Emily had just settled down for breakfast. She led a fairly solitary life, which suited her perfectly. Her family—mother, father, and sister—were cordial but not particularly close, and she preferred it that way. An avid reader and movie enthusiast, Emily thrived in her role as a private investigator. Her parents deemed it dangerous, but she relished the thrill of solving crimes and the independence that came with working for herself. While much of her work involved catching unfaithful spouses, the occasional missing person case truly captivated her. Despite the risks, Emily loved her job; it offered her the freedom to travel and the means to support herself comfortably.
It was a quiet morning, and she was set to leave for a trip to the beach that afternoon. As she settled into her chair and raised her fork, a swirling, shimmering light enveloped her. At first, she thought it was a dream—a vivid, surreal one. She felt herself floating, her feet lifting off the ground as if she were weightless. Suspended in the air, it was like being wrapped in a cocoon of soft, glowing mist.
Suddenly, she found herself standing in a dimly lit chamber that resembled a haunted house. Shadows flickered on the walls, and the air was laced with the musty scent of old wood and decay. In front of her was a long, antique table adorned with cobwebs and candles casting an eerie glow. Seated at the table were three figures: one appeared human, like a vampire woman from a horror film, with pale skin and piercing eyes; another was a skeletal figure in a green gown, a female version of the Grim Reaper; and the third was a monstrous creature with fiery hair and a head that resembled a dinosaur skull, its bony ridges and deep-set eye sockets creating a haunting visage.
Across from them were two more figures. One had pretty, blue hair and a painted face that shimmered in the dim light. The other was dressed nicely but appeared to be some kind of human hybrid, her long dark horns catching the dim light. With them was a short mummy in a cute house dress, an oddly domestic touch in the macabre setting.
Emily was sure she'd fallen into a nightmare. Involuntarily, she screamed, her voice echoing through the chamber like a banshee's wail. The mummy and her companions screamed in return, a cacophony of terror filling the room. Then, the crystal ball on the table lit up with a dazzling, spectral light, and a brilliant beam charged toward Emily, enveloping her in a swirl of colors. The ball then went dark again. It had cast a spell on the newcomer, allowing her to speak and understand the language of the people before her. Not every word had an exact equivalent, but they would at least be able to communicate clearly, using the closest available terms.
In an instant, she felt calm. It was as if the ball had imparted wisdom into her consciousness, soothing her confusion. The fear subsided, replaced by an eerie understanding of the magic at work around her. She was less afraid, even in such a bizarre and ghostly realm.
Dot, believing herself to be the least threatening with her small stature, stepped forward. She tapped her head onto the newcomer's head, a customary greeting in their land. The feeling of being headbutted by a mummy shocked the newly arrived visitor, sending chills down her spine. She recoiled. "What was that for?" she yelled out, partly angry and partly annoyed, as she rubbed her forehead.
Dot looked at the others, her eyes wide and confused, unsure of what had gone wrong. Hettie then decided to try. She approached the being, her footsteps soft against the creaky floorboards. She spoke in a soothing voice, her breath warm in the cool, musty air. "Don't be afraid," she said, her tone gentle and reassuring. "You're safe here."
The words surprised Emily. She hadn't expected to understand the beings before her. She looked up, her heart pounding in her chest. Hettie's eyes, a deep, earnest blue, held a sincerity that gave Emily a sense of calm. She pulled herself together, taking deep breaths, and looked around the room. The musty air mixed with the faint odor of candle wax and decay, too vivid to be a dream. The dim candlelight cast eerie shapes on the cobweb-draped walls, and the soft creaking of the wooden floorboards echoed in the silence.
She then remembered the light and the sensation of floating through the air, a surreal yet unmistakable experience. Her private investigator instincts kicked in, sharpening her focus. She steadied her voice, trying to maintain a calm tone. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice firm but laced with curiosity, the words carrying the weight of the unknown.
Hettie took the opportunity to explain the situation, her voice steady but filled with urgency. "You are in Gravestone Hollow," she began, her words echoing softly in the dimly lit chamber. The name itself carried a weight that made Emily shiver slightly. The room seemed to darken further as Hettie relayed the morning's events—the chilling discovery of a murder, the shock that rippled through their close-knit community, and the frantic gathering of the elders.
