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Chapter Text

Welcome to the Circus of Strayed Souls… 🎪🖤

In the shadowy depths, far from the light of reality, a mysterious troupe wanders. Led by the captivating figure, Xopher. He is joined by seven other enigmatic performers: Reeno, Lhuys, Sæm, Pietro, Felice, Skye, and B♠p.

Each performance promises more than just entertainment, offering a taste of your deepest desires—but at a terrible cost. Every soul that enters this eerie realm may never leave, becoming forever bound to the mesmerizing darkness of the Circus.

You wanna come in? The show is about to begin. 🔥

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Character Introduction:

Xopher, the enigmatic and magnetic leader of the Circus of Strayed Souls, is a figure of both fascination and fear. Standing at the centre of his eerie yet mesmerising circus, Xopher commands the stage with an unsettling grace, drawing in all who dare enter his world. His face is pale ghostly white, smeared with red streaks around his lips, forming a twisted smile. His presence alone is enough to captivate any crowd—his smooth voice, beguiling smile, and piercing gaze make each person feel like they are the most important in the room. 

A long, jagged scar encircles one of his eyes, yet no one dares ask how he earned it. A black tear is painted down his cheek, a mockery of sorrow deepening his mysterious allure. His dark eyes shimmer with hypnotic intensity as if they can pierce directly into the souls of those watching.

His silver-white hair falls in tousled waves, framing his face and contrasting sharply with the intricate, dark patterns of his clothing. He wears a high-collared, lavishly embroidered checkerboard coat, draped elegantly over his broad shoulders, with swirling reds and blacks evoking the ominous energy of the circus itself. His sharp jawline, accentuated by the faintest traces of blood around his lips, gives him an almost predatory look. His pointed fangs peek out when he speaks, adding to his vampiric aura. Long, elegant earrings dangle from his ears, catching the dim light with every movement he makes, reminding the crowd of his finesse and control.

With a face that exudes equal parts danger and allure, Xopher weaves a spell over his audience. Every word is calculated, exploiting their deepest desires, fears, and regrets. He is a master manipulator, using his charm and charisma to tap into the hidden vulnerabilities of those who watch, convincing them that he holds the answers to their greatest wishes. For the lost, the broken, or the desperate, Xopher becomes an irresistible beacon of hope—or so it seems.

Charms:

Xopher's performances are hypnotic, with every act meticulously crafted to pull his audience deeper into the circus’s twisted reality. With a smooth voice and sharp wit, he preys on emotions, speaking directly to the audience’s most profound desires—whether it's the longing for success, love, power, or redemption. He promises not just entertainment, but salvation. An escape from their pain or fulfilment of their wildest dreams. This lures people into a trance-like state where their guard falls, leaving their souls exposed and vulnerable.

The circus itself reflects the audience’s innermost yearnings, with Xopher at its centre, spinning the narrative they crave. But beneath the caring, understanding façade lies a far more sinister intent.

Once his audience is entirely under his spell, Xopher performs his final act: a subtle, psychological seduction that traps their souls. As he locks eyes with his victims, his words drop to hushed tones that send shivers down their spines. In that moment, they feel a connection like no other, a bond that strips them of control and leaves their souls vulnerable. The more they surrender to their desires or fears, the more their life essence is drained—until it’s too late, and they realise they no longer control their fate.

With each soul he consumes, Xopher grows stronger. The trapped souls are not for him alone; he feeds the circus and his seven members. Every performance, every carefully laid trap, adds to the Circus of Strayed Souls' dark power. Moving from town to town, Xopher leaves behind nothing but empty shells of those who once believed in his deceptive promises of solace, their souls forever bound to the circus’s grasp.

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Character Introduction:

Reeno is the unshakable pillar of the Circus of Strayed Souls, always maintaining his stoic demeanour no matter the chaos surrounding him. Known for his ever-present poker face, Reeno rarely shows any emotion, exuding a sense of detachment that unnerves outsiders. To the circus members, however, Reeno is the silent protector. This figure quietly ensures everyone’s safety and well-being. Despite rarely expressing his feelings in words, Reeno’s actions speak louder than any emotional outburst ever could.

His appearance is as striking as it is paradoxical. Wild, bright pink hair crowns his head, a stark contrast to the cold, calculating aura he gives off. His face is painted with heart and diamond symbols, while a clown-like nose and stitched-up mouth makeup hint at a twisted playfulness beneath his composed exterior. Reeno’s sharp, watchful eyes are constantly calculating, never missing a single detail, and the numerous piercings along his ears add an edge to his otherwise silent demeanour. While his colourful, almost chaotic look may draw attention, it’s the unsettling calm he carries that keeps people on edge.

Though Reeno seems distant, his fierce loyalty to the circus and its members is undeniable. He cares for his troupe quietly and efficiently, often without acknowledgement or thanks. Ensuring the safety of their performers—Reeno does it all without fanfare. His dry, deadpan sense of humour is reserved for those closest to him, often teasing his members in a way that only those within the circus understand. Reeno’s subtle nurturing presence is what binds the troupe together, even if he rarely speaks of it.

Reserved and cold on the surface, Reeno’s true emotions are revealed only in small, intimate moments with the circus members. His loyalty runs deep, and he is willing to do whatever it takes to protect the family he’s come to cherish. For the circus, Reeno is not just a performer but the backbone that holds it all together.

Charms:

Reeno’s method of soul consumption is as cold and calculated as his demeanour. Unlike the grandiose displays that others in the circus may use, Reeno’s approach is subtle and insidious. He preys on the insecurities of his victims, chipping away at their confidence with a single look or an offhand comment. Reeno doesn’t rely on charm or emotion but rather becomes a silent reflection of the fears and doubts lurking within his targets.

His expressionless face and piercing gaze make people uncomfortable, forcing them to confront their deepest vulnerabilities. Reeno has a way of making people feel exposed and unworthy without ever saying much at all. He allows his victims’ minds to become their downfall, planting seeds of doubt and letting them grow. When his targets are isolated and emotionally drained, Reeno’s presence becomes suffocating, amplifying the loneliness and despair that ultimately lead to their spiritual downfall.

When the moment is right, Reeno approaches his victims in silence, letting his mere presence do the work. There is no need for words or elaborate manipulation—by the time Reeno strikes, the victim’s soul is already ripe for the taking. His final moments are marked by the same unchanging poker face, the cold, detached stare that watches as life drains from the victim, leaving behind nothing but a hollow.

Reeno’s way of consuming souls is slow, methodical, and terrifyingly quiet. The more his victims dwell on their insecurities, the easier it becomes for Reeno to syphon their life essence. His power lies in his silence and stillness, making the victim feel as though their downfall is entirely of their own making. Reeno’s detached demeanour only deepens the horror, as he watches without emotion while his victims fade into nothingness, their souls consumed to fuel the dark energy of the circus.

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Character Introduction:

Lhuys stands out in the dark and mysterious world of the Circus of Strayed Souls with a commanding and intimidating presence. His dead stare, big muscles and unruly black hair give him an almost otherworldly look. Draped in a gothic attire, marked by striking red and black patterns, Lhuys embodies both terror and fascination. His physical body is as hard as steel, allowing him to withstand the harshest conditions and making him nearly impervious to damage. This immense strength and his quick, almost electric speech make him seem like a force of nature, untouchable by fear.

Though Lhuys might seem rough or aggressive to outsiders, he is incredibly protective and gentle towards his fellow circus members. In particular, his bond with them is filled with loyalty, care, and silent understanding. Lhuys is known to be the loudest, his voice is always dominant in any situation, yet he is capable of subtle acts of kindness within the circus. However, when it comes to outsiders or enemies, his ruthlessness knows no bounds.

Lhuys mirrors the fierce and bold energy, possessing a fiery passion and a larger-than-life attitude. He’s full of charisma, unapologetically confident, and brimming with energy. He moves quickly, thinks quickly, and speaks even faster—so much so that people often struggle to keep up with him. His words can sting as they race from his tongue like lightning, yet there’s an undeniable charm in his brashness. He’s fiercely protective of those he cares about and will not hesitate to put himself in harm’s way for his circus family. His confidence never falters, and his determination drives him to stay in control.

Charms:

Lhuys’ charm lies in his overwhelming strength, confidence, and sheer energy. The circus thrives on dark, ethereal energy, and as the strongest of the troupe, Lhuys has the most effective method of consuming souls. When he finds a soul worthy of being claimed, Lhuys uses his fast-talking nature and charisma to first disorient and overwhelm his victim. His voice, like a hypnotic rhythm, draws in the soul and lures it closer to him. Once under his spell, Lhuys reveals the true extent of his strength.

His costume—marked by symbols that glow with a malevolent red light—becomes a conduit for soul consumption. As he embraces the soul, a powerful force field generated by his unyielding body traps the essence of the soul within his grip. The victim feels as though their spirit is being pulled into an endless abyss, with no escape. Lhuys' steel-like body serves as the ultimate vessel to contain the soul, hardening even more as he absorbs its energy, making him stronger with each consumed spirit.

