Page 4 of Heirs of the Cursed

Only a few understood how magic tricks worked, even when it remained a mystery to unravel. She’d noticed that there were those who thought it was easy to tackle illusionism, even dared to try it; yet success always eluded them and brought an amused smirk to her face. After all, she was the best in her domain and that expertise hadn’t come without sacrifice.

Though Darcia used to wield her gift within the shadows, there were some nights, like that very one, when she sensed the audience’s wish to witness an unforgettable spectacle. So she’d chosen a daring attire, accompanied by the mask that contrasted with the characteristic gleam in her eyes.

Darcia was a mixture of illusion and magic, and an enigma that no one could solve.

“Are you ready?” Bassel asked.

She looked up at him and let out a sigh before nodding, running her hands nervously over her black bodysuit. It fit her like a second skin, clinging to her waist and arms, and adorned with intricate gold details that glowed under the torches’ flames. Fringe lined her shoulders and delicate chains hung down her torso in precise loops before revealing her tanned legs. She shook out her long, golden hair behind her shoulders before putting on the mask, the metal pressing against the bridge of her nose, almost cutting off her breath.

Bassel gave her a look of understanding and hugged her.

“It’s time to shine.”

Darcia didn’t stagger as she climbed the steps, nor did she squint at the blazing flames that cast her as the heart of the spectacle. She made her appearance in silence, ignoring the darkness that stretched out in front of her, where dozens of expectant eyes awaited another night filled with magic.

Do it! It’s the only way to keep the circus afloat and the family it has given you alive, she ordered herself.

The thoughts of those around her intoxicated her senses, and her heart raced upon thinking of the innocent minds that she was about to deceive. Failing wasn’t an option, nor was losing control. If Darcia faltered, she risked driving them to madness and ensnaring them in a web of their own memories until their stories faded into darkness.

She could do it.

She had to.

In the center of the circular stage, Darcia held out her hands and waited for the side tent flaps to be opened by other members of the circus, ushering four white tigers onto the stage. Some cried out in horror at such magnificent yet forgotten creatures, others gasped in disbelief. A myriad of foreign thoughts rushed toward her, all concerned with the famous illusionist’s life and her inevitable death at the hands of the beasts.

Darcia was grateful for the mask concealing her emotions and the sensation of victory that already rushed through her veins.

She remained still in place as the tigers advanced. The soft caress of their fur against the delicate fabric of her dress made her heart skip a beat.

Closing her eyes, Darcia summoned her power like she had done countless times before and approached the only non-fiery hoop to perform pirouettes. She spun gracefully through the air, the fabric of her costume catching the flickering torchlight as she twisted. Every turn was fluid, precise, and effortless as though she had wings and would fly away from her cage. The soft rustle of the golden chains across her stomach thundered in her ears, and when the tigers roared in approval, Darcia laughed between her twirls.

Everyone held their breath when the hoops of fire descended to the ground, but the felines were ready.

The first tiger leaped, and the crowd cheered with delight. The second jumped even higher through a hoop on one of thespringboards that had magically appeared, and the third cleared two hoops at once, landing elegantly and making the spectators squirm in their seats.

The sparkle in their eyes made Darcia believe that her illusions weren’t as bad as some people made her think, that magic still served for something good—somethingbetter.

The fourth tiger was the most daring. Darcia remained in the largest ring, hanging upside down, while the tiger wagged its tail, its jaws wide open, preparing for the grand leap. Each spin she executed stole breaths and thrilled the hearts of those captivated by the spectacle.

The devouring flames that flickered around the hoop warmed her skin, threatening to burn her, but Darcia only had eyes for the tiger, which pounded against the ground, running until reaching a nearby trampoline.

It leaped into the air. . .

Not through the hoop, but over it.

Darcia made one final thrust with her body to leap through the flaming hoop in a perfect acrobatic move, falling into the darkness below.

The torches dimmed, embracing the illusionist in the shadows of magic. The audience screamed in fear, in misunderstanding. And only when the questions regarding her disappearance invaded her mind, did she allow the flames to flicker back to life to reveal the truth.

She was still on the stage, alive and well. Yet there were no tigers, no rings of fire . . . Just her, the Mind Breaker.

The audience rose to their feet, filling the circus tent with thunderous applause.

Once again, Darcia Voreia had played with their minds.

And no one had noticed.

“You’ve done an excellent job today, Darcie,” Bassel told her once she changed to her regular clothes. “We’ve raised forty gold vramnias. Forty!”

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