Page 109 of Chaos Carnival

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and ghouls, welcome to Cirque de Sanguine!”

I felt the ripple of fear-tinged excitement course through the audience. Every gasp, every quickened heartbeat strengthened our defenses.

“Prepare yourselves for a journey into the darkest corners of your imagination, where fear takes center stage and nightmares come to life!”

His eyes flickered briefly to where I stood hidden, a private smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Here you will be tickled by carnival—or carnal—delights, which have all been thoroughly vetted by a team of relentlesslypsychotic demons, to ensure that your experience here is the most horrifying that it can be!”

I suppressed a laugh at that. Lilith would be rolling her eyes backstage at being referred to as 'relentlessly psychotic.'

“Brace yourself for a spectacle that will feed your nightmares with rocket fuel and leave you questioning the very fabric of reality! That is what you wanted, correct?”

The audience's response was immediate—a mixture of nervous laughter and genuine fear. Perfect.

Maverick swept his arm toward the darkened side entrance. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for The Bone Collector, a man who speaks to the dead through their remains, and crafts monsters from decay!”

Cross shuffled into the ring, his tattered coat trailing wisps of graveyard mist. The ancient cart he pushed creaked ominously, its cargo of bleached bones casting unearthly shadows under the spotlights. I smiled, remembering how the enchantments had taken days to perfect, but the results were worth every moment.

As Cross began his performance, carefully selecting and arranging bones in mid-air, the alchemy hummed with dark energy, responding to his expert manipulation. This was where his true artistry showed—not in the magic itself, but in how he shaped it.

When the beast lunged at the crowd, their terror spiked deliciously. Cross bowed with flourish, and at his signal, the bone creature made its final attack. It dissolved into a cascade of individual bones just before reaching the front row, leaving the audience gasping in relief and exhilarated fear.

We all drank deeply of their emotions, strengthening our protections with each shocked breath and racing heart.

I closed my eyes, savoring every drop and felt the others doing the same. Even Lilith's ancient hunger stirred, pleased with the feast we'd created.

Maverick strode back into the spotlight, his coat rippling with darkness. “Ladies and gentlemen, your terror is... exquisite.” His voice carried just the right hint of wickedness, making several audience members shiver. “But we're far from finished. Allow me to present our aerial artists, the Sisters of Shadow!”

I watched through half-lidded eyes as the Sisters emerged, their forms flickering between solid and illusion.

This was what we'd built together—this beautiful, devilish family of monsters and misfits.

Maverick's pride and satisfaction flowed through our mate bond, mixing with my own contentment. He caught my eye from the ring, sending a private pulse of affection.

I leaned into the curtain, drinking in the atmosphere. Cross stood nearby, still buzzing from his performance. Addie had slipped beside me, her dress casting prismatic wisps of darkness. Together, we watched our family weave their dark magic, safe in the knowledge that we'd found our perfect place in the spaces between light and dark.

From my fortune teller's alcove, I watched our finale unfold with perfect, terrible grace.

Addie took center stage, her Void Dancer costume rippling with dimensional tears. Above, Bex manipulated streams of fire that danced between the Sisters of Shadow's aerial silks. The flames never quite touched them, creating an illusion of demons dancing in Hell's own circus. Cross's bone constructs provided a macabre framework, forming archways and platforms that seemed to defy gravity.

Stone and Lux moved in perfect synchronization at opposite ends of the ring, their crystalline armor and shadow-wings creating an impressive interplay of light and dark. Between them, Zara's fae glamour added a transcendent shimmer to everything it touched.

At the center of it all stood Maverick, resplendent in his perfectly tailored suit. His voice carried through the tent as he directed the controlled chaos, each gesture drawing the eye exactly where he wanted it.

I moved from my alcove right on cue, my dress swishing with each step. The audience's fear spiked as I approached random members, whispering truths that only they could hear.

This was our masterpiece.

A performance that blended real magic with theatrical flair, genuine corruption with carefully crafted illusion. Every movement choreographed to build the perfect crescendo of fear and wonder, leaving our audience questioning what was real.

I slipped away from the finale's aftermath, finding Oscar's crystal skull glowing faintly in my private tent.

“Quite the spectacle you've created, my dear,” his disembodied voice drawled. “I must say, the Victorian penny dreadfuls had nothing on your particular brand of theatrical horror.”

I settled into my chair, absently rolling the edges of my skirt. “You're just jealous you can't join the performance.”

“Please.” His surface flickered with amusement. “I would never debase myself with such melodrama. Though I admit, watching that businessman in the third row nearly soil himself during Cross's act was rather entertaining.”

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