When Lhuys consumes a soul, he does not simply devour it. Instead, the soul becomes part of his strength, blending into his very core, and fueling his unmatched physical power. This process is both painful and exhilarating to watch, as the glowing red markings on his body intensify, signaling that another unfortunate victim has become a part of the Circus of Strayed Souls.

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Character Introduction:

Sæm possesses an ethereal visual allure, with striking features that blend elegance and mystery. His movements are captivating; every step, gesture, and glance draws the audience deeper into his mesmerising world. He is not only visually seductive but also possesses a deep knowledge of various art forms, incorporating them into his performances. His duality lies in his delicate yet commanding presence, a figure who evokes both admiration and fear.

Sæm’s enigmatic expression and graceful movement in performances hypnotise audiences, making them feel like they are witnessing a work of living art. His appearance, with carefully crafted makeup, intricate earrings, and smooth, porcelain-like skin, is only the surface of what makes him magnetic. There’s a haunting beauty in his expressions, which never fully reveal his inner thoughts, keeping him a subject of intrigue.

Sæm is artistic, elegant, and emotionally expressive. He is confident but carries an air of mystery that makes it difficult for others to fully know him. Sæm is a perfectionist when it comes to his craft and takes pride in his artistry. His charm lies in his quiet intensity, his presence always commanding attention but never fully unravelling.

Charms:

Sæm’s charm is not just a passive trait—it is a mechanism through which he captures the essence of his audience. His ability to consume souls is woven into his art, particularly his dance. As he performs, his movements align with the rhythm of the onlookers' hearts. With each step, he siphons away fragments of their emotions and desires. His alluring presence is designed to seduce the senses and confuse the mind, making those who watch him unaware of the energy being drained from them.

When Sæm locks eyes with a victim, his gaze deepens into their very soul, creating a trance-like state. At this moment, their emotional vulnerabilities are laid bare, and through a single motion—a delicate spin, a sway of the hand—he can take control of their spirit, slowly pulling their soul into his domain. His seductive aura is both beautiful and dangerous, leaving his victims enthralled until they are completely consumed.

Once the soul has been captured, Sæm weaves it into the Circus of Strayed Souls, turning it into part of the eternal performance that he and the other circus members carry out. Though he appears graceful and tender, the souls he consumes add to his allure, growing his power and his artistic finesse, leaving behind empty, wandering husks in his wake.

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Character Introduction:

While the other performers possess supernatural talents, Pietro’s gift is more sinister and beguiling: he can lure his victims by mimicking their deepest desires and emotions. Unlike simple trickery or imitation, Pietro taps into the unspoken thoughts and secret longings of those around him. His hidden eyes, which he carefully keeps covered, act as mirrors to the souls of others. Through them, he reflects an irresistible version of whatever his target craves most, be it love, approval, admiration, or companionship.

Dressed in a jester-like ensemble with mismatched diamonds and sombre colours, Pietro embodies a duality that unsettles and entrances. He is both sensitive and coldly calculating, playing on the emotions of others with dark humour and a twisted sense of innocence. His charm is disarming, drawing people toward him as they search for the comfort or validation they unknowingly seek. This makes him a versatile and charismatic performer, able to adapt his act to any crowd or individual, always knowing just what to say, how to act, and what expression to wear.

Beneath his seemingly playful demeanour, his heart is attuned to the smallest emotional vibrations, allowing him to exploit the vulnerability of others. Whether on stage or in private, his innocent face hides a dangerous mind capable of weaving illusions that feel real, pulling his victims ever closer to him with a charm they can not resist. His performances are always personal, subtly crafted to reflect the desires of his audience, even when they do not realise they are being drawn into his trap.

Charms:

Pietro’s true power lies not in the performance itself, but in the way he lures his victims into his trap. By using his hidden eyes, he captures the unspoken desires of his target and reflects an idealized, captivating version of what they seek most. Whether it’s a performer longing for admiration or an audience member seeking an emotional connection, Pietro becomes the living embodiment of their dreams.

Once his victim is entranced, they are pulled deeper into his illusion, unable to resist the allure of their own reflected desires. Pietro’s charm works like a slow, hypnotic poison, sapping the energy and spirit of his victim with every passing moment. The closer they get to him, the more they give away of themselves, not realizing that their soul are being drained. His voice, his expressions, his movements—all are calculated to keep his prey under his spell.

As Pietro continues to feed on their emotional vulnerability, his victims become hollowed out, their souls consumed by the very thing they longed for. They become a mere shadow of their former selves, while Pietro grows ever stronger. His eyes, when fully revealed, act as conduits, absorbing the life force of his victims as he reflects their desires to them.

In the end, those who fall prey to Pietro’s charm are left hollow, drained of the very essence that made them unique. His victims remain trapped in the cycle of chasing their unattainable desires, while Pietro moves on to his next unsuspecting target, always the perfect lure, always the Ace of the Troupe.

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Character Introduction:

The younger twin of Pietro. With an androgynous beauty that feels both otherworldly and approachable, Felice is a master of charming innocence. His face is softly dusted with freckles, like a constellation of stars, adding a touch of celestial whimsy to his ethereal appearance. His most captivating feature is his angelic smile—a radiant expression that can melt the hardest of hearts and draw people into his orbit with ease. Dark, tousled hair frames his face, with red heart-shaped markings beneath his eyes that further enhance his aura of innocence, love, and warmth.

Felice's attire reflects his playful yet regal nature, adorned with vibrant reds and patterns of hearts. He wears a jester’s hat, a patchwork of colours and elaborate, floppy points perfectly complementing his joyful and whimsical demeanour. The jester’s hat adds an extra layer to his image—a playful symbol of trickery, hiding the darkness beneath. His outfit is an eclectic mixture of bright colours and intricate designs, interwoven with subtle skull motifs, hinting at the deeper, more dangerous side of his personality. The vivid red gloves and billowing sleeves of his costume complete the ensemble, making Felice the embodiment of joy, warmth, and mischief within the troupe.

Adored by his fellow members, Felice is seen as The Harbinger of Mirth—a shining, joyful presence that brings light to even the darkest corners of the troupe. His deep, velvety voice contrasts with his playful, innocent exterior, a clue to the underlying complexity of his character. Despite his outward sweetness, Felice is a skilled manipulator, using his charm to weave a dangerous illusion of happiness.

Charms:

Felice’s angelic smile and constellation-like freckles are his tools of deception, pulling his victims into a dreamscape of joy and warmth. His freckled cheeks and innocent eyes immediately disarm anyone who crosses his path, and his soft demeanour invites trust. With his jester’s hat bobbing cheerfully, Felice uses his lighthearted, playful charm to lull his victims into a false sense of security, crafting an illusion of endless happiness.

As his victims are drawn deeper into this world of joy, the lines between reality and illusion blur. Felice becomes the sun in their universe, his warmth and light making them feel invincible, loved, and completely safe. His soft laughter and friendly manner reinforce this feeling, keeping them ensnared in the fantasy he weaves. They see only the bright reds and vibrant colours of his costume, unaware of the skulls hidden within the patterns—symbols of the darkness he conceals.

But Felice’s playful facade is only temporary. Once his victims are entirely immersed in the illusion, he subtly begins to unravel the joy he has given them. His voice deepens, taking on an eerie, haunting tone that contrasts sharply with the warmth they’ve grown accustomed to. His once-angelic smile becomes unnerving, and the happiness they feel begins to twist into fear and confusion. The world of light he created suddenly darkens, and they realise too late that they are trapped.

At this moment, Felice begins to consume their souls, feeding off the joy and happiness he lured them with. His victims, disoriented and unable to distinguish between reality and the fantasy he crafted, find themselves drained of all emotion, their souls slowly slipping away. With each breath, Felice siphons their essence, leaving them as empty, hollow shells.

Though his angelic smile never falters, Felice leaves a trail of soulless victims in his wake, their joy consumed by the radiant heart of the circus—who, in truth, burns with a dark, insatiable hunger. His playful jester’s hat is a perfect symbol of the trickster within, masking the deadly allure he wields with such effortless charm.

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Character Introduction:

Skye’s personality is akin to that of a golden retriever, he’s playful, loyal, and radiates warmth. His bubbly and friendly demeanour makes him adored by his troupe, especially as he expresses affection through playful pranks. However, beneath his carefree exterior lies a more cunning nature, reserved for those who fall into his web of charm.

Skye’s appearance reflects his dual nature. His dark, slightly tousled hair frames his innocent face. His wide, puppy-like eyes sparkle with mischief, while his serene smile could melt even the hardest of hearts. His jester attire—decorated in reds, golds, and blacks—completes his lighthearted, carefree persona, and his balloons, often carried in hand, serve as symbols of fleeting joy. Skye’s personality may come off as sweet and calm, but beneath that exterior lies a trickster ready to turn the tables on anyone who underestimates him.

