A winters welcome
840 Words
The yacht cut through the waves like a knife, in the seemly dark and endless void of the ocean. Overhead, the moon hung heavy, casting a silver path on the water. The air smelled of salt and pine, sharp and clean, but inside the ship, everything was warm and polished.
Elias Carter stood at the railing, hands in his pockets, watching the water churn beneath them. The other guests were inside, sipping champagne, pretending this was all normal—but it wasn’t. And he regretted ever coming to see things for himself because he knew he was stuck, there was no going back.
“Not a fan of the festivities?” A voice called out.
Elias turned to see Celeste beside him, holding a half-finished glass of wine.
“I like Christmas just fine,” he said.
She arched a brow. “That so? Because you’ve got the same expression as a man being led to the electric chair.”
Elias exhaled through his nose. “I guess we all might be." He answered. "What do you think about all this?”
Celeste took a slow sip, her gaze flicking toward the massive Christmas tree inside the cabin, its ornaments catching the golden light of the chandelier. “I think rich people have too much time on their hands.”
Elias gave a short laugh. It was the first thing that had made sense all night.
Before she could say anything else, a soft chime rang through the air.
Another man in a black suit and white gloves stepped into view. “We’ll be arriving shortly. Mr. Voss requests that all guests prepare to disembark.”
Celeste sighed, swirling the last of her wine. “Here we go. Time to meet the man behind the curtain.”
***
Voss Island
As the yacht pulled into the dock, twinkling Christmas lights lined the wooden walkway, casting a soft glow over the untouched snow. Beyond the trees, a massive stone estate loomed, dark and elegant, its windows glowing warmly against the winter night.
A few of the guests murmured in awe.
Elias just stared.
It was like someone had tried to combine a gothic mansion with a holiday postcard—beautiful but eerie, too perfect to be real.
A team of staff in navy-blue uniforms waited at the dock, standing in perfect formation. At the front of them stood a man in a long black coat, his presence commanding, and his face expressionless
Elias didn’t need to ask who he was.
The man took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back. “Welcome,” he said smoothly. “I am Dorian Voss. Thank you all for accepting my invitation.”
His voice was calm, polite. But his eyes? His eyes were measuring them. Calculating.
Voss gave a slow smile. “This week is about indulgence. Celebration. The finest food, the best company, and, of course, the ultimate prize. But more than that…” He gestured toward the towering estate. “This is a place of stories. And I look forward to hearing yours.”
Elias felt the energy shift from relaxation to awareness. A few guests straightened, suddenly aware they were being sized up.
Celeste, on the other hand, looked amused. “I love a man who talks in riddles,” she whispered.
Elias didn’t respond.
Voss clapped his hands once. “Come. Your rooms are waiting, and the festivities begin in the morning.”
***
Inside the Estate
The moment Elias stepped through the front doors, he felt it.
Something was off.
The estate was stunning—a twenty-foot Christmas tree in the grand hall, garlands wrapped around the staircase, a massive fireplace crackling with warmth. The scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air, and soft classical music played in the background.
It was the perfect holiday scene, and everything seemed normal. But for a detective, it was only normal after a thorough investigation, and since he hadn't done any kind of investigation yet, he couldn't trust the place.
Too perfect.
Celeste let out a low whistle. “Well, they definitely didn’t hold back.”
A young woman in a navy uniform stopped in front of a door. “This is your suite, Mr. Carter.”
Elias took the key, offering a brief nod. Across the hall, Celeste unlocked her own door. She glanced at him before stepping inside.
“Try not to get murdered before breakfast, Carter.”
He huffed a laugh. “Same to you.”
She grinned. “I never get murdered before breakfast.”
Then she was gone.
Elias shut his door and locked it immediately.
The suite was massive, with deep green and gold decor, a crackling fireplace, and yet another damn Christmas tree twinkling near the window. Snow fell softly outside, coating the trees in white.
It should have been peaceful.
But it wasn’t.
Elias sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples.
Something wasn’t right about this place.
And he had a feeling he’d find out long before Christmas morning.
- Writer
