At the edge of the square, the circus tent looms, its deep crimson and navy stripes towering, its peaks catching the warm light of enchanted lanterns floating above like fireflies. A pair of jugglers at the entrance toss flaming pins between them, each throw impossibly precise. The fire crackles like laughter in the snow, drawing gasps from the crowd.

  “Whoa…” Risa breathes. “That’s huge.”

  Finn glances at the tent’s size, easily large enough to hold a few hundred people.

  The ticket seller checks their slips and waves them through with a toothy grin. “Enjoy the show. Second row from the front, good seats, that lot!”

  Inside, it’s warm. Dozens of low-set lamps hang from the ceiling, illuminating the circular stage in the centre. Benches form a ring around it, tiered and padded. The scent of sawdust, oil, and faint perfume lingers in the air.

  Children chatter excitedly. Couples huddle together. A man with a curled moustache walks up and down the aisle selling caramel-dipped apples on enchanted trays that hover behind him.

  Risa wants one.

  Finn buys two.

  “Thanks again,” she mumbles between bites, grinning. Nyx is already getting used to saying thanks, the stickiness smeared across his expressionless face creating a paradoxical contrast.

  The lights dim.

  A hush spreads through the tent like mist, and a spotlight blooms at the centre stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages!” booms a voice from nowhere, then a woman materialises in a puff of violet smoke. She wears a coat of shimmering feathers, her face framed by a hat wider than her shoulders, plumed with a green-and-gold pheasant tail.

  “Welcome to The Midnight Carousel!” she announces, spinning dramatically, arms raised. “Where dreams perform, nightmares flee, and the impossible… dances!”

  The tent erupts in applause.

  Risa claps loudly, eyes wide. Nyx claps too, mimicking Risa.

  The first performance is a contortionist, a boy barely older than Nyx, twisting his body into near-impossible shapes. Then comes a trio of illusionists who turn scarves into birds, and birds into glass butterflies that float away before dissolving into glittering dust.

  Midway through, a magician steps onto the stage in a long coat of dark red, its silver stitching catching the light like stars. He beckons a volunteer from the crowd. Risa's hand shoots up.

  She’s picked.

  “Come on up, little miss!” the magician calls with a grin.

  She bounds up the steps, hair bouncing, clearly thrilled.

  “Now, tell me your name.”

  “Risa!”

  “A fine name for a star,” the magician proclaims. “Step inside this cabinet for me.”

  Finn leans forward, his eyes flicking between the magician and the tall wooden box being wheeled onto the stage. Beside him, Nyx stares ahead, clutching Cocoa.

  With a flourish, the magician opens the cabinet. It’s empty.

  Risa steps inside, grinning. She gives a wave just before the door shuts.

  The magician taps his wand once, twice, three times.

  Poof.

  The door swings open.

  Empty.

  A beat of silence.

  Then, from behind the audience, “Ta-da!”

  Risa’s voice rings out as she’s lifted from a hidden platform, arms wide like she’s just flown. The audience roars in delight.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The magician returns her safely, bowing with exaggerated flair as Risa curtsies like a noblewoman.

  When she returns to her seat, flushed with excitement, Finn hands her a napkin.

  “You’ve got caramel on your face.”

  “Worth it,” she says, wiping enthusiastically.

  The final act is a tamer, not of lions or wolves, but of magical beasts conjured from smoke and mirrors. A dragon made of stars twirls through the air, trailing silver sparks. A deer with antlers of fire prances gracefully around the ring. A massive cat with glowing eyes perches on the edge of the platform, surveying the crowd before vanishing in a burst of petals.

  Even Nyx leans forward, stares intently.

  When the curtain falls, the applause is thunderous.

  Outside, the snow has stopped, and the stars are clear overhead.

  They stroll back toward the inn in satisfaction, the warm hum of the night still lingering in the air. Risa chatters animatedly about her stage moment, mimicking the magician’s booming voice with theatrical flair, her arms flailing for added effect, her steps bounce with delight.

  Finn and Nyx walk at her side, their attention fixed on every word. Suddenly, Nyx halts mid-step.

  He glances back over his shoulder, eyes drawn back to the circus.