Charms:

Skye lures his victims with his angelic voice, his most potent tool. His singing is so pure and soothing that it creates a sense of joy and calm, enveloping listeners in a cocoon of bliss. Much like a golden retriever seeking to bring happiness, Skye offers his voice as a gift to his audience, leading them to believe they’ve found paradise. His warm smile and gentle gaze reinforce the illusion that they are in the presence of someone trustworthy and safe.

His songs are hypnotic, and as his victims are lulled into a euphoric state, the boundary between reality and illusion becomes blurred. Skye’s performance makes them forget the world outside as if nothing exists except his voice and the comfort he offers. But behind that warmth, Skye is carefully draining their vitality, consuming their souls note by note.

When they are entirely lost in the dream world he creates his voice changes. The joy fades, and a haunting melody takes its place. His voice grows deeper, and darker, twisting the comforting illusion into something terrifying. His once-soft smile becomes sharp, and his victims, now helpless, realise too late that they’ve been deceived. Their souls are consumed by the enchanting song, leaving them as hollow, lifeless shells.

Skye, still wearing his innocent, angelic smile, finishes his performance with grace—ready to find his next victim, eager to enchant and deceive once again.

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Character Introduction:

An enigmatic yet thoughtful nature. His outward demeanour is shy and reserved, often observing from the shadows while his older siblings take centre stage. B♠p may seem quiet and introverted, but beneath this exterior is a mind constantly turning, reflecting, and crafting new plans.

Despite his quietness, B♠p harbours a mischievous side. Playful pranks or subtle tricks on his fellow serve as his way of bonding with the troupe. He's hard-working, dedicated, and, most of all, never fully satisfied with his performances—always striving for perfection. His greatest passion is the piano, where he expresses his emotions through melodies, creating hypnotic tunes that captivate anyone who listens. Though thoughtful and reflective, his music allows him to manipulate others with precision, moving them like puppets on strings.

In appearance, B♠p’s pale complexion is punctuated by soft, doll-like features. His slightly tousled dark hair falls into his eyes, which glint with curiosity and reserved intensity. His clothing mirrors his subtle elegance, with muted tones of green, gold, and black, which contrast sharply against the bright red balloon he often carries—another symbol of his quiet mischief. A mask, which he occasionally dons, hides his more playful side, but when it’s off, his innocent face reveals the complex soul underneath.

Charms:

B♠p’s weapon of choice is his piano, a seemingly innocuous instrument through which he channels his dark magic. His music begins with light, joyful notes, enticing his audience to let their guard down, seduced by the carefree tune that washes over them. The rhythm gradually builds, and without even realizing it, his victims become entranced, their bodies moving in sync with the melody as though their limbs are no longer their own.

As the song progresses, B♠p assumes complete control. His fingers glide across the keys, each stroke of his hands commanding their actions, like a puppeteer controlling marionettes. Victims dance and sway to the rhythm, hypnotized by the sound of the music, unable to break free from its grip. They smile and laugh, thinking they are revelling in the joy of the moment, all while B♠p pulls them deeper into his hypnotic trance.

By the time the final note fades, it’s too late. The energy that once animated his victims is gone, their souls drained to feed the insatiable hunger of the Circus of Strayed Souls. The bodies left behind become hollow shells, mere reflections of who they once were, as B♠p silently steps away, leaving no trace of the darkness hidden within his playful melodies.

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Background Music

A heavy mist blanketed the ground, twisting like ghostly fingers around the feet of those daring enough to wander close. Silence hung in the air, broken only by an eerie melody drifting from somewhere unseen. Rising from the mist, a towering red-and-black striped tent appeared as if from a dream. Its entrance glowed with the dim light of flickering lanterns, casting strange shadows across the ground. Above it, a crooked sign swayed gently: The Circus of Strayed Souls.

Felice stood near the entrance, his angelic smile decorating his androgynous face. “This must be a good day, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice soft yet innocent as he gently ran his fingers through his twin’s hair, untangling it with tenderness.

“Huh? You mean a good evening?” Pietro murmured, swinging his legs playfully atop an empty barrel.

Felice laughed softly, pausing in his task. “Oh, right! Evening, then. A good evening it is.”

“You always make the mundane feel special, Felice. It's what makes you… you,” Pietro replied, his eyes half-closed as Felice continued to pamper him.

On the other side of the circus area, Reeno and Lhuys were hard at work, lifting heavy boxes in preparation for the night’s show. Reeno’s steady, calculated movements contrasted sharply with Lhuys’s boisterous energy. As Reeno hoisted a large crate with ease, his bright pink hair caught the dim light, standing out against the dark backdrop of the circus.

“Careful there,” Reeno remarked dryly, glancing sideways at Lhuys. “Don’t drop anything.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Lhuys shot back, laughter booming as he hoisted a box that seemed far too heavy for most. “I’ve got this! It’s not too heavy for the strongest member of the troupe!”

With a playful wink, Reeno added the boxes he held to Lhuys, increasing the weight. “Hold this then, big guy,” he teased, watching Lhuys struggle for a moment to balance the extra burden.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Lhuys exclaimed, his grin faltering as he adjusted to the sudden challenge. “You’re supposed to be helping, not turning me into a human crane!”

Reeno chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Just making sure you can back up all that bravado.”

“Fine, but just wait until the show starts!” Lhuys replied, determination shining in his eyes. “I’ll show you just how strong I really am!”

“Bring it on,” Reeno said, raising an eyebrow. “But let’s focus on not collapsing under all this weight first.”

Meanwhile, in the grand tent, the enchanting notes flowed from the piano, Sæm moved gracefully, a playful glimmer in his eyes. Always looking for chances to tease B♠p, he called out, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Hey, B♠p!”

Caught up in his playing, B♠p sensed the playful trouble brewing. Without warning, Sæm leaned down and gently messed up B♠p’s face, treating him like a little brother. “Why do you look so cute when focused?” he teased, his voice lilting with mock sweetness.

B♠p flinched slightly, his fingers faltering on the keys as he pulled away, an expression of mock horror on his face. “Stop babying me!” He turned his head, attempting to shield himself from further teasing. “Argh, don’t touch me!”

Sæm chuckled, stepping back but not missing a beat. “Oh, come on! Just embrace it!”

“Please, I’m an adult!” B♠p protested, trying to sound indignant but unable to suppress a smile. “I have a reputation to uphold!”

Sæm leaned closer, a playful sparkle in his eyes. “Reputation? More like ‘baby of the troupe’! Just let me spoil you a little!” He wiggled his fingers in a mock attempt to mess up B♠p’s hair.

B♠p quickly raised his hands defensively. Laughing, Sæm relented, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! I’ll lay off for now. But only until after the show! Just wait until I have a chance to mess with you again!”

B♠p sighed dramatically but chuckled, the warmth of their camaraderie washing over him. “You’re impossible. Just focus on your dancing, will you?”

Sæm flashed a triumphant grin. “You know I can’t resist! Just remember, B♠p, I’m always watching for my next chance!” He spun away, resuming his warm-up, leaving B♠p shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

Not far from the main tent, Skye prepared in his own way. Inside his tent, the sound of his voice echoed through the circus grounds like a haunting siren. His smooth, ethereal tones wove through the air, rising and falling in hypnotic waves. Each note reverberated with the very essence of the circus, pulling the dark magic of the tent into every corner of the grounds.

Skye stood with his eyes closed, controlling his breath with laser focus. His usually sweet voice took on a sharper, commanding edge as he tested his vocal range. His high notes pierced the air with haunting beauty, unnerving in their clarity, sending shivers down the spines of anyone close enough to hear.

Outside Skye’s tent, Xopher stood silently, his sharp gaze observing. As the leader, he made it his duty to ensure every detail of the circus was flawless. But tonight, his mind wandered, drawn in by the siren-like pull of Skye’s voice. He found himself lingering outside the tent, unable to tear away from the mesmerizing sound.

Just in time, Skye stepped outside, his eyes immediately catching Xopher’s figure. He smirked, already knowing who it was. “Eavesdropping, aren’t you?” Skye asked, his voice laced with playful menace, though a dark edge underlined his words.

Xopher, master of charm, raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a knowing grin. “I’m just passing by,” he began smoothly, “and thought to offer you some praise.”

Skye chuckled, stepping closer to Xopher with a mocking bow. “Praise from you? How gracious.”

Xopher grinned, not denying the accusation. “Well, I’m just making sure everything is perfect. We still need the crowd’s souls, not just their attention.”

Skye straightened, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Oh, I’ll get more than their attention tonight. Just wait until they hear me in full force.”

Xopher’s gaze flickered with approval before he turned to leave. “I’ll be watching. Make sure you’re ready to take their breath away… literally.”

With that, Xopher walked off into the shadows, leaving Skye standing there, his smile widening. He had always enjoyed the push and pull with Xopher, their banter veiling a deeper respect. Tonight would be no different—Skye would captivate, and Xopher would watch, pleased.

As the night deepened, the circus grounds started to fill with eager, curious souls. Each performer stood at their booth, weaving their magic with effortless charm. From the misty edges of the dark world beyond, figures emerged, drawn like moths to the flame of something unknown yet irresistible.