"The ball," Hettie continued, gesturing towards the now-dark crystal ball that still seemed to hum with residual energy. "It was the elders who used its power, searching through time and space for the one person who could solve the mystery of who killed our beloved Jacobi." Her eyes glistened with the faint glow of candlelight, reflecting the sorrow and hope of her words.
Emily's fear subsided. Though this place was a far cry from her serene white home, where everything had its place and everything was in its place, there was a sincerity to the beings before her. On the surface, they looked intimidating—dark hair, pale skin, scales, fur, wings, fangs, claws, horns—but she sensed they were no threat to her. Her instincts were never wrong.
As the reality of her situation sank in, she felt a small flutter of pride. A magical ball had searched all of space and time and chosen her? It gave her a boost of confidence and stroked her ego. More than that, there was a flicker of intrigue. A place called Gravestone Hollow, filled with mummies and creatures out of a Halloween nightmare? How could she not at least take a look?
"When I solve the murder, you will send me home," she replied, wanting to ensure she understood the terms of their arrangement correctly.
Solaire, her eyes glowing softly under the flickering candlelight, answered, "When the murder has been solved, you will return to your world." Her words resonated in the musty air, carrying a promise. The magic in the ball had brought her here for one purpose, and when she was no longer needed, she would no longer exist in their world.
Emily took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a sense of purpose solidify within her. "Alright," she said, her voice firm. "Let's get started."
Lake, tired of letting Hettie do all the talking, pushed past her and took charge. "I'm Lake," she declared, her voice commanding. "I am the leader of the town's most powerful witch coven." She shot a disdainful glance at Hettie before turning back with a sly smile. "Allow me to lead the way to town." Emily sensed the tension crackling in the air. Dot shifted uneasily, and she could see Hettie’s face darkening with barely concealed anger. Her investigative instincts kicked in as she took note of each of them—Lake's authoritative demeanor, Dot's discomfort, and Hettie's quiet seething. Despite the palpable friction, Emily remained composed and nodded in acceptance, letting Lake take the lead.
As they descended the stairs, Emily observed their surroundings with keen interest. The stairwell was an enchanting mix of eerie and beautiful, distinct from anything she’d seen in her world. The walls were constructed from stone that had a peculiar glassy texture, each surface smooth and slightly translucent, glowing softly with an inner light. The bricks emitted a warm, ghostly luminescence, casting colorful patterns of light and shadow across the damp, cool air. The subtle hum of the glowing stones created a soothing, almost melodic resonance that filled the space with a continuous, hushed rhythm.
The air was cool and carried the faint scent of damp earth and something more arcane, a blend of old magic and mystery. Despite its otherworldliness, there were elements Emily found familiar. The clothing worn by the townsfolk had a Victorian flair, characterized by dark colors and rich, velvety fabrics that draped elegantly. Lace accents and intricate details adorned their garments, and the silhouettes were both flattering and timeless. Emily found herself admiring the intricate designs and coveting a gown as elegant as Hettie’s.
As they exited the tower, a sharp, resonant tick echoed through the stairwell, halting the group abruptly. The sound was unsettling, reverberating through the air with a rhythmic, ominous cadence. Dot’s face paled, and she exclaimed, “Oh no!”
Emily’s confusion was palpable as she turned to Dot. “What is it?”
“Another death,” Lake’s voice quivered, her usual composure shattered.
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Before Emily could respond, a piercing scream echoed through the darkness, sending a chill into her bones and further heightening the already palpable sense of unease. The sound sliced through the air like a blade, leaving an unsettling echo that lingered long after it had faded.
They broke into a run, propelled by the urgency of the scream, their footsteps echoing through the moonlit night. Emily suddenly realized she was wearing her slippers. She struggled to keep pace, her house shoes slipping on the cool, damp earth, which made each hurried step feel precarious. The air grew denser with each stride. The distant scream had set a frenzied rhythm in their hearts, and Emily felt her own pulse quicken with a mix of fear and determination.
