Thanks, Wren :D That really made me happy. Also, I think you posted your form for Palace of Dreams on this ski lodge on accident.

Day 5 Part 3

Sam, Miyetka, and Sempreverde crowded around the foosball table, watching an intense game between Zealatom and Indigo. 

Zealatom, who was controlling the little red people, turned one of his rods, and one of his figures smashed into the ball, sending it back towards Indigo’s goal. Indigo reacted quickly and blocked his shot.

Sempreverde grinned at Sam, who would be facing the winner. “The finals should be interesting.”

“If we have another tournament, you can play instead of me,” Sam promised.

The ball rolled past Indigo’s defenses and into her goal. Indigo groaned. Looking at Sempreverde and Sam as she retrieved it, she noted that they had quickly become friends after what the guests had dubbed “the key lime pie incident.” Indigo loved stories about the interesting ways people were brought together, and this one had to be one of her favorites. She glanced around, her eyes lingering on the warmth in her fellow guests’ eyes, wishing she could paint a picture of the scene. 

Well, without the score keeper so no one would know that Zealatom was beating her 7-2.

Oh, right, the game. Indigo hastily placed the ball in the serving hole and gripped her rods.

She managed to score two points against Zealatom, but not without him earning another, too. That made it 8-4. And after Zealatom got his ninth point, he was one away from victory.

“Go, Zealatom! Go, Indigo!” Sempreverde cheered.

Indigo and Zealatom continued to play, hitting the ball with such force that it flew out of the table a few times. When the ball entered the playfield again, Zealatom quickly got it in Indigo’s goal. 

“Good game,” she said, offering her hand to him. He shook it with a smile, then turned to Sam. “Sam? It’s on.”

The door swung open. Jasmine, Briar, and Wren stood outside, peering into the rec room. “Foosball tournament,” Miyetka explained.

“Oh.” Jasmine gestured for Wren to go in, which they did. “Guests, can you all introduce yourselves?”

The guests obliged, including Wren. “Do you have any questions about anything?” Briar asked them once everyone had finished.

“Uh, yeah,” Wren answered, fidgeting.

“What are they?”
“What’s your story? How did you end up here?”

Briar looked at Jasmine. She frowned and waved a hand at the doorway. The two hosts stepped outside, gently shutting the door. 

When it opened, Jasmine smiled at the guests. “We might as well go to one of the living rooms and get comfortable. It’s a long story.”

Dead: 4(Moon Wolf, Hawkstar, Darkvine, Azrael)

Alive: 6(Indigo, Zealatom, Sempreverde, Miyetka, Sam, Riddle_wren)

I'm really excited to post the host's story. Admins, I have it on Google Docs, and it's more than three Google Doc pages. My font size is 10. Is that too long for one post? Do you want me to separate it into two parts?

I don't know that there's any limit on the length of submissions to be reviewed and posted. But it might be easier for us to review and others to read if you separate it into two parts.

Admin

Day 5 Part 4

Sitting in the living room they had used to watch the movie, the guests filtered out all distractions, listening as Jasmine’s voice carried them away from the mansion and to a tiny city none of them had ever heard of. 

Rows of pastel houses lined cobblestone streets. Their occupants could step outside, walk or bike for a few minutes, and reach wherever they wanted to go: schools, work, parks, shops. Laughter filled the air as children chased each other outside, occasionally pausing to wave to people they knew as they strolled by. The children often passed flower beds on the sidewalks as they ran, but they never paid them much attention. Except for the little girl who was named for one of the blossoms in the beds. Camellia.

Camellia’s parents had always struggled to make ends meet. They didn’t come home from their jobs at one of the town’s factories until late, and often they found their daughter sound asleep when they stepped into the house. Her teachers inquired about the shadows under her eyes from all the nights she curled up on the floor, watching a small flame from the candle in front of her dance, waiting for her parents to come home. Camellia missed her mother and father. Why couldn’t her family be like her friends’? Was there somewhere else out there where everything would be better? 

Sometimes she knelt and stared at the flower she shared her name with, the one that was often overcome by the others. It was like her: trapped. She would stroke its petals, her mind straying to someplace far away. People on the streets glanced at the girl with her worn, too-tight shirt, the same pink as the bloom she was touching, her eyes so sorrowful.