Reeno’s cold, calculating stare reflected the deepest insecurities of those who ventured too close, leaving them unnerved and exposed. Lhuys, with his booming voice and overwhelming energy, pulled the crowd in with promises of strength and thrill.

Sæm moved like a shadow, his ethereal dance captivating all who watched, drawing them further into the circus’s enchantment. Pietro played to their deepest desires, his illusions creating an irresistible pull, while Felice greeted the audience with his innocent smile and warm laughter, a disarming presence hiding the darkness beneath.

Skye’s haunting voice rang out, calling to the lost and the curious, beckoning them closer to his tent. B♠p’s piano sent soft, hypnotic melodies through the air, subtly tugging at the minds of those passing by.

Midnight arrived, casting an eerie stillness over the circus grounds. Anticipation hung heavy in the air as the crowd grew restless, their eyes flicking toward the grand tent. Xopher stood at the centre, dark gaze scanning the sea of faces. He watched with satisfaction as the audience fell deeper into the circus’s spell, their desires and fears ripe for the taking.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Xopher raised his hand and flicked his fingers. The sharp sound cut through the air, a silent command.

Felice caught Xopher’s signal, his freckled face lighting up with a playful grin. Without missing a beat, he left his booth, walking with a bouncy, carefree stride that belied the dark intentions simmering beneath his cheerful exterior. His jester-like attire fluttered around him as he moved, drawing curious glances from the audience as he headed toward the grand tent.

With each step, Felice’s energy pulled the crowd closer, their curiosity piqued by his carefree demeanour. Reaching the entrance of the grand tent, he turned to face the gathering crowd, raising a hand with a playful, beckoning gesture.

“Hey, you wanna come in?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying the weight of something far more sinister. His fingers curled in an inviting motion, a smile dancing across his lips as he gave a final wink. Then, just like that, he disappeared inside the grand tent, leaving the crowd hanging on the edge of his invitation.

The crowd murmured with excitement, inching closer, entranced by his playful charm. Just as he expected, one by one, they stepped forward, lured by the promise of wonder and magic that lay just beyond the tent's entrance.

Behind the crowd, Xopher’s smile widened maniacally as he watched his team work their magic. The show was about to begin. The audience followed, spellbound. The night’s true performance was about to unfold.

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Background music

The crowd murmured with excitement as they made their way into the big tent. Dim lanterns swayed softly from the ceiling, casting flickering shadows across the room. The stage stood in the middle, dark and quiet, wrapped in deep red and black curtains that moved as if something alive was waiting behind them.

Xopher’s silhouette appeared at the far end of the tent, still as a statue yet commanding every eye in the room. His very posture promised something unforgettable was about to begin.

The lights dimmed to near black, and a haunting piano tune by B♠p drifted through the tent, creating a mysterious atmosphere. Xopher’s voice broke through the silence, smooth and hypnotic.

“Welcome to the Circus of Strayed Souls,” Xopher’s voice echoed, filled with dark allure. “Tonight, you will witness wonders beyond imagination… and perhaps, you will lose yourselves along the way.” He began his hypnotic storytelling, weaving the narrative through the performance.

The audience fell silent, their attention locked on the stage. Cloaked in shadow, Xopher began to weave his tale. “Once upon a time, in a world much like ours but veiled in mystery, there lived a soul unlike any other…”

As if summoned by his words, Felice appeared from behind the curtains, soaring high above the stage on a swing. His bright and innocent energy lit up the stage, creating a stark contrast to the dark mood. Felice’s androgynous beauty and playful spirit charmed the audience instantly, his freckles shining like a constellation of stars. His movements were graceful, filled with joy, as he twirled through the air.

“Hi everyone, I’m Felice!” he exclaimed, spreading an angelic smile—a radiant expression that could melt the hardest of hearts. His voice was bright and uplifting.

“A soul full of light, untouched by the darkness of this world. His innocence is his greatest gift… and perhaps, his greatest curse.” Xopher narrated.

Felice twirled gracefully in the air, his limbs extending in perfect harmony with the swing. His movements were filled with joy, his laughter light and pure, like the tinkling of wind chimes. As he descended closer to the audience, he beamed, waving and smiling, his energy infectious. His soft and cheerful voice joined Xopher’s narration, bringing the story to life.

“I always believed in the beauty of the unknown,” Felice chimed in. “Everything has its magic, and I want to find it—whether it’s in the sky, or here with you.”

As he flipped through the air, the crowd watched in awe, his innocence standing in stark contrast to the dark tale unfolding. Xopher continued the story, now with a gentler tone as Felice’s personality brightened the stage.

“But the world is not always kind to the pure-hearted,” Xopher said, his voice low. “And Felice’s journey will be one of discovery—where light meets shadow.”

Felice, now hanging just above the stage, gazed upward as if dreaming of unreachable worlds. His movements, slow and graceful, reflected a quiet contemplation of Xopher’s words. Despite the dark undertones around him, his radiant smile never wavered—his hope unbroken.

The soft glow of the lights barely illuminated him as he floated in the air, swinging gently as if it were an extension of himself. Though his bright presence lingered, he gracefully allowed the spotlight to shift when Pietro stepped forward. Felice’s smile softened, and his sparkling eyes watched with curiosity as the atmosphere shifted, growing darker and more mysterious. He remained aloft, an ethereal figure offering a comforting contrast to Pietro’s unsettling presence.

“May I have your attention, my ladies and gentlemen?” Pietro’s voice sliced through the air, a whisper laced with command. A smirk played on his lips as he mimicked Felice's fluid movements. “Ain’t nobody can do it like this?”

The crowd, already entranced by Felice’s innocence, now found themselves caught in the hypnotic sway of Pietro’s sinister charm. While Felice floated high, a symbol of purity and hope, Pietro grounded mirrored performance with his darker allure. His movements were sharp and calculated. The eyepatch covering his right eye added an air of mystery, enhancing his dangerous appeal. His voice, his gestures and his presence pulled the audience in like a magnetic force.

Felice descended slightly, his swing lowering him to the stage's edge, his brightness like a flickering candle beside Pietro’s shadow. The contrast between the two was striking—Felice, the embodiment of innocence and joy, and Pietro, the reflection of hidden desires lurking in the mind’s dark corners.

“Not everything is as it seems,” Xopher narrated, his voice weaving the two characters together. “For even in the brightest light, shadows lurk.”

Felice approached Pietro, his steps light and curious, like a child encountering something new and mysterious. “You’re so different from me,” he remarked softly, wonder still tinged in his voice. “But… there’s something familiar.”

Pietro turned, a knowing smile curling his lips. “Perhaps, Felice,” he replied smoothly, “it’s because we both offer something the world craves—something they cannot resist. You bring light and hope… I reflect what they truly desire.”

Felice’s innocent gaze lingered on Pietro’s eyepatch. “But why hide your eye? You don’t need to. People will love you without it.”

Pietro chuckled, a sound both light and foreboding. “Ah, but it’s not about me,” he replied, mischief dripping from his tone. “It’s about them. They see what they wish for, and that’s my gift. Perhaps… my curse.”

The crowd was captivated by the duality unfolding before them. The two performers danced around each other—Felice twirling lightly, his swing wrapping around him like a cradle; Pietro’s movements were sharp, precise, mimicking Felice’s grace with an unsettling edge. Their dance became a ballet of light and shadow, as B♠p’s haunting piano music swelled once more, filling the tent with a sense of wonder and unease.

“And so,” Xopher’s voice echoed, “the brightest light and the darkest desire meet. But can they coexist?”

Felice extended his hand towards Pietro, his fingers open and full of hope. “Maybe we don’t have to be so different.”

Pietro’s smile widened, though his eye remained hidden. He took Felice’s hand gently, his touch both comforting and cold. “Perhaps, Felice,” he whispered, “but remember, your light won’t always guide, and my darkness isn’t always cruel.”

Suddenly, a soft, enchanting voice floated through the tent, wrapping the audience in its magic. Skye, the Enchanting Illusionist, emerged from the shadows, his presence elegant and almost otherworldly. His voice, filled with magic, wove a beautiful melody, making the air shimmer with illusions.

The tent transformed before their eyes. The stage, once simple, now felt vast and limitless, like Felice and Pietro were dancing among the stars. Skye’s voice, haunting and beautiful, created the illusion—Felice’s swing glowed like moonlight, while Pietro’s form shifted, becoming more elusive, like a shadow playing tricks. Their connection deepened, their movements in sync yet contrasting, pulling the audience further into their magical world.

Xopher’s voice returned, calm but powerful. “And so, as the illusion grows, so does the bond between light and shadow. What started as opposites now dances in harmony—light from the purest hope, shadow from the deepest desire.”

The crowd watched in awe as Felice and Pietro moved together, their dance lifted by Skye’s magical illusions. The stage sparkled with magic, and for a moment, it felt like the line between reality and fantasy had vanished.

Felice’s bright smile shone even as he danced within Pietro’s shadow. The audience realized this was more than just a performance—it was a delicate balance between trust and temptation, light and darkness.

