NEW HERE? START HERE > Day One: The Invitation
Day Two: The Gala Begins
The evening air is crisp as Charles, Sarah and Angelica approach the grand entrance of the Victorian mansion, Sarah’s two children lag behind. This is it, the site of the mysterious Grand Christmas Gala. Snow crunches under their boots, and a gentle breeze sends swirls of frost through the air. The mansion before them is a spectacle of gears and grandeur—its brass towers gleaming in the light of gas lamps, its windows aglow with flickering candlelight. The grand ballroom lay just beyond those towering doors, but Charles’ thoughts were elsewhere.
“There it is again,” Charles glances over his shoulder for the third time in as many minutes.
Angelica follows his gaze, her expression unreadable. “The drone?” her tone light, though her eyes gleam with curiosity.
Charles nods. “It’s been tailing us since we left the house.” His hand twitches toward his waistcoat pocket, where he keeps a small, handcrafted revolver. He’s not sure why the drone makes him so uneasy, but something about its stealthy movements sets his nerves on edge. It darts between trees, keeping just out of sight but close enough to make its presence known. Every time he turns, the metallic flutter of its small wings are there, barely noticeable but always present.
Angelica smirks. “Maybe it’s just security, father. Some of these events have all sorts of fancy surveillance.”
“Security doesn’t hide,” Charles replies, his eyes scanning the shadows again. “It’s recording us.”
Angelica feels Ann’s amusement within her subconscious. “You’re father is just suspicious by nature. This gala is supposed to be a celebration.” Angelica smiles at her father, “mother wants you to relax.”
But Charles finds little comfort in her words. He is excited about tonight, looking at his watch he thinks, Robert and Sabrina should be here any minute. He missed his oldest friend, they had both been so occupied with work and life, that they hadn’t seen each other in months. The thought of catching up brings a warmth to Charles’ chest. Still, the drone and its strange behavior gnaws at him, keeping his joy in check.
They step through the grand doors, where a clockwork butler bows and ushers them into the ballroom. The mansion is a wonder of Victorian elegance merged with steampunk design. Brass chandeliers hang from high, vaulted ceilings, casting soft, golden light across the room. Gears turn silently behind the walls, powering hidden mechanisms that keep the mansion alive with motion. Guests in lavish attire—silks, brocades, and mechanical accessories—float across the marble floor, their laughter mingling with the lilting music played by an automaton orchestra.
Charles cast another glance over his shoulder, scanning the room for Robert and Sabrina. The drone has disappeared, but he can’t shake the feeling that it was lurking in the shadows somewhere, waiting for the right moment to reappear.
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” Angelica smiles, reading her father’s thoughts. “Let’s get a drink while we wait.”
As they crossed the ballroom, Charles can’t help but notice the figure of Lord Aurelius standing near the grand fireplace. The lord is a tall, imposing figure, his high-collared coat adorned with intricate brass detailing and his eyes cold as silver. Beside him stands Lady Grissel, regal and aloof, her gown woven with metallic thread that glimmers in the candlelight. The two are engaged in a quiet conversation, their expressions unreadable.
Angelica catches Charles’ glance. “That’s Lord Aurelius and Lady Grissel. Powerhouses in the political sphere,” she whispers. “They say Aurelius is trying to sway several planets to his side, but no one knows for sure. He’s always lurking at the edges of these events.”
As if sensing their gaze, Lord Aurelius turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting Angelica’s for the briefest moment. Turning back to Lady Grissel, he murmurs something that causes the lady to smirk.
“They’re definitely up to something,” Angelica mutters, her sharp gaze following them as they slip into the crowd. “I think I’ll keep an ear on them tonight.”
Charles chuckles. “Spying, are we?”
Angelica smirks. “It’s not spying if they’re trying to be overheard.”
Before Charles can reply, the grand doors open again, and in walks Lyra and Clarkson. Lyra’s steps are hesitant, her eyes scanning the room with wary suspicion. Clarkson, ever the confident one, nudges her gently as they moved further into the crowd.
Lyra spots Charles and Angelica and waves, though there is tension in her eyes. “Who do you think will show up here?” she asks quietly when they join them. “There are more powerful figures in this room than I expected.”
Angelica nods. “We’ve already seen Aurelius and Grissel. And I suspect there’s more to this gala than holiday cheer.”
Lyra’s expression hardens. “Then we’d best keep our guard up.”
As they talk, another figure enters the ballroom—Peter, looking even more on edge than usual. His eyes dart nervously around the room, as though he expects something—or someone—to crash through the doors at any moment. He moves quickly, almost bumping into Charles before stopping.
“Peter!” Charles says, smiling warmly. “Good to see you made it.”
Peter forces a smile, though it barely concealed his nerves. “Yes, I’m here, though I wish I could say I feel at ease.”
Charles raises his eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
Peter glances around, lowering his voice. “The poltergeists. They’ve been… active lately. I’m worried they might—” he pauses, his eyes flickering toward the grand windows as if something might burst in from the mist outside—”show up.”
Charles frowns. “Here? How could they follow you?”
Peter shakes his head, not meeting his eyes. “In their world, they don’t need an invitation. They go where they please.”
Before Charles can respond, the sound of laughter reached them, and his heart lifts. He turns just in time to see Robert and Sabrina enter the ballroom. Robert is grinning, his arm around Sabrina, who looks radiant in her deep red gown.
“Robert!” Charles calls, making his way over.
Robert’s face lights up when he sees Charles. “It’s been too long!” he booms, pulling Charles into a tight embrace.
Charles laughs, patting his friend on the back. “Too long, indeed! I’ve missed you.”
Sabrina smiles warmly, hugging Angelica as they exchange pleasantries. The warmth of their reunion makes Charles forget the lurking unease—at least for a moment.
As they talk and laugh, however, Charles’ sister, Sarah, stands nearby, her expression tense. Her hand repeatedly drifts to her ear, a nervous habit she’s developed ever since her traumatic experience. She hasn’t said much since they arrived, and every so often, she glances around the room as though expecting something—or someone—to leap out from the shadows.
Charles noticed her discomfort and moves to her side. “Sarah, are you alright?”
Sarah jumps slightly, her hand now brushing her nose as if to conceal her anxiety. “I… I’m fine. Just… feeling like someone’s watching me.”
Charles frowns, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re safe. No one’s watching you.”
But as he speaks, he can’t help but feel his own paranoia returning. The drone that had followed them here flashes in his mind. Was it still out there, recording? Watching?
The evening wares on, the sounds of the gala continuing in joyful harmony, but beneath the surface, a dark tension begins to stir. The gala has only just begun, but already, secrets linger in the shadows.
And Charles can’t shake the feeling that they are being watched.
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