With the system they had, Camellia’s family could just barely get by. Until the day eight-year-old Camellia found out her father had been fired. Desperate for another job, he applied for work at every other factory, but without any recommendation from his previous boss, it was hopeless. He slowly became more and more bitter and angry at the awful situation, finally deciding that if he couldn’t work, then his daughter would. The factory owner hired Camellia, now nine years old, at her mother’s pleading. 

When Camellia was eleven years old, she took a sheet of paper from the stack in her classroom. She folded it neatly into quarters and shoved it in her pocket. A pencil then joined the paper. The following morning, after her mother left for work, Camellia did not go to school. She started walking, hid behind a house and watched as her father ambled down the street to visit one of their neighbors, something he had been planning for a week. Camellia darted into her house, unfolded the paper and wrote in a loopy handwriting she hadn’t used before:

I’m leaving the city. I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t look for me.

Goodbye.

Your daughter

Camellia located an old knapsack her father didn’t use anymore, then surveyed the pantry. She quickly loaded food into the bag, careful to leave enough to last her parents at least until her mother received her paycheck in a few days. Two full water bottles also went into the knapsack.

Next to the city was a long stretch of wilderness. Camellia knew that other cities lay beyond it. Hopefully her provisions would be enough to last her until then.

Camellia walked over to the door. Her hand stilled on the knob as she looked at her house. She was leaving so much behind. 

She saw herself many years younger, hugging her parents.

And she saw herself minutes before that on the cool floor, shivering.

And she knew she was making the right decision.

The knob turned, and Camellia stepped out of her house for the last time.

Minutes later, she saw the wilderness laid out in front of her. She had trouble believing that anything could be so vast. She could only focus on pieces: the forest on one side, the river snaking out of it and down the endless meadows next to it, the hills that blocked her view of whatever was beyond the things she could see.

She chose the forest, knowing that if her parents came to look for her, they wouldn’t see her. She enjoyed the crunch of her feet on leaves and twigs as she walked through the near darkness, the only light coming from tiny gaps between the tops of trees. When she emerged on the other side, back into the daylight, she was near the hills. She started towards them–and heard the soft sound of footsteps. Camellia froze as they grew louder. 

An unfamiliar person stepped out from behind a hill. It was a kid about her age, with short blond hair, green glasses, and gray eyes she had never seen before. 

“Who are you?” Camellia asked warily. “Why are you here?”

“I should ask you the same question,” the kid replied.

“Fine, ask me after.” 

“Okay. I’m Briar, they/them pronouns, and I’m from a city over there.” The kid pointed to the far west of the hills. “Good enough for you? Now who are you, and why are you here?”

“You didn’t really answer the second question,” she snapped, already irritated with Briar.

They glared at her.

She relented. “I’m from a city way back there.” She turned and pointed back where she had come.

“You didn’t really answer the first question. Or the second, actually.” 

“I hate you.” Camellia marched past Briar and found herself in a huge grassy area with occasional hills. She wandered around and scaled one hill, looking down at the green, which was slowly turning to a more rocky landscape. 

“Huh.” Briar came up beside her. “See that cave?”

If Briar hadn’t pointed it out, she would have missed it. It blended in almost perfectly with the scenery around it because of three facts: it was small and surrounded by large, jagged rocks, which were the same color as the cave. Some blocked part of the entrance, but she could just tell an opening existed. 

“I’m going to check it out,” Briar decided.

Camellia’s legs moved of their own accord, following Briar down to the cave, where they tossed the rocks aside. “It’s not big enough to go inside,” they said, squinting and leaning forward.

“Briar, has it occurred to you that this could be the home of some animal that’ll attack you?”

Briar shrugged and stuck their head into the cave. They must have said something, but their words were muffled. All Camellia could tell was that there was awe in their tone. Probably not an animal that was attacking them, then.

Briar ducked back out of the cave. “Look.”

Camellia dropped to her knees and peered through the entrance. Oh, wow.

Dead: 4(Moon Wolf, Hawkstar, Darkvine, Azrael)

Alive: 6(Sempreverde, Riddle_wren, Indigo, Sam, Miyetka, Zealatom)

Day 5 Part 5

The ceiling of and sides of the cave were covered in…what was that? Camellia had no idea. All she knew was that it was a gorgeous shade of turquoise and glittered as if it was made of a precious stone, but it was unlike any she had ever heard of. It was rough and firm to the touch, and as she ran her hand over it, she thought that it felt and looked like many, many tiny crystals stuck together. It was impossible, however, to pick out where one ended and another began. 