"Now this is what you’ve been waiting for..." Skye sang, his voice weaving illusions through the air, making the world seem even more alive and magical. Felice and Pietro danced in sync, their movements a contrast of light and shadow, innocence and desire. But as Skye’s voice swelled, so too did the tension.

Sæm appeared, emerging from the shadows like a predator stalking its prey. His movements were smooth and graceful, like a spider closing in on its victim. His sharp features, enhanced by intricate makeup and delicate earrings, only made him more sinister. The audience couldn't look away as he prowled closer to Felice, eyes filled with hunger.

Sensing the danger, Felice instinctively moved toward Pietro. But in an instant, Pietro transformed—his body shifting until he became an exact reflection of Felice. Their movements blended together, creating a mesmerizing dance where the lines between them blurred. “You can’t escape the dance,” Pietro's voice echoed, now tinged with a darker edge that resembled Sæm’s.

The audience gasped, unsure of who was who, their eyes darting between the two figures. The tension in the tent thickened as they tried to unravel the illusion.

Xopher’s voice cut through the air, guiding the audience's thoughts. “And now, the hunter circles. Can you tell who’s real?”

But Sæm wasn’t fooled. He chuckled softly, his voice smooth like silk. He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with malice. “You think you can hide from me, little dove?” he whispered, his movements slow and deliberate, like a spider spinning its web. “I can see through your light and feel your fear.”

Without warning, Reeno appeared at Sæm’s side, his face expressionless, painted with heart and diamond symbols. His bright pink hair contrasted sharply with his cold, doll-like demeanour. He stood still, like a puppet waiting for its strings to be pulled.

And pull them, Sæm did. With a flick of his wrist, invisible threads of power connected them, and Reeno moved with the same eerie grace as Sæm, though his face stayed blank. It was as if Sæm was playing with a life-sized doll, directing every step.

The audience watched in awe and fear as Reeno advanced toward the two Felices, arms outstretched. Felice backed away, his light dimming slightly as fear crept in.

But Pietro, ever the trickster, wasn’t backing down. Even in Felice’s form, his eyes gleamed with mischief. “You’re not the only one with tricks, Sæm,” Pietro said, his voice still soft like Felice’s. He stepped forward with confidence, drawing Sæm’s attention away from the real Felice.

Xopher's voice narrated the moment, “The shadows play their games, but who will outsmart the other?”

Sæm smirked, watching Pietro closely. “Oh, I know, Pietro. But this time, the game is mine to win.” He twirled gracefully, flicking his gaze toward Reeno. With another flick of his fingers, Reeno lunged at the decoy Felice, his movements sharp and calculated.

At that moment, Skye’s voice swelled, his song intensifying. His illusions flickered across the stage, casting multiple images of Felice and Pietro. The audience gasped as they saw several versions of them, their forms shifting in and out of existence. Reality blurred with magic, making it impossible to tell what was real.

Xopher’s voice boomed from above, “And now the web tightens. Will the prey escape, or will the spider claim his prize?”

The real Felice took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Sæm. “I won’t let you take me,” he whispered, his voice trembling but determined. His light flickered, but it still burned brightly.

Sæm smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “We shall see, little dove. We shall see.” His steps were slow and graceful, like a predator savouring the chase, as he moved closer to Felice, guiding Reeno with invisible threads.

The tension thickened as Sæm approached, the audience holding their breath, caught in the mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. The stage was set for a confrontation—Felice’s innocence, Pietro’s trickery, Sæm’s sinister charm, and Reeno’s silent menace collided in a performance that left the audience on edge, their hearts pounding in time with the haunting music.

Xopher’s voice rose above the silence, “And now, the stage darkens, but the danger grows. Who will break first in this deadly game?”

From the shadows, another figure emerged—Lhuys. His presence was commanding, his muscles like steel, and his wild black hair moved as if alive. His red-and-black gothic attire glowed eerily, making him both terrifying and fascinating to behold. The air around him seemed to hum with raw power.

Xopher’s voice boomed, “And so the storm enters, fierce and untamed. But does he come to protect… or to destroy?”

Lhuys strode confidently into the spotlight, scanning the crowd with his cold, unblinking eyes. “What’s this?” he said, his voice thunderous. “A little game without me?” There was a mocking tone to his words, but beneath it lay a dangerous edge.

Felice flinched, but Pietro stood firm beside him, used to Lhuys’ overwhelming presence. Yet, even Pietro never felt truly at ease around the man.

Xopher’s voice continued, “Lhuys—the unstoppable force, protector and storm, feared by all yet bound by loyalty. His strength unmatched, his loyalty unbreakable.”

“You’re not needed here, Lhuys,” Pietro said, his voice steady but low.

Lhuys let out a sharp laugh. “Not needed?” he echoed. “You’ll find you need me now more than ever.” His boots hit the stage like thunder, each step a reminder of his power.

Suddenly, a soft melody filled the air, haunting and beautiful. Skye had appeared in the background, his voice adding a sense of melancholy to the tension. His song echoed like a warning, a lullaby of danger.

Xopher’s voice softened, “The melody shifts, and with it, the stage trembles. Beware the storm, for even light cannot pierce through the shadows it brings.”

“Breaking my limits every fight. I'm climbing pinnacles and heights. If I fall, I know I'll rise up again. I will never stop.” Skye’s voice carried through the tent as the piano joined the melody, its eerie notes filling the space. B♠p sat at the grand piano, his pale hands moving gracefully over the keys, creating an atmosphere of rising tension. Each note seemed to pull the audience deeper into the unfolding scene.

Felice turned to Pietro, his voice was soft and unsure. “Lhuys is strong... but can he stop what’s coming?”

Sæm’s voice cut through the air, cold and mocking. “Oh, the muscle has arrived. But tell me, Lhuys, can brute strength outsmart my cunning?”

Xopher’s voice echoed above, “The challenge is made. Muscle against mind. But storms don’t yield to webs.”

Lhuys stepped forward, his markings glowing brighter. “Your tricks are nothing but lies. I’m the storm that’ll tear you apart.”

Sæm smiled, raising his hands and summoning illusions that flickered like flames around him. “We’ll see,” he whispered darkly.

Without warning, one of Sæm’s illusions shot toward Reeno, who stood stiffly, still under Sæm’s control. The power around him tightened, making his movements jerk like a puppet on strings.

Xopher’s voice sharpened. “The puppet dances, but the storm advances.”

With a roar, Lhuys raised his arms, the glow from his body pulsing with power. He charged toward Sæm, his only goal to break the control that held Reeno captive.

Sæm’s laughter filled the tent as Lhuys closed in. “You think you can stop me?” Sæm hissed. “You’ll regret this.”

But Lhuys wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on Reeno. He reached out, and as his hand touched the invisible threads binding Reeno, the air sizzled with energy. Lhuys’ glow flared, burning bright red as he fought against Sæm’s power.

Skye’s haunting melody grew louder, the music swirling around them as the struggle intensified. “Chasing my dreams until I die. You got me reaching for the light. Outta breath, but I'll never rest. 'Cause I was born to try, I'll climb with the endless night. ”

“With hearts united, we will not fall, In this circus of strife, we stand tall…” Xopher guided the audience’s focus as the battle unfolded.

Lhuys pulled harder, his will unshakable. For a moment, it seemed like Sæm’s hold was about to snap.

“I’ll protect my own,” Lhuys muttered, his voice deep like thunder. “Even against death.”

The audience sat in breathless silence as Lhuys and Sæm’s powers collided, the air between them electric with tension. B♠p’s frantic piano playing matched the escalating drama, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Finally, with one final surge of strength, Lhuys let out a roar, breaking the web that bound Reeno. Sæm staggered back, his illusions shattering around him. His eyes widened, shaken but not defeated.

“This isn’t over,” Sæm whispered, his voice dripping with menace as Lhuys charged toward him. The tension crackled in the air as Lhuys prepared to unleash his strength in a brutal attack. But just as the moment was about to erupt into chaos, Skye’s illusions swirled around them, creating a shimmering barrier that shielded the audience from the gruesome scene. The horror of the moment faded into a dreamlike haze, leaving only the tension behind.

Lhuys stood tall, his chest heaving as he regained his composure, the glowing red markings on his body slowly dimming as the threat from Sæm began to recede. His fierce determination remained evident in his stance, a silent promise to protect those he cared for. Meanwhile, Reeno, now free from Sæm’s control, remained frozen in place, his expression blank and doll-like, caught between the aftermath of the battle and the unfolding reality.

As the dust settled, the atmosphere in the tent shifted. The flickering lights cast long shadows, and the audience sat in breathless anticipation, their hearts pounding in sync with the haunting melody that Skye continued to weave through the air. It felt as if time stood still, each heartbeat echoing the tension that hung in the air.

Finally, as the last echoes of the battle faded, Xopher’s voice rose above the silence. His tone was soft yet powerful, drawing everyone’s attention. “In the face of darkness, true strength reveals itself,” he declared, his words wrapping around the audience like a warm embrace. “Even when shadows loom, the light persists, and bonds forged in fire remain unbroken.”

