One summer day, before she hosted a vacation for eleven guests and after countless years of exile, when the sky was a burning shade of cerulean, Storm peered out one of the many windows in the lighthouse to find someone standing on the beach. They were standing next to a small banged-up looking sailboat, hair tied back and soaking wet. The person seemed to sense Storm’s eyes on them and they looked up. Their gazes met.

That was the beginning. 

Once upon a time, there was a magic girl named Storm living alone on her island, kept company only by memories and thoughts.

Until someone came along and reminded her why she loved being alive in the first place.

~~~

Storm sat alone in the common room, hands clenching and unclenching. She had snapped a small peach pastry into being and was eating it in an attempt to distract herself. It was early morning, and so far she was the only one awake.

Well, not anymore. She heard the steady echo of footsteps descending the stairs, and the murderer casually strolled into the common room. 

“Hello!” they greeted cheerily. “Good morning!”

“No, it’s not,” Storm hissed, standing up. “Where’s the necklace?”

“Whatever do you mean?” they asked innocently. 

Storm’s gray eyes narrowed and she stalked closer to the murderer. “Drop the act. There’s no one else who knew about it.”

“You can’t prove anything.” The murderer sat down on one of the couches, pulling a pillow onto their lap. “It could have been a vengeful ghost. There’s plenty of those around.”

“You-” Storm’s eyes darkened. “How dare you go behind my back?”

“Yeah? What’re you going to do, huh? Magic me into giving it back?” They laughed. “You can barely manage to keep all the ghosts in one place and keep me killing at the same time. There’s nothing you can do.” Their expression turned a little more sinister. “I know your plan, why you invited us all here in the first place. I have the necklace now and I’m never letting you finish that spell.”

Storm’s mouth snapped open to retort, but the sound of footsteps filled the air again and both the host and murderer stopped talking as the second guest came down to the common room, oblivious to what was happening before. Storm managed to plaster on a smile and conjure up a platter of bagels for breakfast. The murderer’s smile, however, was real.

A few minutes later the third and last guest plodded tiredly down and the four of them sat in a circle, chatting and laughing, because it was either that or fear and crying and they would much rather spend their last day like this. Of course, only two of the four were aware that this was the last day at all. 

After breakfast, Pangolin, Echo, and Sterling decided to go outside and play with Jerbo; the arctic fox was feeling a little bit neglected and cooped up in the past few days. Nevermore, who had been without Reuby since day one, had been busying himself with chasing seagulls around the sky and trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to catch fish with them.

Sterling and Pangolin took turns throwing a piece of driftwood across the island and having Jerbo fetch it, bounding over the rocks with ease. Every time that he brought the wood back to them, Sterling fed him a piece of beef jerky. 

Echo was engaged in an intense game of tug-of-war with Jerbo when it started to drizzle outside and they retreated back into the lighthouse. Jerbo went back to his nest of sheets and blankets to take a nap, and the three guests decided to set up a game of Uno, one of the few games they had yet to play. 

After ten minutes of playing, Pangolin had once again reclaimed her position as the queen of cards, winning three back to back games. 

When she won the third game, Echo threw her cards down in exasperation, saying, “That’s it, we’re never going to win against you, Pangolin. Let’s play something else.”

“Yeah, sure,” Pangolin said, gathering all the cards into a deck. 

“Hey,” Sterling said. “One more thing before we do that.”

The other two looked at fae quizzically. 

Sterling calmly asked, “Which one of you is the murderer?”

~~~

Dead: 8 (Reuby Moonnight, Darkvine, Hawkstar, Writing_in_the_dark, Amarillis, Periwinkle, Tenebrous, Wildsong)