But that wasn’t all.

In the cave were three stones, each a little bigger than Camellia’s palm. They were all partly gray, with thin beige lines running across the surface. The rest of them, though, were rich shades of gleaming purple and deep red. Camellia reached out and took two of the stones, and at her touch, a powerful sensation surged through her body. She felt as if she had just eaten a full meal. She could run for miles without stopping. 

Camellia narrowed her eyes. She could almost hear a voice whispering in her ear. The cave seemed alive, humming with energy. 

Suddenly it seemed as though the whispers had multiplied. They converged around her. Camellia didn’t move, unease taking hold of her. Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the voices died. The entire cave went eerily silent. Camellia strained, but couldn’t hear a sound. 

  Her heart thudded against her ribs. She pulled her head out of the cave, the stones still in her arms.

“I’ll get the other one, and we can look at them,” Briar suggested. 

“Uh…maybe we should look at them over there?” Camellia stood and pointed back towards the hills.

They shrugged. “Okay.”

Camellia stood her ground as Briar grabbed the other stone, but she felt an urge to get away from the cave. There was something odd about it.

Camellia made her way to a flat area with Briar. “Here, give me that one.” 

“Why?” They scowled.

“I don’t know, I just want to look at all of them for a second.”

“I don’t see why that would make any difference–”

“Briar, please.”

With a sigh, they handed the stone over. As soon as it joined the other two, searing heat shot across both of Camellia’s hands.

She yelped.

All three stones fell to the grass.

And what happened was instantaneous.

The stones seemed to spew mist, which rose rapidly and hung in the air, forming a veil that obscured the three objects on the ground, though Camellia could see the hills far behind them. She rushed forward. The mist was moving, slowly crawling away from her, showing her the stones. 

She gasped, hearing a similar noise from Briar. The stones were lit with almost blinding purple-red light, and beams of the exact same hue stretched away from them, centered on something hidden by the mist. 

She stared as the rays focused on different areas, brushing paint across a huge canvas, except the paint wasn’t visible. “Should we try to stop it?” she asked Briar. 

“I was thinking we should stay until it’s done, and then if it’s something dangerous, we can run for our lives.”

“Briar, there’s so much wrong with that plan–”

“Do you want to see what it’s doing or not?”

“I do.”

Camellia didn’t have to wait long before the beams slowly retreated. She saw that the stones were absorbing the light closest to them, dragging the rest of it back. It was mesmerizing to watch parts of rays shimmer, then dissipate. Each time it happened, the stone’s glow grew brighter, until Camellia squeezed her eyes shut, turning away. 

She waited, then risked opening her eyes. The rays were gone. The luminosity of the stones had vanished. She glanced at the mist, which had cleared completely. 

In its place stood an expansive mansion. Pale green bricks were topped by a purple gable roof, which matched the shade of the building’s arched windows. Turrets adorned each end of the manor. Crimson double doors set in the exact middle of the dwelling that must have been huge but appeared tiny by comparison invited Camellia to take a look at the interior.  

Her jaw had dropped in an almost comical way at the extravagance. For a girl who had grown up in a poor family, this kind of wealth was unthinkable. She glanced at Briar, whose eyes were still closed, and said, “It’s okay, you can look.”

Briar’s gaze first went to the stones before it landed on the imposing structure. “Wh-wh-what?!” they sputtered. “How–”

“The stones must have created it somehow.” Camellia picked up two again and carefully inspected them. 

“I think they made it for us.” Briar turned the stone in their hand thoughtfully. “I think we’re supposed to go inside. And live here.”

Camellia wrinkled her nose at the thought of living with Briar, and they looked similarly wary. But all that space…

As the two of them walked up to the mansion, Camellia noticed the plants at its exterior. A vine of purple jasmine caught her eye. She paused beside it, inhaling deeply. 

The flowers smelled of new beginnings.

She was no longer the pink camellia stuck in the flower bed, suffocating. She was the purple jasmine, growing wild and free on the vine. 

So when Briar told her, “I didn’t hear your name,” the girl was ready. 

“I’m Jasmine.”

Dead: 4(Moon Wolf, Hawkstar, Darkvine, Azrael)

Alive: 6(Zealatom, Miyetka, Indigo, Riddle_wren, Sam, Sempreverde)

This part and the one before it were definitely my favorites to write :D 

Day 5 Part 6

By the time Jasmine’s last words left her lips, her head was bowed. She cupped it in her hands silently. 