With Xopher’s narration, the scene felt alive with possibilities, each character’s fate intertwined in a delicate dance of light and shadow. The audience could sense that the story was far from over, their curiosity ignited by the promise of what lay ahead.

The audience erupted into applause, their cheers echoing through the tent like thunder as the performers took their bows. But the story was far from over. In the Circus of Strayed Souls, the shadows always loomed, waiting for the next act to begin.

Xopher sprang into action, darting toward the audience with an infectious energy. “Now, it’s time to have a taste of their illusion,” he called out, enticing the crowd to experience their real charm. His voice was smooth and inviting as he leaned in closer, whispering, “Harvest time, kiddos,” signalling his troupe to prepare for the next phase of their dark performance.

With a graceful swing, Felice soared above the audience, pouring shimmering star glitter from his hands. The glitter sparkled like tiny constellations, captivating everyone below. As the magical particles danced in the air, those who touched them found themselves drawn deeper into Felice's enchanting illusion. But what started as joy began to twist into something darker. The world of light he had created slowly began to fade, shadows creeping in as confusion and fear seeped into their hearts.

Suddenly, the vibrant colours of the circus darkened, revealing the true nature of the illusion. The audience realized too late that they were trapped in Felice’s web of enchantment. Panic rippled through the crowd, but their fear only fueled Felice’s power.

With each heartbeat, Felice began to consume their souls, feeding off the joy and happiness he had lured them with. As their laughter faded, the air grew heavy with dread. His victims, disoriented and unable to distinguish between reality and the fantasy he crafted, felt their emotions draining away. The blissful euphoria they had experienced now felt like a cruel joke.

Felice’s eyes glimmered with a sinister delight as he siphoned their essence. With each breath, he drew in their souls, leaving them as empty, hollow shells. The vibrant life that once filled their spirits was replaced by a chilling void. The once lively tent fell silent, the only sound being the soft rustle of Felice’s glittering trail, marking the place where joy had once resided.

And through it all, Xopher watched from the shadows, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Welcome to the true essence of the Circus of Strayed Souls,” he proclaimed, his voice resonating through the tent, filled with both pride and foreboding. “Here, the line between joy and despair blurs, and every soul becomes part of our grand tapestry.”

Pietro opened his eyepatch, revealing a swirl of colours that captured the unspoken desires of his targets. With a flicker of his power, he shapeshifted, becoming the living embodiment of their dreams. As he drew closer, feeding on their emotional vulnerability, his victims began to hollow out, their souls consumed by the very things they longed for.

Lhuys stood at the entrance, blocking the way out and keeping the audience trapped inside the grand tent. His dead stare was both alluring and terrifying, seducing them into submission as they held his gaze.

Reeno loomed over the audience like a dark cloud, suffocating and amplifying their feelings of loneliness and despair. He moved silently among them, his detached gaze watching as life drained from each victim, leaving only emptiness behind.

As the chaos unfolded in the tent, Sæm took charge, spinning intricate spider webs that shimmered in the dim light. Each strand glistened like silver silk, gliding through the air to ensnare unsuspecting audience members. The webs tugged at their minds, drawing them closer to Sæm’s wicked charm. His smirk grew wider with each capture, revelling in the control he wielded over their fate.

B♠p sat at the grand piano, his pale fingers dancing across the keys. He played a haunting melody that resonated through the air, a captivating sound that drew the audience deeper into a trance. Each note reverberated through their very souls, tugging at their emotions and guiding them toward Sæm’s webs. As the music flowed, it acted like strings, allowing him to manipulate the captured victims as if they were marionettes in a grand performance. The soft yet eerie tones harmonized perfectly with Sæm’s silken strands, creating a chilling symphony of control.

Skye, standing slightly behind, added another layer to their strategy. His voice rose above the music, weaving lyrics that wrapped around the audience like a soft, intoxicating embrace. Each word he sang held a command, and the audience found themselves compelled to act out the very things Skye envisioned. “Step closer, let the darkness in,” he crooned, and they obeyed, moving in sync with the melody, drawn to the shimmering webs like moths to a flame.

As the three worked in tandem, a mesmerizing dance unfolded on the stage. Sæm’s webs ensnared the audience, their movements growing more sluggish as they struggled against the invisible bonds. B♠p’s piano played with urgency, every note intensifying the atmosphere, urging the audience further into their trap. And Skye’s enchanting lyrics flowed like a river, guiding their actions with a haunting clarity. “Embrace the night, let go of fear,” he sang, and one by one, the audience surrendered, their faces a mix of awe and confusion.

In this intricate dance of illusion and control, Sæm, Skye, and B♠p showcased their unique strengths, blending their powers into a seamless performance. The audience was caught in a web of enchantment, their desires and fears entwined in a spell they could not break. Together, the trio orchestrated a masterful display of domination, leaving the audience powerless against their dark allure.

As the last notes echoed through the tent, the energy shifted. The captured souls stood mesmerized, their eyes glazed and unseeing, awaiting their fate. The atmosphere buzzed with tension and anticipation as Sæm, Skye, and B♠p prepared for the final step in their sinister harvest.

One by one, as each audience member's soul was drained, they became nothing more than empty shells, their life force extinguished. Finally, Xopher stepped forward, his commanding presence filling the stage. With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his hand and flicked a card between his fingers. A sharp sound cut through the air—a silent command. In an instant, all the empty bodies crumbled to ash, like the card that burned in his grasp—a haunting reminder of the souls that had once inhabited them.

“Good job, kiddos,” Xopher said, a satisfied grin on his face as he clapped, the sound echoing in the now-silent tent.

Chapter Text

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Night after night, performance after performance. The tent flaps closed as the midnight audience drifted into the ashes, their souls consumed. But tonight, the usual triumph felt hollow. In the cool midnight air, the circus members stood in uneasy silence, their breaths misting in the darkness.

The troupe had always considered the circus their sanctuary—a place where they could escape the past, the darkness within, and become something powerful. But tonight, unspoken tensions simmered between them like a storm on the verge of breaking. Secrets lurked, old resentments stirred, and a strange, heavy silence seemed to press down on them.

Pietro was the first to break it. His open eye glinted with mischief as he leaned toward his twin brother, Felice. “Have you ever wondered about Xopher?” he whispered, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “He’s so… guarded.”

Felice looked up, a spark of curiosity lighting his freckled face. “Of course, I have,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “He’s all charm and mystery, but I bet he’s hiding something. Something big.”

Pietro leaned in conspiratorially, his eyes narrowing. “What if we found out? He’s always watching us, always in control... but I want to know what’s behind his scar.”

A faint smirk tugged at the edges of Felice's mouth, but in his eyes, there was something darker—a hint of a long-held resentment, a desire to unmask the power that held sway over them all. He usually the first to shy away from trouble, felt the allure tugging at him.

“Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.” Skye’s smooth voice cut in, startling them as he drifted closer, his usual playful expression now edged with curiosity. “But...” he hesitated, “I can’t deny I’m curious too.” A small, wicked smile danced on his lips, but his fingers twitched, betraying a hint of hesitation.

One by one, the others gravitated toward the trio, drawn in by the forbidden promise of knowing more about Xopher. Lhuys crossed his arms, his muscles tensing. “If you’re in, then so am I. Xopher knows too much about us, and we know almost nothing about him.” His tone was steady, but a flicker of doubt crossed his face. “But do you think Xopher’s just going to let us sneak around and uncover his secrets?”

“Maybe not,” Skye replied, his menacing attitude sparking, “but isn’t that part of the fun?”

Reeno, the stoic protector, narrowed his eyes. He wanted to believe in Xopher, yet this secrecy unsettled him. “Xopher won’t take kindly to prying. He’s earned our respect, and he’s trusted us with his past... or at least the parts he wanted us to know.” His voice softened. “This could backfire.”

“Trouble, backfire, but we’re curious,” Pietro said defiantly, his hand brushing the eyepatch he wore over one eye. “There are answers in that tent of his.”

Sæm, swayed nearby, a smirk playing on his lips."Flame is a captivating thing. Gentle enough to warm," Sæm’s lips curved into a sly smile, "Dangerous enough to hold. It’ll consume you—leave nothing but ashes."

The circle grew tighter, the whispers darker. B♠p, sitting near his piano, looked up from the keys, his usually quiet demeanour faltering. “Let’s make this quick. The last thing we want is to find ourselves on the receiving end of Xopher’s wrath.”

Felice feels torn between his innocence and loyalty to Xopher. But he followed his heart, driven by adrenaline to unveil the secret, even though it probably ended with disaster.

Xopher was a shadow in their lives, always seeming to appear when least expected, his eyes sharp and watchful. The idea of sneaking into his tent felt like poking a wide-awake beast—but that was exactly what made it so thrilling. Because they all know that he never rests.

“Xopher’s not like the rest of us,” Reeno murmured. “There’s a darkness in him… something grander than what we can bring to this circus.” He looked uneasy as he glanced toward Xopher’s tent.

