The Ventosa’s slow, mechanical ticks reverberated through the night, each backward motion carrying a weight of inevitability, as if time itself was being unraveled. The townsfolk stood on edge, their breaths held in unison, as though the Ventosa were drawing out not just the seconds, but the very fabric of their lives.
“A baby?” Emily echoed, her voice faint.
Dot nodded, her eyes bright with wonder. “Yes, it’s rare… but it can only mean one thing—a new life is coming into the world. The way it ticks forward for the dead, backward for the living? The Ventosa guides souls—gathers them when they're taken and returns them when it's time for new life."
She paused before continuing, her voice now tinged with a more serious tone. “You see, there’s a list. People who want a baby have to apply and get approved by the elders. Once approved, they’re put on the list, which I keep. The Ventosa’s backward ticks signal that someone is about to receive a child.”
Emily’s curiosity piqued. “Who’s next on the list?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
Dot’s face grew somber. “The next couple on the list were Jacobi and Tarjina,” she said softly, her voice raw with emotion. “But with them both… gone…it was Charna’s turn. But, well, you know…”
Emily swallowed hard. “And after Charna?”
Dot hesitated, glancing nervously at Mallum before finally speaking. “Hettie.”
That sealed it. Mallum’s expression hardened, and he took a step forward. “Hettie,” he boomed, his voice echoing across the town square, “you are under arrest.”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Hettie recoiled in shock. “No!” she cried, her voice shaking with desperation. “I’m innocent! Please, don’t do this. You can’t keep me from my baby. Let me see my child—please!”
But Mallum’s face was stern. “You’ll have to take it up with the elders,” he replied coldly. “This is uncharted territory. And, you’re under arrest for murder.”
Tears streamed down Hettie’s face as Mallum led her away, her protests growing weaker with each step. Emily’s lips parted as if to voice her doubts, but she stopped herself. This wasn’t the time. The town was basking in rare joy, and to cast doubt now felt wrong—yet the gnawing uncertainty refused to quiet in the back of her mind. Was Hettie really guilty? Or had they just been too desperate for a culprit? She couldn’t afford to ignore her instincts, but she also couldn’t bring herself to dampen the fragile peace that had settled over Gravestone Hollow.
“With Hettie under arrest, who’s next on the list?” Emily asked, her voice filled with apprehension.
“It’s… it’s me,” said Crowe, her voice firm.
All eyes turned toward Crowe as the final backward tick echoed through the air. Then, the ground beneath them began to tremble. Emily gasped as the earth split open, revealing a glowing, egg-like vessel rising from the depths.
Crowe approached it slowly, her hand shaking as she reached out to gently tap the vessel. It opened with a soft hiss, revealing a small, delicate monster baby inside. Its wide eyes blinked up at Crowe, who stared in awe at the tiny creature nestled within.
Emily stood frozen, astonished by the scene unfolding before her. It was an amazing moment, filled with awe and wonder, but confusion gnawed at her.
Leaning closer to Dot, Emily whispered, “Shouldn’t monsters receive monster babies?”
Dot looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”
Emily hesitated. “Shouldn’t skeletons get skeleton babies? Monsters get monster babies? And so forth?”
Dot chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Why?” she asked with a gentle smile. “Sometimes it works out that way, sure. A mummy might get a mummy baby, or a skeleton could get a skeleton child. But here, most families are mixed. My mother is a mummy, and so is one of my sisters, but my brother? He’s a monster.”
Emily blinked, her mind spinning as she absorbed this new perspective. Gravestone Hollow was a place where boundaries blurred, where families were made up of all kinds. Perhaps, after all, the town wasn’t as strange as she had once thought—it was just different.
The mood in the town shifted almost instantly after the birth. Crowe's hand shook as she held the tiny creature. Its weight was so light, yet it felt as though she were cradling an entire world. The tension that had gripped the town for so long melted away, replaced by a wave of excitement that rippled through the crowd.
A chorus of congratulations rose up, voices filled with warmth and delight. Even Lake’s coven, despite their ongoing feud with Hettie’s, joined in the celebration. Lake herself, who had been tense and stern throughout most of the gathering, now allowed a small smile to creep across her face. The sight of Crowe holding the newborn seemed to soften something in her, a reminder that life—despite all the dark events—continued in its own mysterious way.
Emily watched in awe as even the most guarded and rivalrous witches let down their walls, offering Crowe heartfelt congratulations. Lake stepped forward, her smile now a bit wider, and embraced Crowe. The two exchanged quiet words, and for a brief moment, it was as if the rivalry between the covens didn’t exist.
