Page 96 of Chaos Carnival

Each strand connected to someone in our troupe, Stone's silver line of protection, Lux's midnight blue thread of deception, Lilith's crimson strands. They formed a patchwork ofpurpose, each person's role clear in the grand design. Sometimes the strongest defenses come not from magic or might, but from the bonds between us.

The Sisters took flight above, their aerial dance a pestilent poem written in silk and shadow. Maverick's voice rang out, announcing the next act. Through our bond, I felt his fierce joy in performing and his love for our dark carnival family.

The tent canvas thrummed, the current purred louder, eager to be shaped. Maverick sensed the gathering storm, even if he couldn't see what I did. My heart clenched, but I pushed the feeling aside.

There would be time for grief later.

Now was the time for action.

I moved through our circus like a ghost, touching each space with reverence. At the trapeze, wisps of energy still lingered from the Sisters' aerial dance, their grace and might etched into the air.

In the center ring, Maverick's presence saturated every molecule. His commanding voice echoed, carrying the power of his magnetic authority, drawing the crowd to lean forward in their seats.

Cross and Bex had left their mark in the shadowed corners. Their illusions had seeped in everywhere. My fingers danced through the air as I began weaving the disparate strands together. The pattern emerged naturally, guided by instinct and the knowledge burning behind my eyes.

Memories flashed through each thread, gasps of wonder, screams of delighted terror, the electric tension of each death-defying feat. I wove them all together, past and future blending into an endless loop of enchantment.

The pattern grew more complex with each passing moment. Every performance we'd given, every show yet to come, all of it fed in, strengthening the whole. The chords sang, eager tobe transformed, multiplying exponentially as I wove. My hands trembled as I continued, too much pressed against my skull like a vice.

I pushed away Maverick's mounting concern.

“Focus,” I whispered to myself. “Just keep weaving.”

The tendrils spiraled and multiplied, showing me futures, frightening and beautiful, our circus transforming into a fortress of shadows. Death and rebirth, victory and defeat, all across the infinite branches of time.

My body felt distant, insubstantial compared to the vast expanse of possibility. The ritual demanded more, and I gave it, even as my mind threatened to shatter under the strain. Each new thread split my awareness further, until I existed in a thousand places at once, seeing through countless pairs of eyes.

“Hold on,” I commanded myself, though I wasn't sure which version of me had spoken. “Just a little longer.”

Energy surged through the completed working. Each performance space hummed with concentrated energy, the accumulated wonder and terror of countless shows.

The boundaries of our universe settled into place, and I grinned with satisfaction as the protection took hold. Every acrobatic flip, every burst of flame from Bex's hands, every illusion Cross conjured, each act of performance strengthened the barrier between us and those who would destroy us. The more we entertained, the more impenetrable our sanctuary would become.

The circus would be a perpetual cycle of magic. Fear and awe from the audience would feed into the protective weaving, which in turn would shield us, allowing us to perform again and generate more power. As long as the show continued, we would be hidden here from any and all seraphim hunters.

Maverick's voice rang out across the grounds, calling the first audience of the evening to gather. Above us, the Sisterstook flight, their aerial dance leaving trails of silver light. They spun in the space above, bodies writing poetry in the shadows. Their dance spoke of grace and danger, of beauty found in darkness. Cross's illusions rippled through the air and Bex's flames painted stories in brilliant oranges and deep blues. Their combined forces resonated and amplified the protection.

I felt them approaching before anyone else did—a large team of elite hunters moving through the shadows, their presence rippling through my careful weavings.

The last audience members were still filing out, their excited chatter echoing through the night air. Through our bond, I sensed Maverick's satisfaction with another successful show. The hunters' presence sent discordant notes through the network I'd created.

Through the tent walls, I watched Maverick directing the cleanup crew, his movements precise and controlled. Stone stood at the perimeter, his protective magic a steady pulse in my awareness. Lux moved among the remaining stragglers, his glamour ensuring they remembered only what they should.

Soon, very soon, the hunters would breach the outer wards. They were already testing the boundaries, probing for weaknesses. But I had prepared for this. I was ready for them, even if I could never be ready for the crater they’d leave.

I stepped out of my tent into the cool night air and the circus grounds humming with contained energy.

The first hunter breached our outer ward with a thunderous crack. The air rippled like a stone thrown in still water, sending vibrations through the air. More followed, their wings pooling darkness over the carnival grounds.

With a surge of Maverick's protective fury, he materialized beside me. “How many?”

“Twenty.” I traced the air with my fingers, following the paths of fate. “Elite squad.”

Stone's voice cut through the night. “Positions!”

Our performers scattered to their designated spots, a dance we'd practiced countless times. Bex's flames ignited, casting a preternatural glow across the grounds. The Sisters took to the air, dark shapes against the star-filled sky.

But something felt wrong. The webs weren't responding as they should. Normally powerful, they now seemed sluggish and discordant. I tried to gather them, to weave a defensive pattern, but they slipped through my grasp like slippery eels.

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