Final Night

Chapter 1: Before

2:00am, 15 Topaz 1969

“Dad!”

The darkness pressed in close. Like a living thing, it wanted to devour her whole.

He came, as she knew he would. Her bedroom door opened, the light clicked on and transformed the abyss into a safe, familiar space. Pink walls. Stuffed unicorns on her chair. Towers of cassettes threatening to topple off the desk.

“Greenie went dark!” Lukie pointed. “And the monsters were coming for me!”

Dad scooped her up in a big hug. His beard scratched her face, and she inhaled his habitual tobacco smell. “Let’s fix this.”

She hovered near while he inspected the glass unicorn nightlight. “Bulb’s gone,” he said. “I’ve got spares.” He held her by the hand and took her down the carpeted corridor to the kitchen, where he rummaged in a bottom drawer, sorting past paper bags, rolls of string, and masking tape. “The important thing is no monsters are left. Remember why?”

“Reladon.” She clutched the sleeve of his plaid pajamas.

“That’s right.” Dad pulled out a lightbulb and slipped off the packaging. Holding her hand, he guided her back to her bedroom. “Once upon a time, there was a terrible age of magic and monsters. Dragons burned cities, zombies dragged people from their houses, and krakens swallowed up entire ships. That was when the Dark Emperor ruled, enslaving the world with his nightmare legions. But then all the brave heroes got together, formed the Alliance of Light, and fought the Dark Emperor at the Battle of Reladon. And who saved everyone?”

He pushed the bedroom door open, and Lukie bit her fingers nervously while he screwed the new bulb inside of Greenie.

“Hawkbow!”

“General Hawkbow,” Dad agreed. “She had an enchanted arrow created by the last wizards of the Crystalspire. Her aim was true, and she shot the Dark Emperor right through his heart. And when she did, one of the moons, Marmaruk, shattered into a ring that encircled the entire world, and the Age of Magic ended.”

Dad snapped his fingers. “No more monsters. All the horrible things—ghosts, faeries, demons, and dragons—were sealed away forever. All the races who stayed in the mortal world—elves, dwarrow, and ogres—lost their powers and everyone became ordinary people. We made friends with each other as there was no need to fight each other since the Dark Emperor was gone.” He snapped his fingers again. “And no more magic. The wizards had to get jobs at the shops and libraries. And, after a while, no one missed their wands and spells, as we invented technology instead. Like your nightlight.”

With a dramatic flourish, he clicked it on, spilling warm, buttery light.

“You saved her!”

“Technology is amazing.” Dad smiled. “In the old days, we’d have to get a wizard in, and he’d cost a fortune. Now, back to bed.” He held up her covers, and Lukie crawled under pink layers of sheets and blankets.

“I want Mama.”

Dad stroked her hair. “Sweetie, remember she’s in the Precursor’s Garden. Waiting. You’ll see her someday, but not yet.” He took a deep breath. “I know it’s bad your mother isn’t here. It’s a big change. Think of how the people must have felt when they lost all the magic. But the world was still there, only different, and full of wonderful new things to discover and explore. One day, when you’re a lot older and have had so many adventures, we’ll be with Mama again. And you’ll have heaps of stories to tell her.”

 She reached out for her bedside table, for the framed photograph of when they’d all been together for their last Winterdark Festival. She clutched it tight to her chest like a promise as Dad kissed her and left the room, the nightlight glowing in the corner.

She was safe. She repeated all the things Dad told her. No magic. No monsters. She’d see Mama again one day. And everything would be all right.

But he had lied.

 

Chapter 2: Awakening

7:53pm, 7 Bloodstone 1983 (?)

She had no idea how she got here.

Sand. A lapping tide. Confused, Lukie struggled to her feet. Water sloshed in her boots, and she was cold all over like she’d been at her after-school job stacking the freezer section at Cubermarket. 