Dot, still standing beside Emily, wiped a tear from her eye, her own smile radiant. “It’s a rare and beautiful thing, a new life here. No matter what’s happening, a baby brings us all together,” she said softly, her voice quivering with emotion.
Crowe’s joy was infectious. She gently rocked the baby, who let out a soft coo, its tiny fingers gripping at the air. The crowd watched in admiration, the grim events of the past few days temporarily forgotten in the face of such a miracle.
She beamed, her eyes glowing with pride and love, and then she lifted her head to address the gathered townsfolk.
“I’d like to introduce my baby to everyone,” she said, her voice clear and strong despite the emotion in her throat. “His name is Drabek.”
A soft murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, and a collective "aww" followed as the name was spoken. Drabek. The name seemed to suit the little one perfectly, and soon people began whispering it to each other, the name spreading like a sweet breeze through the gathering.
Emily glanced over at Lake again, and it was clear that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. With Hettie’s arrest, Lake seemed to find a new sense of peace, or perhaps satisfaction. The faint smirk on her face spoke volumes—she believed justice was being served, and Hettie’s downfall was a moment she had long awaited. Whatever dark cloud had hung over her seemed to dissipate in the celebration.
“I’m happy for Crowe,” Lake said, approaching Emily. “She deserves this. And with Hettie out of the picture, we can finally have peace again.”
Emily nodded, though she felt a prickle of doubt creeping into her mind. The arrest had come swiftly, and while the knife was damning evidence, Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that the story wasn’t complete. But she chose not to voice her concerns, not yet.
As the night wore on, the town seemed to relax for the first time in ages.
Emily, however, couldn’t fully shake the unease that lingered in the back of her mind. Something still felt off. Hettie’s arrest, while it made sense on the surface, felt almost too convenient. As she watched the festivities continue, she couldn’t help but wonder if the true danger had yet to reveal itself.
Emily barely had time to process the celebration of Drabek's arrival when the unmistakable sound of another tick echoed through the air. The Ventosa’s hand moved backward once more, its gears groaning with the weight of yet another monumental moment. The entire crowd, still buzzing with excitement, fell silent as all eyes turned toward the clock tower.
Emily’s heart raced as the realization hit her: there was going to be another baby.
"This has never happened before," someone whispered in the crowd. Even the most ancient members of Gravestone Hollow, those who had seen countless cycles of life and death, looked stunned.
"Who’s next on the list?" Ravette asked, her voice cutting through the silence.
Everyone looked around, confusion written on their faces as they tried to remember who was next in line. Emily scanned the faces of the crowd, watching as the same question rippled through them like a wave.
Then, a small, familiar voice broke through the uncertainty.
"It’s me."
Emily turned to see Dot standing beside her, her face a mask of shock and disbelief. Her usually bright and carefree expression had been replaced with something much deeper—an emotion that Emily couldn’t quite place at first. And then, as the realization sank in, Dot’s face softened, and a slow, genuine smile spread across her lips.
"I’m next," Dot repeated, her voice a little steadier now, though Emily could still sense the nerves hidden beneath it. She reached out, grabbing Emily’s hand. "I’m nervous," Dot admitted, her voice barely audible. Her face paled as the words left her mouth, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. She clutched Emily’s arm for support, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "I wasn’t expecting a child so soon."
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Emily squeezed Dot’s hand gently, her own heart swelling with pride for her friend. "You’ll be a wonderful mother, Dot," she reassured her, smiling. "You’ve got so much love to give, and you’re surrounded by a whole town that will help. You’re not alone."
As the Ventosa continued ticking backward, the air filled with anticipation. And then, just like before, the ground trembled lightly beneath their feet, and the earth split open once again. From deep inside, an egg-like vessel rose slowly from the earth, glowing softly under the twin moons.
Dot took a deep breath, her eyes wide with awe and a touch of fear. "I guess it’s time," she whispered.
Emily nodded encouragingly as Dot released her hand and began walking toward the egg. Her steps were slow, careful, as if each one carried the weight of this life-changing moment. The crowd watched in silent reverence as Dot approached the egg, their collective breath held.
Dot’s hand hovered over the egg, the air seemed to warm, charged with an almost electric energy. The vessel’s surface shimmered in the moonlight, faint wisps of steam rising as its shell slowly peeled back. For a moment, all Dot could hear was the erratic pounding of her own heart, drowning out the gasps of the crowd. And then, there it was—a tiny, baby.
