no matter. So, you guys are vacationing here?”

“Well, we're supposed to be,” Silver said, surprised at how she could keep talking as if there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary going on. “Although, to be honest, this...vacation has not gone the way we'd expected....”

“Oh. Did someone die?” asked Lucky, eyes full of sympathy.

“Yes, actually. Um, multiple someones,” said Hex. “How'd you know?”

Sterling was standing back, observing the scene. Something bothered them about this whole situation. Something just wasn't right. There was Lucky, still sitting atop the fallen log, and there was Ronin and Hex and Silver, and there was a jagged slab of stone propped against a tree, and there were three letters scratched into the stone: R. I. P.

...oh. 

“Lucky, er, well...." Sterling faltered. "Um, I don't want to be rude, but, er...you're a ghost, aren't you? You're...dead, right? And that's your gravestone, isn't it?" 

Silver's gaze fixed on Lucky. His pale skin, the shadows beneath his eyes — in the right lighting, he looked disturbingly skeletal.

A week ago, it would've been difficult to believe she was staring at a ghost. But seven people were dead, killed off by one of their own, and...nothing seemed particularly far-fetched anymore. 

Lucky smiled. “You got me!” he said with false enthusiasm, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. “I'm a ghost.”

“But...but...how?” stammered Ronin.

Lucky shrugged, gazing out at the lake. “I don't know exactly. All I know is that Hedera — my CBer — brought me with her to Lockaria House. People started dying one by one and I remember thinking, I'll protect Hedera. I won't let her die. But then I went boating and my life vest had been slashed, and...Hedera wanted to save me, I know she did, but she couldn’t. No one could. She...she brought me here, though. To Starr’s Island. And she buried me. I couldn’t save her, but she...she did all she could to help me.” He swallowed, and his eyes darted towards his feet. “I don't know what happened to Hedera, but you guys are new here, so that probably means that she isn't...um, alive.” He smiled weakly. “Anyway, all I know is that about, oh, a week or so ago, I came back. As a ghost.”

Hex’s mind drifted unbidden to the story Socie had told around the campfire, all those nights ago. She couldn’t have known Lucky’s ghost was here, right? She couldn’t have known....

Hex really wasn’t sure who she could believe — or trust — anymore.

~~~

Alive: 8

Dead: 7 (Pangolin, Oliver, Daisy, Eclipse, Kyanite, Artemis, Tsuki) 

@Silver, thank you so much!! for reading and for commenting and for the theories and for just being awesome. your comments always make my day <33

Day 8, Part 3

Wraith liked to think he was a very loyal cat. He had never belonged to anyone besides Socie (or if he had, he couldn’t recall), and she was his, just as he was hers. True, there were some times he could barely tolerate Socie’s upbeat attitude and her tendency to give him cuddles whenever she saw him — even when he was clearly contemplating life and had no time for cuddles. But overall, he quite liked Socie. And besides, she fed him. So Socie Grishelm, host of Lockaria House, was where his loyalties lay. 

Wraith would do anything for Socie. Even if it meant putting up with that insufferable wolf Wiccan. Even if it meant leading a certain guest out to Alaway Lake in the middle of the night so that they could prepare for the next murderer. 

Wraith really wasn’t that different from the murderer, if you really thought about it, Wraith figured; both had been chosen to do Socie’s bidding, and both didn’t really have any other choice in the matter, and both had a task they were required to complete. Or else.

(The threat of ‘or else...’ always hung suffocatingly in the air. No one dared finish the sentence. They just did their job, however awful that job might be, because they knew that the alternative was far, far worse.)

Wraith was beginning to sympathize with the murderer.

~~~

Adrenaline coursed through Writing’s body, every muscle telling him to do something — but fear froze them in place. Right down the hallway, Echo was still in Socie’s office, rifling through papers, opening drawers. And further down the hallway, Socie had woken up. He could hear Socie, walking around, presumably getting ready for the day (even though it was already noon). 

If Socie came out of her room, if she saw Echo and Writing, it would all be over for them. 

No. 

Writing forced himself into action, darting to Socie’s office. “Echo! Socie’s coming. You have to get out of there. Now!” he hissed frantically.

Echo held up a finger, her attention fixed on a stack of papers with words scrawled in bright red marker. “Just a second, Writing. This...this feels important.” 

“We don’t have a second!” Writing shot back, their whisper dangerously loud. He quickly scanned the hallway for a diversion, anything to keep them from being caught. Well, there was Wraith, staring at them with disdain, but what was Writing supposed to do with a cat? 

“Echo, come on!” Writing tugged on her sleeve desperately. Finally, Echo’s attention snapped away from the papers, just as the knob on Socie’s bedroom door began to turn. The pair raced out of the office, stumbling over the long rectangular carpet covering the floorboards. The rug slid and bunched up beneath their feet.

“Wait, the papers!” Echo glanced over her shoulder, at the papers cluttering Socie’s desk — in her haste, Echo had failed to put them away. With the papers out in the open, Socie would be able to figure out that someone had been in her office.

A solution popped into Writing’s head. He didn’t like it, but they didn’t have enough time to come up with something different. He scooped up Wraith, ignored Wraith’s protests, muttered an apology, and placed the cat onto Socie’s desk. 