“Well, here's the plan”, Pietro broke their uncertainty. They exchanged glances, a shared thrill passing through them. Their plan took shape quickly, and every detail was calculated to distract and misdirect.

But a thrill pulsed through them, and none turned back. They nodded in silent agreement, each feeling a shared thrill of forbidden knowledge, the pulse of long-suppressed questions coming to the surface.

“Ready?” Pietro asked, his voice low and daring. He looked at each one of them, his grin laced with defiance. They nodded, and with a final glance toward Xopher’s tent, the group split off, each moving to their assigned positions with silent precision.

Lhuys didn’t hesitate. In one swift motion, he tipped over a stack of crates, the thunderous crash echoing through the grounds. He let out a loud curse, his voice rising in mock outrage, adding to the commotion.

As they had hoped, Xopher stepped out of his tent. His stillness was unnerving, his gaze sharp as it cut through the darkness. “Well, well, well, well,” he said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge.

“Sorry, got a bit carried away,” Lhuys replied with a grin, his voice casual. “Can we talk for a moment?”

As Xopher nodded and turned his attention to Lhuys, the rest of the troupe crept toward his tent. The thick curtain over the entrance seemed to ripple, even though the air was still. They exchanged glances, each feeling the heavy sense of trespassing as they stepped inside.

The tent was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of vanilla candles. Strange relics, cryptic codex, eerie artifacts, and dark trinkets that seemed to whisper secrets of their own. A lone, tattered journal lay on a table at the centre of the room, bound in cracked leather and covered in strange symbols.

Pietro reached out, his fingers trembling slightly. Felice grabbed his arm. “Wait,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “What if it’s… dangerous?”

“Only one way to find out,” Pietro replied, brushing him off as he flipped open the journal. His fingers traced the faint writing, the ink shimmering as though it resisted his gaze. The symbols seemed alive, taunting him with secrets he was too eager to reveal.

Sæm leaned in, his breath catching as he read aloud a phrase scrawled across the page: “The shadows that haunt… the souls that bind.”

The words hung heavy in the air, chilling them all.

Suddenly, Xopher’s voice rang out, calm but deadly, slicing through their thoughts. “I don’t recall inviting guests tonight.” He stood at the entrance, his figure shrouded in shadow. His eyes held a dark amusement, a faint smirk on his lips that made them all freeze in place. His eyes moved from one of them to the next, taking in the scene with a calm that was more terrifying than anger.

“So, tell me what brings you all here?” His voice was smooth, almost amused, yet it carried a dark edge that sent shivers down their spines.

Felice tried to muster a smile, but his voice wavered. “We just… wanted to know more about you, Xopher. We… we didn’t mean any harm. We were just curious.”

Xopher’s lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. “Curiosity has a cost, Felice. You know that?”

He stepped closer, his gaze flicking between them. “Tell me,” he continued, his voice a velvet snare, “do any of you truly understand what you’re asking for?”

Silence fell as their earlier resolve crumbled under Xopher’s scrutiny. He circled them, his steps slow and measured like a predator. Each step made their breaths catch, his shadow flickering over each of them in turn, exposing their secrets and hidden fears. Felice shivered under his gaze, feeling the weight of something he wasn’t prepared to face.

“We’re a family, aren’t we?” B♠p said softly, though he seemed to shrink under Xopher’s gaze.

Xopher’s expression darkened, his eyes cold and mocking. “A family, is it?” His tone dripped with disdain. “A family trusts blindly.”

Skye tried to intervene, his face softening. “We just want to understand. You’ve given us a home here, and we trust you. But trust goes both ways.”

Sæm stepped forward, his voice a defiant rumble. “You keep us all under your watch, Xopher. How can we keep our trust in you if we know nothing about you?”

Reeno interjected, his tone measured. “Perhaps we were wrong, but we’re more than just performers to you. If you can’t share your past with us, then what are we doing here?”

Pietro’s hand clenched, his face twisting in anger and hurt. “We deserve to know who you really are, Xopher. You can’t keep us in the dark forever… Unless you think we’re just pieces in your game.”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, Xopher’s face betrayed a flash of something raw, something vulnerable. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by an icy calm.

“Careful with your words, Pietro,” he said softly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

Pietro’s voice shook with defiance, though his gaze flickered with hurt. “I’m done with your games.”

In the tense silence that followed, Pietro’s words felt like a break in something unspoken. He turned and stormed out, his footsteps echoing in the night, leaving Xopher’s tent. The others watched in silence, caught between fear and admiration for his defiance. But what none of them saw was the flicker of pain in Xopher’s eyes as he watched his troupe fall apart.

Skye stepped forward, trying to ease the tension. “Pietro, don’t go. You belong here. We’re a family, and Xopher’s given us a home—a family.” But the plea sounded hollow, even to him.

With a flick of his wrist, Pietro threw the ddakji directly at Skye. The small, neatly folded square paper sailed through the air before landing with a sharp smack against Skye’s forehead.

Pietro smirked, though there was no humour in it. His voice was low, edged with sarcasm. “I thought you were better than this, Skye. I thought you could think for yourself.”

The tension between them crackled, and Skye’s expression shifted from anger to something deeper—hurt. He’d always thought of Pietro as someone who understood him, someone who also valued his free spirit and saw the individuality in everyone within their troupe. But now Pietro’s words cut through that, leaving Skye questioning if they’d ever truly understood each other.

The troupe burst out from Xopher’s tent and watched in silence as Pietro disappeared into the shadows, his silhouette swallowed by the fog. As the last of his steps faded, a sombre silence settled over the group. None of them dared to speak, too shaken by the suddenness of the conflict, the finality of Pietro’s departure.

But what they didn’t know, what none of them could see, was the figure that trailed quietly in the shadows, watching Pietro’s every step. Xopher had let him go… but he would never truly let him out of his sight.

Chapter Text

Background music

The dawn breaks with Pietro's departure. The troupe continues their activities with a dampness in their hearts. The air feels heavy with the feeling of his absence. They missed him already but respected his decision. 

Lhuys stood nearby, clenching and unclenching his fists. The muscles in his forearms were tense. His eyes, usually full of energy, were now dull and vacant, mirroring the lifeless sky above.

Xopher emerged behind Lhuys and stated, "We've caught a lot of souls lately. It'll be enough for a couple of weeks without a performance. Let's take a break. You can do whatever you want, but be careful. Don't get too caught up in the outside world. I'll be in my tent if you need me." Lhuys nodded and walked away toward his tent, his footsteps heavy with unspoken thoughts. 

Xopher remained standing in the clearing. His face was as calm and unreadable as ever, a mask of quiet authority. He spoke again, his voice low but deliberate, "Spread it to others, please." His tone carried a quiet weight, acknowledging Sæm’s presence without looking at him. “Thanks.”

Sæm froze, startled. He hung silently. His fingers were gripping the webbing tightly. He was an expert at staying unseen, blending into the shadows like a wisp of forgotten thought. The realization that Xopher knew exactly where he was, without glancing upward, sent a shiver down his spine—that eerie precision.

After a moment, with a resigned sigh, Sæm lowered himself gracefully from his perch. He landed without a sound on the damp earth. He had orders to relay, but his curiosity about Xopher had deepened. Sæm decided, for now, he’d obey. But the questions about Xopher lingered in his mind, sticky like the threads he left behind.

Sæm approached the others. Reeno and Skye, who were usually bickering, sat close together. Nearby, Felice clung to B♠p, his face streaked with tears. B♠p held him firmly, his calm presence offering comfort.

“Poor little heart,” Sæm said, glancing at Felice. Reeno looked up, expression blank. Skye kept his focus on Felice, gently rubbing Felice’s back. B♠p looked at Sæm with a sad expression. “Spit it out, Sæm.”

“Xopher says we’re taking a break,” Sæm announced. “Do whatever you want, but be careful. We’re still bound to this place.” His tone was firm, with no room for argument.

No one responded, but they all seemed to understand. Slowly, they began to drift away. Reeno and Skye exchanged a glance before going their separate ways, unusually quiet. B♠p carefully let go of Felice and walked off toward the supply tent. Felice stayed behind for a moment, staring at the ground, before getting up and wandering into the mist.

On the outskirts of the city, Pietro walked slowly through the early dawn. His steps are heavy with doubt. The cool mist clung to him as if trying to pull him back. But he kept moving forward.

Ahead, the city loomed, buildings rising out from the fog. He told himself it was a fresh start. A chance to be someone new. Maybe, just maybe, he could even become human again. He desperately hoped he wouldn’t have to keep consuming souls.

As Pietro stepped into the city, his heart raced. The streets buzzed with noise and movement. Vendors shouting to sell their goods, and carts rattling over cobblestones. The smell of fresh bread and roasting meat filled the air. So different from the sharp, metallic scent of the circus.

Pietro navigated the bustling streets, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for any sign of recognition or fear. But no one seemed to notice him. They were all caught up in their own thoughts.