  Finn halts a few paces ahead, and Risa bumps into his side before realising Nyx has fallen behind.

  “What is it?” Finn asks.

  Nyx doesn’t immediately answer. He stares toward the circus grounds.

  “I sense someone… like me.”

  The words hang in the air, heavier than they should be.

  Finn and Risa exchange a silent glance. Are there more like Nyx?

  “Can you take us to them?” Finn says gently.

  Nyx nods once and pivots back toward the circus without a word. They follow him past the now-empty performance tent, where lanterns swing gently in the breeze, casting shadows like dancing phantoms on the canvas walls. The sounds of celebration have faded; only the faint clatter of cleaning crews and murmurs from the performers’ quarters remain.

  As they near the performers’ resting area, Finn casts a masking spell over the three of them, just enough to dull their presence.

  They slip past a row of wagons and painted trailers until Nyx stops in front of a smaller, shadowy tent. Unlike the rest, it lacks decoration or flair. From within comes the low, unsettling growl of a lion, followed by the snarl of wolves and the scratch of claws against metal. Cages rattle. Fangs scrape.

  “Let me check first,” Finn murmurs, drawing the flap aside just enough to peer in.

  He scans the dim interior. A few lamps swing lazily from the beams, casting flickering light over barred cages. Lean lions lounge in the corners, tails swishing lazily. Lanky wolves sleep soundly, unconcerned by their surroundings.

  “No one in sight,” he whispers. “Let’s go.”

  Nyx steps inside first, slipping past the growling creatures without hesitation. Risa and Finn follow, sticking close. The air is thick with the smell of blood and damp fur. But the beasts don’t pay attention to them. They barely lift their heads.

  Nyx walks deeper, all the way to the back of the tent, and stops in front of the final cage: the one in the corner, covered in dark cloth.

  They pull the cloth down, revealing a boy sitting inside.

  Small. Fragile. Human—at first glance.

  His clothes are little more than rags. His skin is streaked with old and new wounds, crisscrossed with lash marks, some scabbed over, some fresh and raw. Yet his eyes… his eyes burn. Sharp. Aware. Unafraid.

  He doesn’t flinch when they approach. Doesn’t beg. Doesn’t speak.

  He watches.

  Finn’s gaze lingers on the boy, and then he sees it from the light glinting off something along the boy’s ribs.

  Scales. Small and silver-green, catching the lamp glow.

  The boy notices him staring and lifts his chin, fierce and defiant.

  “What is he doing in here with the beasts? And they even cast a curbing spell on him,” Finn mutters under his breath.

  Risa steps up beside him, voice low. “Nyx… is this who you sensed?”

  Nyx nods. “Part of him is like me. The rest… human.”

  At that, the boy's eyes narrow, suspicion flashing across his face. “Do you know what I am?”

  Before Nyx can reply, the sharp crunch of approaching footsteps snaps the silence.

  Finn tenses. “We need to go. Now.”

  There’s nowhere to hide here. Nowhere could three people hide unnoticed.

  They slip out through the flap just in time, vanishing into the shadows beside the tent as a moustachioed man with a bulging gut and a finely dressed woman—recognisable from the opening ceremony—enter the tent behind them.

  From their position outside, they see nothing. The tent remains quiet, unmoving.

  “They have a masking stone too,” Finn murmurs, frustration edging his voice.

  “I can still hear,” Nyx says softly.

  Risa blinks. “Even through their masking barrier? From this far?”

  “It’s Nyx,” Finn says simply.

  Nyx closes his eyes for a moment, listening.

  “They said… ‘You should know when to give in. We bought you for a hefty sum. You’ll pay us back one way or another.’” His voice lowers. “‘Good thing we had a full house tonight, or you wouldn’t have it this easy.’”

  He stops.

  “What else?” Risa presses, breath caught.

  “They’re leaving,” Nyx says.

  Finn wastes no time, pulling them out of the scene. They melt into the shadows, slipping through deserted lanes and vanishing from the circus before a single soul can spot them.

  When they finally arrive at the inn, stars are strewn like silver confetti across the deep velvet sky.

  Curiosity flickers. Concern lingers. And somewhere in the quiet, a new question stirs, waiting for its shape to be revealed.