Page 38 of The Opening Act is Death
Fifty Five
Visha - Heart of The Carnival
To rule The Carnival, I had to break first. Now I rise; not as what they made me, but as what I’ve become.
The Carnival isn’t quiet anymore. Itsings.Not with music, but with the bone-deep hum of power shifting. The velvet trembles underfoot, mirrors flicker, tents breathe. It’s not mourning now. It’swatching.Waiting.Kneeling.
I walk the blood-soaked boards of the main tent alone, not performing, not punishing.Claiming.
I’ve earned every crown carved from ash, every title whispered like a curse.
Warden. Killer. Queen of Knives.
But this… this is different. This is mine. The throne waits at the center ring, iron, roses, thorns, and it’s not empty.
It’scalling.
The Carnival folds itself around me as I sit, not in submission.
Inrecognition.
I feel its breath inside my chest now.
Like a second heartbeat.
Like a promise.
Like aweapon.
The scars I bear are not chains anymore. They’re keys, every one of them forged in blood and betrayal, and I don’t regret a single one.
Corvan steps through the haze, not to kneel. But tostand beside me.
No illusion this time. No mask. Just the man who chose to stay in the fire. I reach for him, not as a test, but as a vow. My fingers thread with his.
Together, we face the damned.
Together, welead them.
The Carnival bows.
And I?
I smile, knives sheathed, but not forgotten, because I don’t need blades to rule anymore.
Iamthe blade.
Fifty Six
Carnival Interlude V: The Crown Bleeds
She did not steal the throne. She bled for it. And The Carnival drinks that kind of loyalty with both hands.
It watched her burn, watched her break. Watched her bury every soft thing that once made her human. And still, she rose. Not as the girl, not even as the monster.
As something older.
Hungrier.