The two guests slipped into Echo’s room and shut the door. Echo collapsed onto her bed, while Writing sat down heavily on the floor. They sat there in silence, waiting for their pounding hearts to return to normal. 

Out in the hallway, a door slammed shut. 

“What in the—” That was Socie’s voice. “Wraith! What are you doing? Get down from there! Shoo!” 

Writing winced. The poor cat.

“You know these papers are important. We can’t have anyone seeing them,” Socie muttered, but not quite low enough that Writing and Echo couldn’t hear her. The two guests exchanged glances. 

Socie sighed. “I’m going to go see what all the guests are doing. And as for you...don’t get into any more trouble, you hear?” Her footsteps sounded down the hall before fading as she walked downstairs.

Echo and Writing both let out a relieved breath.

“Did you find anything?” Echo asked. 

“Yeah, this notebook. I think it must’ve belonged to Artemis.” Writing took the notebook out of his pocket and handed it to Echo. It was a small leather bound notebook, perhaps about the size of someone’s hand if their fingers were splayed out. It was worn, but it didn’t really give off old-magical-grimoire vibes — no, it was the sort of worn that suggested someone, most likely an adventurous soul and lover of fantasy books, had selected that notebook because it gave old-magical-grimoire vibes, and had loved and cherished and poured their soul into that notebook. 

“Should we...open it?” Echo asked, looking down at the notebook. It seemed rather invasive.

Writing bit their lip as his conscience wrestled with itself. Finally, he decided, “If it’ll help us get to the bottom of whatever’s going on here, if it’ll help stop the deaths...I think we should open it.” 

Echo nodded shakily, undid the buckles holding the notebook closed, and opened it to the first page. But her brow furrowed as she began to read the words written there.

“What?” asked Writing, leaning forward to peer at the journal. 

“I...I don’t think this is Artemis’s handwriting,” Echo said slowly. “I don’t think this notebook belonged to anyone here.” 

“It still might hold a clue,” Writing said, clinging to whatever hope there was left, because the alternative was to give up, and he couldn’t live with himself if he gave up. “Can you read it aloud?” 

Echo nodded, cleared her throat, and began to read, “‘I arrived at Lockaria House today. It’s absolutely beautiful here — in midsummer, the Osorthe Forest is a deep, verdant green and the Alaway Lake is a beautiful deep blue, and thankfully, it isn’t too hot here. Our host Irene is perfectly nice, but she does seem a little too nice. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Anyway, it’s time for s’mores, so that’s enough journaling for tonight.’” Echo glanced up. “It’s signed ‘Carnelian’. Never heard that name before.” 

Echo and Writing were prepared to spend the rest of the day puzzling over the notebook, but they were interrupted by a voice — Silver Crystal’s — in the hallway calling, “Echo? Writing? It’s lunchtime!” 

Echo hastily shoved the Carnelian’s notebook underneath her pillow, and she and Writing headed down to the dining room. Their examination of the notebook could wait.

~~~

Wraith was sulking in the garden, crouched beneath a particularly leafy hosta plant, glaring at the world. He was angry at Socie, because she had reprimanded him and then put him outside. He knew that whatever those papers had to do with was important to her, and her reaction made sense, but it still stung. 

He was angry at Writing and Echo, who had gone snooping through Socie’s stuff, who had uncovered things they shouldn’t have, who had gotten him in trouble in the first place.

He was angry at all the guests, really, because they had come to Lockaria House and they had made a mess of everything.

Footsteps padded on the soft ground in front of Wraith.

Curse these guests, Wraith thought. He couldn’t even mope about in peace anymore. Just as he was about to emerge from the hosta plant to glower at whatever guest had disturbed him, another pair of shoes darted by. A muffled shout, a clunk, and a thud sounded. Wraith nudged aside the white-tipped leaves of the hosta plant and came to sit beside the murderer, who was kneeling beside the body of a person with gray hair, limp feathery wings, and blood trickling from a wound on their forehead. A heavy pair of hedge shears lay obediently at the murderer’s side.

“I’m sorry, Sterling,” muttered the murderer. “I—” 

Wraith pushed his head into the murderer’s hand, forcing them to pet him. 

“Wraith, what are you—” 

At the murderer’s feet, Wraith dropped the piece of paper he had been holding in his mouth. On the front, a form in size twelve Verdana font, profiling a specific guest. And on the back, scrawled in bright red marker, the day on which and the method of how that particular guest would be killed.

The murderer smiled softly, their grin a ghost of its former self. They knew what they had to do for the next guest. The end was in sight — now that Sterling had been killed, the dead now outnumbered the living. Soon, this would all be over. Soon, they could go home.

Things were beginning to look up. 

Wraith’s tail flicked back and forth. They were supposed to be loyal to Socie, but Socie had brought all these guests here. Socie had ruined Wraith’s life. Well, the murderer had had their life ruined by Socie’s grand scheme as well. 

Wraith glanced at the murderer, his yellow eyes glowing. Perhaps his loyalties had changed.

~~~

Alive: 7

Dead: 8 (Pangolin, Oliver, Daisy, Eclipse, Kyanite, Artemis, Sterling)