By the time she reached the scene, the group had already gathered around a prone figure sprawled on the cobblestone street. Emily pushed forward, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts, to get a clearer view. The figure, a female, had delicate, soft features, but her skin was covered in what looked like iridescent scales akin to those on a snake or maybe a fish, shimmering faintly under the dim, eerie light. From her head, two curling horns, reminiscent of a ram’s, jutted out in a graceful, yet menacing curve.
Emily’s eyes were drawn to a distinct mark on the figure’s neck. “Is that a bite wound?” she asked, her voice tight with both curiosity and dread. She peered closer, the faint, coppery scent of blood mixing with the cool, damp air. The marks were unmistakable—two punctures, clean and precise, set in the pale, scaled flesh.
“A vampire?” The words slipped from her lips almost unconsciously, her mind racing to piece together the grim scene before her.
An audible gasp escaped from the crowd as Emily looked up, suddenly aware of how many had gathered. The throng was a macabre spectacle, a living tableau that seemed straight out of a Halloween movie. She saw skeletons with hollow, glowing eyes, mummies wrapped in tattered, ancient bandages, and beasts with gnarled claws and twisted horns. Dragon-like creatures with scales that shimmered in the low light mingled with beings covered in fur, their eyes gleaming with an unsettling intelligence.
Despite their monstrous appearances, there was a human quality to their expressions and movements, lending an eerie, surreal sense to the scene. The air buzzed with murmured whispers and shuffling feet, the scent of decay rising in the cool, damp night.
Emily’s pale skin, short hair, and the soft, loose fabric of her pajamas starkly contrasted with the gothic grandeur of the crowd. She felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over her, realizing she must look like an anomaly among the fantastical figures surrounding her.
Just then, Mallum’s rugged voice cut through the murmurs. “This is a crime scene!” he bellowed, his tone authoritative and commanding. The crowd parted, taking a few steps back to give him space.
As he knelt beside the body, Emily seized the opportunity to introduce herself. She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice against the cacophony of sounds around her. “I’m Emily,” she began, her voice firm but carrying a hint of uncertainty.
Mallum’s gaze flicked toward her, a brief, sidelong glance that was more dismissive than acknowledging. His focus remained intently on the body before him, his large hands examining the scene with grim determination. Emily, feeling the weight of his disregard, raised her voice slightly to ensure she was heard over the murmurs of the crowd.
“I was summoned here,” she said, her tone more assertive now, “to help.”
Mallum rose to his full height, a towering presence at seven feet tall. The very air seemed to tense around him, and Emily felt a flicker of fear, but she fought to maintain her composure. She continued, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her, “I noticed a bite wound on the neck. There are only two puncture wounds. I was thinking it may have been a vampire.”
Mallum’s stern demeanor abruptly transformed into a hearty, uproarious laugh that reverberated through the night air. Emily stood there, confused and out of place, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. She turned to Dot, seeking an explanation.
“What’s so funny?” Emily asked, her voice tinged with perplexity.
Dot’s lips curved into a sympathetic smile as she explained, “There are no vampires in town. They’re forbidden.” She paused, her gaze drifting to the edges of the crowd. “Well, except one. But he lives on the outskirts, near the border. His name is Klauss, but he wouldn’t hurt a single soul, much less kill anyone.”
Emily’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. This world was more complex than she had imagined, with rules and secrets that she had yet to uncover. She turned back to Dot. “Where will I be staying?” she asked. “Also, I need clothing and personal items.”
Dot’s expression softened with understanding. Emily’s sudden arrival had clearly been a surprise to everyone, but Dot reassured her with a nod. “We’ll get you everything you need,” she said. “Don’t worry. And you can stay with me.”
As Emily looked around at the strange, vibrant crowd and the eerie beauty of the town, she knew that adapting to this new realm would be a challenge.
Something suddenly caught her eye. It was a small, sage-colored leaf caught in a nearby bush, standing out amidst the dark, reddish leaves like a beacon. "What's that?" she asked as she walked toward it, her curiosity piqued by its unexpected presence.
Lake and Hettie recognized the leaf right away and exchanged knowing looks before answering in unison, "It's Cressbane."