Alive: 3 (Pangolin, Echo, Sterling)

~~~

Next part is the murderer reveal!! 

I would like to offer an official apology to Storm/Silver Crystal.

When posting Storm's avatar, they said, "with the anti-ski lodge sentiment I'm worrying it is to dark" or something like that. I was the one who started the anti-ski lodge sentiment. It led to many interesting discussions about horror/mystery on the CB, but also many hurt feelings.

I would like to apologize for that.

And, if I may say so, I have actually been *gasp* READING the ski lodge and it actually is tamer than some other ones on CB. Great job so far Silver!

And, of course, sorry for the anti-ski lodge sentiment and thread. 

Oh myy...This is so good. I literally will be so sad when this ends. Your writing is incredible, and the plot line is so gooooddd.....

i cant wait to see who the murderer issss 

Okay, it's totally Echo (technically me, but that's all in the past now). Silver Crystal specifically said the echo of footsteps just as the murderer walked into where Storm was. I don't know if I'm reading into this, ahaha, but that's my theory!

Okay, it's totally Echo (technically me, but that's all in the past now). Silver Crystal specifically said the echo of footsteps just as the murderer walked into where Storm was. I don't know if I'm reading into this, ahaha, but that's my theory!

“I think,” Pangolin said smoothly. “What you really mean is which one of you two is the murderer?” 

“I’m innocent,” Echo interjected. “I promise you. Cross my heart and hope to die.” Probably not the best choice of words, but it got the message across. 

“Promises don’t exactly mean anything,” Sterling muttered, arms crossed in front of their chest. “Whoever the murderer is has been lying the entire time.”

Echo narrowed her eyes at Sterling. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not me,” fae bit out.

“Exactly what the murderer would say,” Pangolin noted, suspicion dripping from every word.

“Stop it! It’s not me!” fae repeated. 

“What if,” Echo put in. “What if whoever it is has no memory of the murders and genuinely thinks that they’re innocent.” Perhaps this logic seems overly idealistic to you, a way that none of them were betraying each other. It’s amazing how these people still, even after everything that’s happened, want to believe in each other. That says something about the nature of humans, I think. 

Pangolin considered it for a few seconds. “Well,” they said. “I suppose that could be possible with magic. Peri thought that magic might have had something to do with the murders.”

“Maybe,” Sterling said quietly, voice betraying the fact that fae didn’t particularly buy it. “But there’s no way of telling, is there?”

“True,” Echo agreed. “So, what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Pangolin said. “Play a game?”

“Sure.” Sterling stood up. “How do you feel about Sorry?”

They say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and, finally, acceptance. For the first time since Reuby’s death, all of the surviving guests were firmly settled in the acceptance stage. Some got there sooner than others (Writing), some never made it past denial (Amarillis), some spent most of their time bargaining (Periwinkle). Either way, these three remaining guests, they had all come to peace with what was going to happen next. Now they were just waiting for it to happen. 

The three of them began a game of Sorry on the table in the center of the room. Pangolin was playing with the red pieces, Echo with the green, and Sterling with the blue. Pangolin wasn’t quite as good with board games as she was at cards, but she was rivaling Echo for first place all the same. Sterling was in the lead for a good while until two of their pieces got bumped back to the start bubble, setting them back considerably. 

By all accounts, it was a normal game of Sorry. Except with heavy silence and the way that the three guests' eyes flicked to and fro from each other’s faces, like this friendly facade could end at any moment. They didn’t really want to spend time together, but being alone anywhere on this island was a much worse alternative. Being alone meant being vulnerable. 

“Sorry,” Echo said, taking one of Pangolin’s red pieces back to start and replacing it with a green one. Pangolin didn’t say anything. Sterling’s blue eyes flashed from one person to another and back again.

All the way on the top floor, Storm stopped flipping through a familiar heavy leather book and looked up. The air was suddenly heavy with tension, and through her bond with the island, she could sense something was about to happen. Something significant. She sprang to her feet and began to climb down the ladder.  

“Your turn,” Echo said to Sterling. Fae put down a move three card, marching faer little blue piece forward one square at a time. It was Pangolin’s turn (she got a ‘go back four’ card), and then Echo’s turn again. 

Except that Echo never even got to reach for the card that maybe would have sealed her victory, because in a flash of silvery light a knife cut through the air and buried itself in her chest. She looked down, a little surprised, eyebrows drawing together.

“Sorry,” Pangolin said, arm extended from the throw. “But this was getting exhausting.”

~~~

Dead: 8 (Reuby Moonnight, Darkvine, Hawkstar, Writing_in_the_dark, Amarillis, Periwinkle, Tenebrous, Wildsong)

Alive: 3 (Pangolin, Echo (?), Sterling)

~~~

Ahh here we are! Very exciting :))

Also I gave the link to this lodge to my irl best friend, who is (presumably) reading along. Hi irl best friend!!