The ocean was dark and heaving, the sky above colored in bands of lavender and gold. Far to the south she glimpsed the shadowy edges of the Pillars of Majesty—limestone formations spearing out of the sea along the coastal King’s Road. A late summer sunset. Later than… when?

You’ll have until dawn… Her memories were jumbled. Running from hungry shadows. Hiding in the darkness. An impassioned conversation. Crawling out and upward through a pipe for a long time.

Which didn’t explain anything. She looked around, then down, and clawed wet sand off her jacket.

Light glinted off Marmaruk, the thin planetary ring that girdled the overhead sky. His sister, Amarun—the surviving moon—rose above him, her face a slender crescent. 

Wait, hadn’t the moon been full earlier? Lukie scratched grit from her hair. She faced the steep cliff. On the top was the old beach house where the party had been.

Oh yeah. She’d been there. She remembered…

Well, nothing clearly. Spook Club. Holding her guitar. The music. A blur of voices and faces. But not how she had gotten to the beach. 

She recalled a dark tunnel. Stairs leading upwards with worn carpet. A voice: You’ll have until dawn…

To do what?

It had to be the same evening. She must have been confused about the moon. Time to get back to the party and find out what was going on.

If this was a sick joke, she’d punch the people responsible. Repeatedly.

Lukie patted herself down.

She was wearing familiar clothes. Amber bangles. Outside Sky t-shirt. Red leather jacket. In one pocket were the keys to her new—okay, newish—car. In the other was a cassette, a home recording of her own composition that had helped her gain admission into Storm City’s Conservatorium of Music. And in the other, a photograph of her family taken when they’d been on their last holiday together at Storm City for Winterdark. Before Mama had passed.

I never brought these with me. The keys, yes. But the cassette and their final family photo had been tucked in her special drawer in her bedroom. They weren’t wet; her jacket had kept them dry. 

Am I dreaming? She poked herself. She felt that. But her skin was nearly frozen. I need to get somewhere warm before I die of hypothermia.

Lukie staggered toward the cliff. 

Something else was wrong. The stairs were in the right position, but now with a wooden railing. Maybe Nathel’s parents had installed it before the party. Wouldn't I have remembered it, though? She hurried upward to the beach house.

And things got strange.

The structure should have been there. All gleaming glass and steel. Drunken people sitting under the porch. The boom of music from inside, the clink of glasses, and the smell of beer. She even expected cruel laughter as she clambered up the steps, wet and thoroughly pissed off, clearly the victim of a practical joke.

Instead, there was just a lonely, weed-infested ruin. Peeling paint covered the stucco walls. The window frames were empty, revealing a scarred concrete slab and an interior dusted with sand.

This wasn’t right. 

She ran past the abandoned place, down the overgrown driveway. If this had been the actual site of the house, her car would have been parked there. But it wasn’t.

Now what? Perhaps she was at the incorrect location. Or she was on a macabre prank TV show.

But the area was too real, too familiar to be elsewhere. And there was no camera in sight.

Every time things went wrong in life, she saw Dad. He sorted out her worst problems, made it all right again. 

So she ran home to Breakwater Bay. 

Lukie had spent her entire life in the small town. It was one of many that dotted the east coast, popular with tourists who came to surf on the golden beaches during summer or to visit the region’s historical mansions during the winter. It should have taken her an hour to hike into town, but it felt like only minutes had passed when she arrived. 

But as Lukie reached the outskirts, a sense of wrongness slammed into her senses like an unhealed wound.

As she remembered things, Endeavor Drive, the central street, ran directly in front of the beach, lined with ocean-facing brown brick cottages and fibro houses. A large wharf speared down the main beach, and around it clustered bars, fast-food restaurants, and bait and tackle shops. 

But as she followed the street, her attention was snagged by a giant shopping mall and bowling alley that hadn’t been there earlier this evening. Strange cars drove past; only a few recognizable models, and all of those were battered and worn. Small high-rise apartment blocks clustered along the beachfront streets rather than the familiar homes. 

