Chapter 2: A Gala Like No Other

Holly’s pulse raced as the lights flickered back on, the dim glow revealing the chaos that had unfolded in the brief seconds of darkness. Guests were murmuring, some frantically searching the room with their eyes, others visibly shaken by the sudden disappearance of Victor Noel. Holly stood frozen, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.

Once so full of laughter and conversation, the grand ballroom was now cold and ominous. Dimly glowing majestic chandeliers overhead cast long, distorted shadows across the walls. Perfect a moment ago, the room felt like a prison.

A thick silence hung in the air as guests exchanged puzzled glances. Nobody said a word, not even the staff, who were quietly hovering by the walls. Holly clutched the invitation in her hand, unease creeping up her spine. She had just seen Victor Noel in the flesh for the first time, and now he was gone—without leaving a single trace.

The first to break the silence was Nick Hart. He had been standing near the bar when the lights went out, and now, with a quick, anxious glance around, he moved toward the center of the room.

"Well, this is certainly a twist," Nick said, his voice laced with amusement, though there was a sharp edge to it. He looked around, his dark eyes scanning the room as if searching for something more than just answers. "Anyone else find this a little. dramatic?"

She glanced over at Nick, studying the way he stood. His casual attitude did not fit the tension of the room or seem to have anything to do with the panic rising in her chest. There was something about him that seemed off, something about the distance in his eyes that made her wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.

"Maybe it's part of the show," Holly said, her voice a little steadier than she felt. She wasn't sure why she said it. Part of her wanted to believe it was some kind of theatrical stunt, something to entertain the guests. But deep down, she knew better. This wasn't normal.

Before Nick could respond, a voice echoed from across the room. "Victor wouldn't do this. Something's wrong."

She was an antiques dealer and her name was Clara Frost. Her arms were tightly crossed across the front of her as she appeared to study everything in her general surroundings. Scanning eyes kept flicking everywhere, and pressed lips didn't give a smiling chance to these.

"Know Victor, huh?" Holly took another step toward her.

Clara did not respond immediately, her eyes narrowing as she took a step forward, as if to try to understand the situation for herself. "I've heard of him," she said finally, her voice low. "Everyone has. But no, I've never met him in person. I didn't think he'd just vanish like this, though. This is. unsettling.

Do you think it's part of the game?" Nick asked, still calm, though his eyes darted around the room. "You said it yourself, Clara—Victor likes theatrics."

Clara shook her head slowly, a faint hint of doubt crossing her features. "No, this doesn't feel like a game. If it was, I'd have heard rumors by now. There's more to this than what we're seeing.

It made her skin run chilled as Clara's words settled into place. There was something about the way she spoke, a note of knowing not said.

Before Holly could react, the clock above the fireplace boomed, echoing in the room. Its resonance went into her chest; she could feel it on her skin, a prickle there. Twelve chimes. The clock read 12:00.

One of the mansion's employees, dressed in black, stepped out of the shadows. His pace was fast, but it didn't have an ounce of sloppy movement in it. He walked with the box in his hand, the box no larger than a jewelry box, towards the center of the room where guests had started gathering.

"This was left behind," he said, his voice muffled by the murmuring of the crowd.

Holly looked on, perplexed, as the man opened the little box and pulled out a thing that had, she felt, nothing whatever to do with Christmas: an extremely delicate, silver snowflake pendant, intricately worked, so delicate-looking that it almost broke in her fingers. But it was not this object that mattered; it was the note which lay beneath.

The employee handed the note to Holly, who unfolded it with a momentary hesitation. The handwriting was beautiful, almost ornate, and the words were short:

"The first clue lies in the star that never shines.

A shiver ran through Holly at the mysterious message. She looked up, catching the eyes of the others in the room. Each guest appeared lost in thought as they considered the riddle. The air was thick with tension. Someone, she thought, had put this together-and they weren't kidding around.

"We need to figure this out," Clara said, her voice firm now, as if the seriousness of the situation had finally dawned on her. "Victor wouldn't just disappear without a reason."

Nick nodded, still calm. "Agreed. But it seems like we're all in this together now. No one's going anywhere until we figure out what's going on."

Holly looked at the others—Clara, Nick, Mr. Yule, and the few remaining guests—and felt the weight of the moment settle on her shoulders. The room seemed to have become much smaller, the walls closing in on them, and she realized that no matter how surreal it felt, she was in the middle of something far larger than herself.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the room began to thicken. Each of the guests was a stranger to her, and now, as they congregated together following Victor Noel's disappearance, it was clear that they all had their own secret stories. Each had been invited for a reason. Each formed part of a greater puzzle.

Okay," Holly said, finally breaking the silence, her voice steady but tinged with a sense of urgency. "Let's start with what we know. We're supposed to uncover a secret. We've got this pendant—and this riddle. 'The star that never shines.' What does that mean?"

There was a long pause as everyone turned their attention to the riddle. No one seemed to have an immediate answer, but then Nick spoke up.

'The star that never shines' could be a metaphor. Something that looks important but is actually hidden in plain sight." He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe we're looking for something obvious."

Clara nodded slowly. "Could be. But we shouldn't rush into conclusions. The clue might be more complicated than that.

As they went over the clue together, Holly's head was flooded with racing thoughts, trying to put together everything she could remember. But the more she tried, the more she realized that this was only the beginning. There were secrets hidden in that mansion that she could hardly even imagine.

And time was running out.

It was oppressive. As if, silently and surely, each understood that now it was so much more dangerous-a holiday reunion in disguise-by implication. There's that feeling to the cryptic note left; it dangles over their heads like an advancing storm.

"Now, then. If this 'clue is 'the star that never shines,'" Nick theorized as he paced back a bit, "and if there are some related here.in this very mansion itself,

Clara narrowed her eyes, as if she were examining every corner of the room. "Could be a painting, or some kind of symbol hidden in plain sight. Or even a specific person in this room.

She swept her eyes over the room, and an uneasy feeling grew inside her belly. They were all strangers to her, but there was a connection now—the note from the mysterious sender and Victor Noel's disappearance. Was there someone in this room who knew more than they were saying?

Her thoughts ended with that thought because a sharp voice broke in.

“Everyone, gather around,” Mr. Yule called out, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the murmurs of conversation. The elderly historian had been quietly observing the scene since the lights returned, his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor. “We must be wise with our time. This riddle, this ‘star that never shines’—it’s not a random clue. It’s a piece of something larger, something hidden deep within the history of this mansion.”

Holly turned her attention to Mr. Yule. Despite his age, he seemed to hold an air of authority, as if he had encountered similar puzzles before. He was a man of few words, but his presence commanded attention.

“History?” Holly asked, intrigued. “Do you know something about the mansion’s past?”

Mr. Yule's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "This mansion has been in Victor Noel's family for generations. Its walls are lined with secrets. If we are to understand this riddle, we must look at it not just as a clue, but as a part of a much older story."

Holly frowned, feeling the pieces slip further out of place. "What kind of story?

“The kind that involves more than just wealth,” Mr. Yule said, leaning on his cane for support. “Victor Noel’s ancestors were not only known for their fortune, but also for their involvement in something far more… elusive. They were caretakers of an ancient prophecy.”

At that, the room fell silent. Holly’s heart skipped a beat. A prophecy? She had heard whispers of old family secrets, but nothing like this.

Prophecy?" Nick repeated, his voice incredulous. "What kind of prophecy?"

Mr. Yule spun around to face him, his eyes glinting. "A prophecy that spoke of a 'guardian'—someone selected to protect a treasure within the mansion. But that treasure is not merely gold or jewels. It is something much more precious—something that can alter the course of the future.