“Are you okay?” Miyetka asked.

Jasmine placed her hands in her lap and looked up at the guests. “Yes. It’s just that the first part of my story…well, talking about it kind of made me relive it, in a way. And that name…” She shook her head. 

“Briar?” Sempreverde glanced at them. “Why did you leave your city?”

“Certain people, including my parents, didn’t support trans and nonbinary people.” Briar said it quickly, their voice sharp. “I’d rather not share the details.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said. The other guests nodded in agreement. 

“Thanks. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Foosball,” Indigo suggested. “Sam and Zealatom haven’t played yet.”

Sam and Zealatom looked at each other. Their eyes narrowed as if they were in a cartoon. Both guests burst out laughing and led the way back to the rec room.

The game was extremely close from the first points to the last, but in the end, Zealatom was victorious. The hosts congratulated him as enthusiastically as the guests, but a little while later, Jasmine and Briar slunk a few feet away from the others, who were sharing stories. Sempreverde and Sam were the only ones who noticed this. They knew they shouldn’t eavesdrop, but couldn’t help themselves. Nodding at each other, they each took a discreet step back and caught the words “you said too much.”

The hosts rejoined the guests after a few minutes, smiling. They pounced on a lull in the conversation, saying, “We’d like you to stay in groups of at least two from now on, just so you’ll all stay safe.”

“Does that include at night?” Miyetka frowned. 

“Yes. There are six of you, so each of you will have a new roommate. One of the guests in each of the pairs will move into the other’s room. Both who you’ll be with and which of your rooms will be abandoned will be up to you,” Briar explained.

The guests squinted at Jasmine and Briar, knowing why they were adding more rules. Their hosts were afraid. 

“Sam, do you want to be roommates?” Sempreverde smiled hopefully at her friend.

“Yeah, sure!” they answered, grinning back. 

Miyetka glanced nervously at Zealatom, Indigo, and Wren. “Indigo, do you want to be my roommate?”
“Okay!” Indigo beamed.

“So that leaves you and me, Wren,” said Zealatom. “Should I move into your room, or…”
“What’s your room like?” Wren asked.

“I can show it to you if you want.”

“Good idea,” Jasmine said. “Actually, why don’t you all look at your roommates’ rooms to help you decide?”
The guests agreed, but all knew that the hosts’ anxiety could mean nothing good. 

Dead: 4(Moon Wolf, Hawkstar, Darkvine, Azrael)

Alive: 6(Miyetka, Indigo, Riddle_wren, Zealatom, Sam, Sempreverde)

Sorry this took so long. Since school started it's been much harder to find time to write. Thanks, Sempreverde :)

Day 5 Part 7

Wren surveyed Zealatom’s room, with its gold rug, white drapes, and bed with green and black pillows and covers. It also had a desk, only it had clearly been used much more than Wren’s. Books, a computer, paper with sketches, both origami paper and completed origami shapes, and a pair of earbuds were strewn haphazardly across it, making the desk stand out in the otherwise neat room. 

“Sorry about that,” Zealatom told Wren, pointing to the desk. “I should probably clean it.” He plucked the earbuds out of the pile and slipped them into a pocket of his green pants.

“It’s okay,” Wren replied. 

“Do you like it? I mean, it’s fine if you don’t. If you like your room better, we can–well, I don’t know if you want me to move in.”

“It’s fine with me. I don’t know if you’d like it, though. It’s very colorful.”

“Oh, I don’t mind color.” Zealatom grinned. “I’ll like it.”

Wren wasn’t sure he would stick to his word, but he did. The two of them headed back to his room to gather his stuff and move it to his new living quarters.

***

“It’s quiet,” Miyetka said. “I like it.”

Indigo smiled. “It’s not too much indigo for you?”

The room was done mostly in shades of indigo, which Indigo loved. The dark color made her feel as if she was in a forest at nighttime, sitting by an easel, smooth brushstrokes gliding across her canvas and creating what was in her mind. She would hear the consistent chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. The earthy, damp smell of petrichor was all around her. 

“No,” Miyetka replied. 

“Do you like your room better?” Indigo glanced around her room. Half-finished paintings sat on easels in front of a stool. She wondered if Miyetka had looked at or liked them.

Miyetka shrugged. “Do you want to see it?”

“Okay.”