She zigzagged back and forth across the road, staring at the street signs. Bream Road. Seaview Plaza. Catch Lane. Surfside Drive—that wasn’t right! Why—

A car crunched into her.

She slammed against the hood and bounced against the blacktop like a ragdoll.

Brakes squealed. A woman screamed from inside the vehicle. 

Lukie sprawled on her back. 

Her left arm was bent wrong. 

Bone was sticking out of it like a snapped twig. 

But it didn’t hurt. Sure, it itched. But there was no pain. And no blood.

Am I on drugs? She clenched her teeth as black, oozing smoke trickled out of the cuts in her skin. Under the shadowy mass, gray tendons knitted together.

So freaky!

Oily black vapor briefly encircled the protruding bone. It faded away, leaving a healed wound and unmarked pallid flesh. What is this dark stuff? It feels almost sentient. It leaked out of me—

“Are you alright?” A huge man loomed over her. “I’m so sorry! We were talking, and I wasn’t watching the road.”

Lukie blinked, staring at the car that had hit her. It was sleek, with red chrome stylings, and like no design she’d ever seen. 

There were four people around her—university-age twenty-somethings dressed strangely in low-rise jeans without flared ends, sparkly lip gloss, and flat, straightened hair. The big man had obvious ogre ancestry. There was a curly-haired human woman and two dwarrow, which was weird because in Lukie’s experience, different hominins rarely mingled with each other.

“I’m checking you for broken bones!” The woman patted Lukie down. “She’s like ice. Get me the picnic blanket.” When she touched Lukie, a smooth brassy dance beat thumped in the air.

“I’m fine!” Lukie got to her feet and pushed the woman away.

The music cut out. And that didn’t make any sense either.

But Lukie was more distracted by her own voice than some weird hidden radio. It had come out slow and raspy, like she had a bad cold. 

Her left foot straightened, and bones clicked into place. She tested it. Needs a bit longer.

“Stay down. You could have a serious injury! We need to call an ambulance.”

“Maybe she knows what she’s doing, Maz.” The big man put his arms around the curly-haired woman. “It might be an elf thing.”

“I’m human,” Lukie insisted, despite feeling the heat rise in her pointed ears as the others stared with disbelief. But her grandmother’s people were insistent: half an elf was not an elf. She desperately tried to clear her throat. “And I’m fine.” She jumped up and down, demonstrating her fitness. “You braked just in time.” Her voice remained husky.

“See, she’s okay.” The ogre wiped the sweat from his face. 

“Are you sure?” One of the dwarrow women put her hands on her hips. “She looks like a zombie to me.”

Lukie’s stomach churned. Zombie? An ice-cold sensation speared through her left leg. She stamped her foot—ready for walking. “Uh, I’m going to a party.”

“The one in the hills?” Maz said. “We’re heading there. We can give you a lift. Love your 80s costume and your spooky contacts. Perfect for Final Night.”

“What’s that?” Lukie asked.

Maz and her ogre friend glanced at each other and then back at Lukie.

“You know,” Maz spoke slowly. “It’s a horror party about those girls who got murdered twenty years ago. It’s the only reason people come to the sticks this time of year. Hey, are you sure you don't want a ride to the hospital?”

Murdered? 

Twenty years?

No, no. There has to be an explanation for this.

“I have to go!” Lukie fled, despite them calling out to her. Something was wrong with her—and the town—and she needed to figure out what it was. She shoved past a group of onlookers, nearly collided with a confused tourist in a baseball cap eating a burger, and sprinted through the neon-lit streets to the first sign of safety: a public restroom that had been there this morning. 

The bathroom was still there. Painted white now, but the same. Five stalls, graffitied doors, dirty cream tiles, stainless steel sink and taps, an empty paper towel dispenser. 

Her blurred reflection stared back at her from smeared glass. 

Red, luminous eyes. Deathly skin.

She looks like a zombie to me.

Lukie clenched the bathroom sink and inhaled deeply to steady herself. And then she realized she hadn’t been breathing at all.