But this baby was unlike anything Emily had ever seen. Its round head was shaped like a pumpkin, the bright orange skin gleaming in the moonlight. Vines curled delicately around its tiny arms, and its wide, glowing eyes blinked up at Dot with innocent curiosity.
A pumpkinhead.
Dot gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock, and then the joy took over. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached down to gently lift the tiny pumpkinhead baby from its egg. The baby cooed softly, snuggling into Dot’s arms as if it had known her all along.
Emily watched Dot closely. She could see the emotion behind Dot’s tears—the overwhelming love, the joy, and something bittersweet. Where Crowe had accepted her new child with awe and grace, Dot’s reaction was far more complex—happiness mingling with a deep, bittersweet sorrow. The baby’s tiny pumpkin head was a reminder of a wound that had never fully healed. But as Dot looked down at the new life in her arms, she knew that this little being wasn’t just a reminder of what she had lost, but a promise of what she could still have.
This baby wasn’t Jacobi, but in some inexplicable way, it filled a small part of the void left behind by Dot’s best friend. Pumpkinheads were incredibly rare, and the connection Dot had once shared with Jacobi ran deep. Holding this new life in her arms didn’t erase the pain of losing her friend, but it was as if the universe had given Dot a gift to help heal that part of her heart.
The crowd erupted into cheers, the excitement and surprise of the moment contagious. Even Emily couldn’t help but smile as she watched her friend cradle the baby, her earlier nerves now replaced by a glowing warmth and love.
"You’re going to be an amazing mother, Dot," Emily whispered as she approached her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Dot beamed through her tears. "I can’t believe it," she said, her voice full of wonder as she looked down at the baby. "I wasn’t expecting this, but I think… I think I’m ready."
The crowd gathered around them, offering their congratulations and admiration for the newest addition to the town. For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension that had plagued Gravestone Hollow seemed to lift, replaced by the joy of new life.
As the crowd’s excitement finally began to settle, Dot beamed down at the little pumpkinhead baby cradled in her arms. Her voice, though soft, carried through the gathered townsfolk with clarity and pride.
"Her name is Jacari," she announced, her eyes glistening with a mix of joy and emotion. The name hung in the air for a moment, and Emily couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest. The name was a clear tribute to Jacobi, who had been taken far too soon.
The crowd reacted warmly, applauding Dot’s choice, their voices filled with admiration and love. Emily felt herself smile as she placed a hand on Dot’s arm, a silent gesture of support. Dot turned to Emily, the gratitude in her eyes unmistakable.
"Let’s go home," Dot said, her voice a little shaky, though her smile remained strong.
Emily nodded, and together they made their way back through the streets of Gravestone Hollow, the townsfolk gradually dispersing behind them. As they walked away from the Ventosa, Emily’s mind began to drift back to the reality of the situation—the murders, the arrest of Hettie, and the mystery that still loomed over the town like a shadow.
Dot’s house was quiet when they entered, the warm, familiar scent of her home immediately wrapping around them like a blanket. Dot carefully laid Jacari down in a small crib that she’d hastily prepared.
Emily watched from the doorway, her thoughts a million miles away. She wanted to stay in the lightness of the moment, to bask in the joy that Jacari’s arrival had brought, but the weight of the unsolved murders pressed heavily on her mind. Hettie’s arrest had been sudden, almost too convenient. Was it really her? Could Mallum have made a mistake? And what about the other suspects—the witches, Nox, or even Lake?
As Dot tenderly attended to the baby, humming softly to soothe her, Emily quietly retrieved the notebook Dot had given her days ago. She found a spot at the kitchen table, the soft glow of a lantern illuminating the pages as she flipped through her scribbled notes. Her mind churned with questions, and she knew it was time to put them all together.
Emily grabbed a pencil and began sketching a rough murder board in the notebook, making columns for each of the victims—Jacobi, Tarjina, Charna, and now Bevan and Norae. She listed everything she knew about them, trying to spot connections she might have overlooked.
Jacobi: Strangled, no magical markings. Hettie had motive—old grudges, history with Lake, moving up the baby list—but no solid proof that she was involved.
Tarjina: Drained of blood, possibly vampiric, but not typical for Gravestone Hollow vampires. Klauss had seemed innocent, but someone had tried to frame a vampire for this.
Charna: Poisoned, Raven’s Tears perfume. Someone close to her had to have known she used it—someone with access to her personal life.
Norae: Stabbed, knife found at Hettie’s. The most straightforward case, but was it too easy?
Bevan had been burned alive from the inside. It had to be a spell; dark magic.