Miyetka’s room turned out to be full of instruments: a violin, oboe, flute, clarinet, and piano. There were also quite a lot of books on shelves on her teal-colored walls, and a few lying open on her bed. Another thing Indigo found interesting was the presence of a bow and polearm in the room.

Miyetka followed her gaze. “I’m not the murderer, I promise.”

Well, now that you’ve said that, it sounds suspicious… Indigo thought, then repeated the words aloud.

Miyetka glared at her. “Well, I’m not the murderer. And anyway, the murderer used knives. And scissors. And for Azrael, I guess they didn’t use a weapon.”
“All of those could be hidden in this room.”

“That could be true for everyone.”

“I guess. Which room do you want to use?” 

“Yours, maybe?” Miyetka shrugged.

“Okay.” 

***

“Wow, Sam. You have a lot of plants,” Sempreverde said.

“I like plants,” Sam answered, grinning.

“And edible mushrooms?”

“Yep! Finding them is the more fun part, but it’s not like this room could be like a forest or something,” Sam replied, their voice full of enthusiasm, making a sweeping motion with their arms. 

Sempreverde thought it would actually be cool if their room was a forest, but it was nice how it was, with floating shelves holding potted plants and mushrooms on every wall. A few plants even hung from the ceiling. There weren’t two that looked the same–there were different colors and lots of leaf shapes and sizes–and Sempreverde knew that Sam could identify them all, from the one with huge, skinny leaves that were about three times as long as the pot, to the tiny purple one, which looked like a flower. 

“Do you like it?” Sam asked. “Yours is really nice.” 

Sempreverde did like her room, which was larger than Sam’s, probably so she could have enough space to practice Taekwondo. She’d been putting it to good use and also enjoying the violin, clarinet, and the blankets. The blankets! She’d almost squealed when she first saw them.

“The plants are cool. Staying here would be fun.”
“I guess that’s settled, then!”

***

The murderer smiled at the host’s smart idea that night, listening to the steady breathing of their roommate. But if you really thought that would stop me, you’re deluding yourself. They paused. They had made a mistake. 

The stones were hidden in the mansion, but they couldn’t figure out where. Not on their own, at least. Maybe they could get information out of Jasmine and Briar. 

Because word choice could reveal a lot. And if the hosts gave the murderer what they needed, they could get into their heads.

Dead: 4(Moon Wolf, Hawkstar, Darkvine, Azrael)

Alive: 6(Sempreverde, Miyetka, Sam, Indigo, Zealatom, Riddle_wren)

Day 6 Part 1

The next morning, sitting at the dining table, the murderer gave a fellow guest a frightened look. “Hopefully everything’s going to be okay with the murders,” they whispered. “Do you think the stones are well-hidden?”

“I’m not sure,” they answered, then called to the hosts, “The stones are safe, aren’t they?”

The murderer barely stopped a grin from taking over their face. 

“Of course,” said Jasmine. “I hid them very carefully.”

I hid them very carefully.

“Are you sure?” the murderer pressed.

“I’m sure. I didn’t want them anywhere near me, or to be tempted to use them.”

“So you haven’t used them?”
Jasmine sighed. “On–why would we want to use them? We have everything we need.”

***

If they didn’t want to be tempted to use the stones, then it made sense that there would be multiple steps to get to them. Something elaborate. But how could the murderer begin to figure out what the steps were? 

The clues they had gotten weren’t enough.

The guests ended up exploring, which was quite a stroke of luck for the murderer. They easily guided their friend to the area where Jasmine and Briar talked freely, careful to keep their footsteps light. While the murderer’s friend stared, openmouthed, at the next room, the murderer feigned shock while straining to hear the conversation that they had guessed would happen but now realized wasn’t definite.

“But they are safe, Briar,” came Jasmine’s weary, soft voice. “They have no idea where the Guardian is, or where the stones are.”
“Are you sure about that?” Briar’s voice snapped. “I’m sure they could guess the floor. Isn’t it always the top floor?”

“No, it’s not always the top floor. But they would still need to get into the room, and I doubt they could find it in the book.”

There was a pause.

“Just stop worrying, Briar!”

“I can’t help it! And even if I could, I wouldn’t. You should be worried, too.”

The murderer’s friend had heard the voices, now that they had risen. They glanced at the murderer and gestured silently down the hall. The murderer nodded and followed their friend away from Jasmine’s room.

They could find it in the book.

“Want to go to the library next?” asked the murderer.

“Oh, good idea!”

