Strange Happenings Epilogue: Winter Solstice

December 21st, New York City

A hooded figure flipped the switches, kicking to life the overhead lighting of the abandoned conference hall. Given the events of the Harvest Moon, the building had been closed to the public pending investigations. That was a joke; there were over three dozen known locations of unusual activity that night in New York. Investigations were spread thin and no one knew where to begin.

They knew so little. They were not asking the right questions.

The original owner of the convention hall was tired of eating losses and jumped at an interested party’s offer. The new ownership left most of the abandoned building alone, but in the main hall, they made important additions.

The hooded figure strode to his seat—one of six arranged at equidistant points surrounding the highlight of the otherwise empty space. The fountain was ornate, with the well in the center drilled down through the floor, into the earth below. He noted the intricate runework carved into the sides of the fountain and encircling the floor around it. Everything was in place.

“It’s almost time, correct?”

The older man tracked the new hooded figure appearing over his shoulder. He expected the younger woman to make a surprise appearance. Of course, ever since the Harvest Moon, the youngest of their Supremes could not resist blinking into rooms, leaving everyone to question if she had been there the entire time. “You’re too flashy. We must still be cautious not to earn more attention than we’ve already claimed.”

The woman took her seat, waving a dismissive hand. “Yoo're overly cautioos, elder. it willnae matter efter tonecht anyway, reit?”

The elder sighed, stifling a grin due to her infectious bravado. “Nothing is set in stone. Influxes have calmed since that initial flood, and we have only been able to claim and keep open a handful of wells. There is the chance the Solstice does not offer enough of an influx and we have to be patient.”

“That one knows nothing of patience,” a deeper, Greek-accented voice spoke. The tall man had the sense of decorum to enter through the front door, though the faint trail of smoke from his hands did not go unnoticed.

“Ran intae trooble it thaur?”

His bellowing laugh reverberated through the empty room. “No trouble. It is not trouble to step on a pest, correct?”

So much for decorum. “You’re both too brash. Our time is close at hand. The chaos of the Harvest Moon hid our actions, but it is key we pick only the perfect moments to act.”

“My apologies, Elder,” half-hearted though they were. “I promise to keep my hands clean until the ritual. I assume one righteous extermination did not damn us, right?”

The oldest Supreme moved to his feet, prepared to respond with a diatribe on needless risks when he spotted the shimmer in the corner of his eye. In unison, all three sets of eyes turned to the fountain, watching as the etchings of the silver fountain glowed a dim white. They peered into the fountain, watching as a crystal blue-white substance started rising from the hole driven into the ground at the center of the structure. Not liquid, not gas, yet it swirled ethereally. In hours, the substance would fill the fountain to the brim.

Unable to continue with his reprimand, the bearded Mystic allowed himself to give into the brimming excitement in his soul. “I suppose the night will be ours, troublemaking aside.” From beneath his hood, his eyes gave off an unnatural glint. “The others shall join us soon. I hope you’re ready to imbibe and become gods of a new age.”