The witches exchanged annoyed glances as if silently debating whether to share more. Finally, Lake sighed and raised her voice, a hint of impatience edging her tone. "It's used in potions. Almost every witch grows it in her garden. It could have come from anywhere."
Emily nodded, her fingers brushing lightly against the textured surface of the leaf as she turned it over in her hand. Just then, Mallum's deep voice interrupted her thoughts. He held up a tuft of gray fur between his clawed fingers, the strands illuminated eerily in the moonlight. "Look what we have here," he said, his eyes gleaming with intrigue.
Dot quickly explained to Emily, "The victim is named Tarjina. Until recently, she was seeing a monster named Zin. He has gray fur."
Emily frowned, processing the information. "Does he have a tie to the first victim?" she asked, glancing between Dot and Mallum.
"It's complicated," Dot started, her voice carrying a note of discomfort as if treading on delicate ground. "The first victim was our beloved mayor, Jacobi. She was also dating Zin,” she paused, “And also dating Tarjina. They were a throuple, for lack of a better term. Jacobi and Tarjina decided they wanted to be together and broke it off with Zin."
Emily listened intently. That sounded like motive to her. The pieces of this tangled web of relationships was beginning to form a clearer picture in her mind. She mentally sized up the situation, weighing her options before announcing her plans. "I need to talk to Klauss, and I also need to speak with Zin," she declared, determination clear in her voice.
Dot shook her head, her expression firm. "You can't," she began, her voice steady but apologetic. "It's the first of the month."
Confusion once again crossed Emily's face. "The first of the month?" she questioned, her brow furrowed in puzzlement.
"It's a holiday," Dot explained patiently. "The first of every month, we take off and celebrate."
Emily's frustration was palpable. "But there was a murder. There were two murders, actually. We have to investigate now. Obviously, the murderer didn't take the first off."
"I'm sorry," Dot apologized, genuine regret in her eyes. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow."
Emily sighed, the disappointment and exasperation clear on her face as she glanced around at the gathered witches.
Seeing her frustration, Hettie spoke up with a warm smile. "Come celebrate with us," she suggested. "We're having a Haunted History Walk tonight."
Lake stepped forward, pushing past Hettie, her eyes bright with excitement. "I can show you some of the most intriguing spots in town," she offered. "It's not what you planned, but it might give you some perspective."
Emily hesitated for a moment, considering their invitation. The idea of joining the celebration was tempting, a chance to observe the community and perhaps learn something new, even if it wasn't directly related to the case. Finally, she nodded, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "Alright," she agreed, her curiosity winning out. "I'll join the Haunted History Walk."
"What time is sunrise?" she questioned, glancing at the sky.
"What's a sunrise?" Dot asked, tilting her head in confusion.
"You don't have a sun?" Emily responded, surprise evident in her voice.
"We have two moons," Lake answered, pointing upwards. "There is a big one, which we call Runay," she said, gesturing to the sky, "and there is a smaller one. We call her Nestra."
She went on to explain, “The larger moon, Runay, is revered as the goddess of wisdom and protection, believed to watch over the land with her luminous glow, guiding us with her eternal light. The smaller moon, Nestra, is seen as the goddess of mystery and change, her cycles symbolizing the ever-shifting nature of magic and fate, inspiring awe and reverence among those who dwell beneath her.”
"Two moons and no sun," Emily repeated, shaking her head slightly. "Got it." She looked around. "So, this is as bright as it gets?"
Her comment prompted a laugh from the crowd. "This is pretty bright," Dot responded with a giggle, her eyes twinkling with amusement. In a land without a sun, the moonlight naturally seemed bright.
It was a different world indeed, similar to her own but different in so many ways. Emily looked at the gathered crowd, the body lying still on the ground, the full moon, the dark foliage, and realized that she had quite an uphill battle ahead of her. Some power in the universe thought she was cut out for this challenge, and so she took a deep breath and steadied herself.
A sudden rustle in the bushes nearby drew everyone's attention. The leaves parted, and a shadowy figure emerged, stepping into the moonlight. The figure paused, their face obscured by the darkness, but Emily could feel their gaze fixed on her. A chill ran down her spine as she waited to see who this mysterious being might be.