She scrawled names beside the victims. Hettie, of course, but also Crowe and Kestrel, all members of the same coven. The odd glance between Nox and Cressedia still stuck in Emily’s mind. She jotted a note about it next to Norae’s name, her pencil tapping lightly on the paper as she tried to figure out what, if anything, it meant.
Emily’s fingers traced the pencil lines, connecting dots that only half-formed in her mind. Was there a larger pattern she hadn’t seen yet? Or were these just random, isolated acts? The list of suspects felt incomplete, the motivations behind the murders still hazy.
Dot’s soft humming in the background was a comfort as Emily leaned back in her chair, staring at the notebook. Her eyes drifted back to Hettie’s name, circled several times, underlined with growing suspicion. Emily wasn’t convinced of her guilt, not entirely, but with the knife found in her home, it was becoming harder to dismiss her as a suspect. Still, something about it felt off, like a piece of the puzzle was missing, but she couldn’t quite grasp what.
"Dot," Emily called softly, pulling her friend from her quiet moment with Jacari. Dot looked up, her eyes tired but still glowing with joy. Dot nodded, coming over to sit at the table, her expression turning serious.
"I keep going back to Hettie," Emily continued, pointing at the notebook. Dot leaned over the table, looking at the makeshift murder board. “What are you making?”
“It’s a murder board,” replied Emily.
Dot’s brow furrowed in confusion as she looked at the rough sketch Emily had made in her notebook. "A… murder board?" she asked, her voice hesitant.
Emily nodded, flipping the notebook around so Dot could see the different columns and names. "Yeah, these are pretty standard where I’m from," she said, her tone matter-of-fact.
Dot’s eyes widened slightly at Emily’s casual remark. She looked up from the page, taken aback. "Standard? How often do murders happen where you’re from?"
Emily hesitated, realizing that she had unintentionally shocked her friend. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Uh… well, in my world, they happen… pretty much every day."
Dot recoiled, her expression a mix of surprise and horror. "Every day?" she echoed, her voice full of disbelief. "That’s… awful!"
Emily nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah, it’s not great," she admitted. "But that’s why we use these boards. It helps us organize the information. All of the clues, suspects, and evidence get put on the board, and we connect them with string—wherever there are the most connections, that’s where we start investigating."
Dot leaned over, examining the notebook more closely now, her initial shock giving way to curiosity. "So, you connect them with string?" she asked, her voice softer now, more intrigued.
"Exactly," Emily replied, feeling a bit more comfortable now that Dot’s reaction had calmed. She began explaining further, pointing at the different names. "Each victim, suspect, and clue is connected. Like here—Jacobi and Hettie had that history, right? But there’s also this weird tension between Nox and Cressedia that I can’t shake off. I connect them with string, see where it leads, and hopefully it’ll show us the bigger picture."
Dot nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "It’s like weaving a spell," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Each thread pulling on another until the whole thing becomes clear."
Emily smiled. "Exactly like that."
Dot’s mind pondered the idea of a murder board. "I can help you with this," she said after a pause, her eyes meeting Emily’s. "I want to make sure we find the truth. For Jacobi. For all of them."
Dot's eyes scanned the rough murder board, her expression tightening. "You're missing a lot of information," she said quietly.
Emily looked up, startled. "What am I missing?"
She took a deep breath, hesitating as she weighed her words. "Are you talking about the affair between Nox and Cressedia?"
Dot's voice rose slightly as she responded, "I don’t believe that. Nox would never do such a thing. If he wanted Cressedia, he could’ve had her years ago—she always had a thing for him. They’re just close friends. They’re both married now. I was talking about Bevan. He was Crowe’s partner."
Emily’s heart skipped a beat as the realization hit her. "Wait," she breathed, her mind racing. "Crowe just took Drabek home. She doesn’t know, does she? She doesn’t know Bevan is dead."
Dot’s eyes filled with worry. "No, she doesn’t. Oh no, she just took her baby home… I can’t tell her, not after everything. I have Jacari to take care of." Dot’s gaze locked onto Emily, desperation in her voice. "You need to tell her."
A knot tightened in Emily’s stomach. Crowe had just experienced the joy of a new life, but in a matter of moments, her world would collapse. Would she even be able to hold Drabek the same way, knowing that Bevan—the person she should be sharing this with—was gone? Emily’s heart clenched at the thought of having to tear that joy away from her.
She nodded slowly, knowing there was no other option.
Just as she was about to agree, a loud crash came from outside. Both women froze, their hearts pounding. Emily grabbed Dot’s arm, her voice barely audible. "What was that?"
The house shuddered, and the wind howled. Something—or someone—was coming.