Page 28 of The Opening Act is Death
Thirty Four
Visha - We Were Never Meant to Survive This
I was supposed to stay unbroken. But he touches something real.
The Carnival is quiet, not still, never still. But she’s holding her breath again.
Because I haven’t spoken. The crowd dispersed hours ago. The Knife-Eater vanished into the bone tunnels beneath the stage. The mirrors are dust, but I’m still here.
And so is he.
Corvan stands in the center of the broken illusion ring, head bowed, hands stained with truth.
Not blood.
Worse.
Memory.
He showed them everything. He showedmeeverything, and I haven’t said a word. I think I’m afraid, not of him. Not anymore, but of the thing twisting in my ribs. The part of methat doesn’t want to kill him anymore. The part that feelsseen.I was supposed to stay unreachable. That was the deal. Power for silence. Command for isolation. A throne carved from absence. But now, he kneels. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t ask, justwaits.
He looks nothing like the man I remember, andexactlylike the boy I loved.
“You let him die,” I whisper.
“That boy who followed you.”
His shoulders stiffen, I step closer.
“You ran from me, not because I was weak… but because you were.”
“And now you think bleeding in front of The Carnival earns you absolution?”
He doesn’t flinch.
“No,” he says quietly. “I think it proves I was never worthy of you. But I wanted you to see the man you’re about to destroy before you do it.”
He lifts his gaze, and fuck, I hate him. I hate that he’s not lying anymore. Because I could survive the lies. Iwas builtto survive liars. But honesty? This kind? It wrecks me.
I drop to my knees in front of him. My skirts pool around us both, and for a long, empty moment, I just stare at him. My hands hover near his chest, not touching. Not yet. Because the moment I touch him, I’m not Madame Noire anymore.
I’m Visha.
The girl who once believed love could survive the fire.
“We were never meant to survive this,” I whisper.
“Not you. Not me. Not this fucking Carnival.”
He doesn’t argue. He just lets me break, and when my hand finally reaches for him when our fingers brush like ghosts finding each other after too many deaths, The Carnival weeps.
Not loudly. Just one light flickering out. One curtain drifting closed. One heartbeat folding into another. Because somethingrealjust happened, and the stage felt it.
Thirty Five
Corvan - You Look Like Her
I say the wrong name. And The Carnival turns on me.