Once inside, the murderer breathed in the comforting smell of books, then stepped to the nearest shelves and scanned the titles. Obviously, there had to be some trick for identifying the one that must hold a key or some other way of entering the room. A book with a plot relating to the stones, perhaps, or some sort of mark. After sweeping each book with their eyes twice, they moved on to the next shelves. A few minutes must have passed before their gaze landed on part of a book jacket that appeared to have been lifted back at some point.

The murderer’s eyes narrowed. They reached for the book. The jacket flipped up quite easily, revealing a small circle with the number 3 written inside it. The murderer’s heart soared. They shook the book violently, and a slim silver object clattered to the floor. 

The murderer fell to their knees and managed to cover it with an elbow. “I dropped my book,” they said at their friends’ inquiring look. When they smiled and turned away, the murderer snatched the key and stashed it away from prying eyes. 

They had the knife. 

They could deal with the Guardian.

And tomorrow, they would.

Dead: 4(Moon Wolf, Hawkstar, Darkvine, Azrael)

Alive: 6(Sempreverde, Miyetka, Indigo, Sam, Riddle_wren, Zealatom)

Day 7 Part 1

The murderer tiptoed out of their room and up the first flight of steps they encountered, wondering how many there were. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long, as the rest of the mansion would be rising after another few hours. They moved quickly, attempting to find a staircase on each floor they reached. Twice, they were fooled into believing that they had reached the final one, but noticed stairs almost as soon as they gave up. They rolled their eyes and ascended, then impatiently paced the next floor until something caught their eye.

The murderer glanced back at the last door. The symbol was a circle with a 3 inside. 

Is this the last floor? 

The murderer’s heart pounded as they stepped to the door, removed the key from their pocket, and, hands shaking, inserted it into the lock.

They could barely turn it, their palm slick with sweat. 

But it clicked.

And the murderer turned the knob and walked into the room.

At first, it seemed to be unadorned, save for a light blue carpet speckled with silver. An eerie feeling hung in the air, punctuated by…what seemed to be a deep sadness. This room was full of the echoes of suffering, the murderer concluded, although it sounded insane.

But they only had a moment to ponder it, for as soon as the door shut behind the murderer, there was a whooshing sound.

The murderer gasped, their hand flying immediately to their knife. An apparition of a little girl stood on the carpet, her body translucent. She was short, curls falling around her face to stop at her chin. She wore a shirt that was obviously several sizes too small for her, and she held a candle in her hands, also ghostly. The candle…

“Camellia,” said the murderer.

“They called me that,” the girl replied thoughtfully. Her voice was far away, but was also full of the innocence of a child, the urge to run around, to play, and to laugh. “And the Guardian, they said. Is it dawn yet?”
“What do you mean?” asked the murderer. 

“Is it dawn? I’ve been waiting…waiting for a while,” Camellia answered.

“How long?”
“I don’t know. They took me here, and said they would be safe…”

“Who’s they? Did they say anything else?” The murderer kept their face blank.

“Two. They said to keep the candle burning.”

If the murderer could snuff out the candle, would it take them one step closer to the stones? But if the candle was a ghost…

“Can I see the candle?”

“Oh, no,” Camellia replied, drawing back. “I have to keep it.”

The murderer remembered the sadness and Jasmine’s story. “But do you want to see your parents?” They smiled.

Camellia nodded eagerly. “Can you find them for me?”

“If you give me the candle, I can.”

Her face fell. “I wasn’t supposed to…”

“Just for a minute, and I’ll give it right back. I promise.”

Camellia hesitated, then took a few steps forward. As the murderer touched the wisp of the candle, an icy cold reached their hand. The part of the candle in contact with their hand solidified until the murderer was touching a cool surface, which then spread throughout the rest of the image of the candle. The murderer accepted the candle delicately, then inclined their head and blew as hard as they could.

“No!” shrieked Camellia.

The flame stayed for a moment, fighting, then extinguished, smoke weaving through the air.

“Thank you,” the murderer said to Camellia as they reached for the doorknob. “You’ve given me what I needed.”

Camellia wailed as the door closed, and the murderer gritted their teeth as the cries of anguish replayed in their ears, tightening their grip on the candle. 

Dead: 4(Moon Wolf, Hawkstar, Darkvine, Azrael)

Alive: 6(Sempreverde, Indigo, Miyetka, Sam, Zealatom, Riddle_wren)