He turned into a narrow alley, trying to escape from the overwhelming noise and sights. Almost got a panic attack. Fortunately, the alley was quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of the city. The sun barely touched the space between the tall buildings. Leaning against a cool brick wall, he took a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling his lungs.

A sudden, eerie melody began to play. The tune he knew all too well, a haunting lullaby that had once lured many souls into the Circus of Strayed Souls. The music seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, echoing down the alley.

"B-B♠p?" He followed the sound, which led him to a shop that sells Halloween-themed decorations. The exterior was covered by eerie decorations, fake cobwebs, and an array of costumes that seemed to stare at him with lifeless eyes. The haunting melody grew louder, and Pietro's gaze was drawn to a peculiar porcelain doll with freckles in the corner of the display. Reminds him of Felice.

“Seems like I missed them already,” Pietro muttered under his breath. He slowly got calm as he leaned back against the wall of that shop. The faint strains of music from inside the shop wrapped around him, a comforting melody that reminded him of the circus. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, letting the tune ease the tension in his chest.

Suddenly, a little boy ran closer and crouched in front of him, and began to clean his boots. Pietro blinked in confusion, unsure of what the boy was doing.

“Thank you,” Pietro said hesitantly, his voice uncertain.

The boy stopped scrubbing and glared up at him, scowling. “Your thank you can’t fill my empty stomach!” he yelled. “Give me a penny!” He thrust out his hand, waiting for payment.

Pietro froze, his mind scrambling. He didn’t have any money. He’d forgotten what it was like to need it. “I…I don’t have a penny,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy’s face twisted with frustration. “Then give me your fancy hat!” he demanded, reaching toward Pietro’s head.

Fear shot through Pietro like lightning. This was the first time in ages, someone had threatened him. His instincts kicked in, and he stumbled back, heart pounding. In his panic, he knocked into the shop display behind him. The sound of shattering glass filled the air as a porcelain doll tumbled down from the shelf and hit the ground, breaking into pieces. Pietro froze, wide-eyed, as the shopkeeper stormed out, shouting angrily.

“What the hell are you doing?!” The shopkeeper looks furious.

Pietro didn’t wait to find out what would happen next. His body moved before his mind could think, and he bolted, running blindly through the bustling street. The boy’s angry shouts and the shopkeeper’s furious voice faded behind him.

As Pietro darted away, his heart was hammering in his chest. He barely noticed where he was going. He weaved through the crowded street. His thoughts were a chaotic blur of panic. Out of the sudden, he slammed into something solid. Staggering back, he looked up—and froze.

A massive man stood over him, his arms crossed like tree trunks. Dressed in a tight black vest, the man had the unmistakable look of a bouncer, outside a rowdy tavern. He smirked as he looked down at Pietro.

“Well, well,” the man said, his voice deep and rough. “You look lost, little squirrel.”

Pietro stammered, raising his hands defensively. “S-sorry, it was an accident!” He glanced around desperately, realizing that a small crowd was beginning to gather, curious to see what was happening.

The bouncer leaned closer, his shadow swallowing Pietro. “I don’t like accidents. Makes me think someone’s not careful. Or maybe...someone’s looking for trouble.”

Pietro shook his head quickly, trying to back away, but the shopkeeper’s angry shouts were still ringing out behind him. He was trapped between two bad choices. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs felt frozen in place as the bouncer’s sharp eyes locked onto him.

"Please... I don't want to use my power," Pietro said, his voice trembling. Pietro’s heart pounded, adrenaline flooding his veins. His hand hovered over his eye patch.

The bouncer sneered, stepping closer. "Show me what you got, little squirrel."

Without another word, Pietro ripped the eye patch away. The air seemed still as Pietro’s hidden eye shimmered—an otherworldly, mirror-like orb that pulsed with eerie light. The crowd gasped, and the bouncer’s smirk faltered, his bravado melting into confusion.

Pietro’s gaze locked onto him, piercing through layers of arrogance and fear. He saw the bouncer’s deepest desire—a world where he was invincible, powerful, and untouchable. The vision came to life in the bouncer’s mind, so vivid it felt real.

"Come closer," Pietro whispered, his voice low and hypnotic. The bouncer staggered forward, his glazed eyes reflecting the dream Pietro wove—a twisted version of his fantasies that pulled him deeper.

Pietro accidentally dragged the entire crowd into his illusion as well. Unable to look away from Pietro’s gleaming eye, they are all hypnotized. This drastically consumes Pietro's power.

A faint sound of a police whistle broke the spell, and Pietro stumbled back into the crowd, his power fading as he fled.

Police officers shouted in the distance, causing the crowd to scatter in panic. Pietro, drained from using so much of his power, quickly turned and ran. But he felt a sharp pain in his leg—he’d been shot.

Despite the injury, he pushed forward, making his way into an abandoned bakery. He collapsed behind the counter. His breath ragged, the weight of his power usage settling in. He had escaped, but the cost had been high.

"Fuck..." Pietro cursed as pain surged through him. Blood poured from his leg, but it wasn't red. Instead, a glittery purple liquid spilled from the wound. His vision blurred, and everything around him spun.

His body gave out. He collapsed to the floor, his head hitting the cold ground. The purple liquid spread around him, and his eyelids grew heavy.

Then, everything went black.

After a while, Pietro stirred, groggy and confused. He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his mind. As his vision slowly came into focus, he thought he saw a shadow flicker in the corner of his eye. It moved quickly, vanishing before he could fully make it out.

His heart raced, and he turned his head, but there was nothing there. The shadow was gone, leaving only the silence of the abandoned bakery. Pietro’s breath came out in a shaky sigh as he pushed himself up, still unsure if it was real or just his mind playing tricks on him.

Pietro’s leg throbbed, but the wound was no longer oozing the glittering purple liquid. He breathed a sigh of relief, though it was tinged with frustration.

"Guess I can't die twice," he muttered sarcastically to himself. He glanced around the dimly lit bakery, trying to make sense of everything. The adrenaline from earlier hadn't fully worn off. But for now, at least, he was alive.

Pietro was starving, but it wasn’t hunger for food. He used his power to make the feeling worse. His body felt weak, but it wasn’t from the blood loss—it was from the emptiness inside him, the craving he couldn’t ignore.

Pietro clenched his fists, "Shit, it’s been a while," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "I won’t consume souls anymore. I’m done. I’d stop being a monster."

The words felt hollow, but he said them anyway as if trying to convince himself. The hunger was there, relentless, but he refused to give in. He wouldn’t let himself slip back into that darkness, no matter how much it tempted him.

Pietro pushed himself up, his body still weak, and stumbled around the abandoned bakery, searching for something—anything—that could fill the emptiness inside him. But the shelves were bare, as expected. He stepped outside and started rummaging through the trash can in front of the bakery, hoping for something edible.

Suddenly, a warm hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey..." a soft voice whispered.

Startled, Pietro spun around, his heart racing. For a moment, he thought it was his twin, Felice. But instead, he saw a young woman in her mid-twenties standing there. She had a calm expression, her eyes kind but hard to read.

"Are you looking for something?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Pietro backed up so quickly.

"Hey, hey... It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I... I want to help," she reassured him, her tone soft and calm. Made him hesitate.

"Oderaa," she said, extending her hand and offering a handshake.

Just as Pietro was about to take her hand, she gently placed a warm bread into Pietro's hand. "Your hand is so cold," she said softly. "I hope it helps."

Pietro was stunned by her kindness. It was rare for anyone outside the circus to treat him this way. He stared at the bread in his hand, momentarily speechless.

"You can't speak? Can you understand me?" she asked gently, tilting her head in curiosity.

Realizing he hadn't said a word, Pietro quickly snapped out of his daze. "Umm... yeah. Thanks," he replied, his voice quiet and a bit hoarse.

"Are you okay? I saw you stumble," she said, her tone filled with concern. Before Pietro could respond, she crouched in front of him, her eyes scanning him intently.

"Let me see. I'm a nurse," she added, already searching for any visible injuries.

"I got shot here," Pietro said, gesturing to his leg.

She leaned closer, expecting to see a wound, but she only found smooth, unbroken skin. The only evidence was the hole in his pants.

She puzzled, "Shot? But... there's nothing there."

Pietro forced a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh... maybe it was just a dream? Hehe..." His awkwardness was painfully obvious.

Oderaa tilted her head, confused, knitting her brows. "But there's a hole in your pants. Like... a bullet hole." She pointed at it, her eyes searching his face for an explanation.

Pietro shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of a way to change the subject. "Maybe I tripped or something... happens all the time."

"You're weird," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"One of a kind," Pietro replied with a sly smirk, trying to brush off the tension.

"Fine, whatever," she said with a shrug. "But I need to go. Take care of yourself, umm..."

"Pietro," he offered, his voice soft but steady.

"See you around, Pietro," she replied, flashing a quick smile before turning and disappearing down the alley.

As she vanished around the corner, Pietro took a bite of the bread. The aroma was inviting, warm, and comforting. But the moment it touched his tongue, his expression soured.

"Blegh!" he spat out in disgust. As he’d expected, human food no longer brought him any joy.

He threw the bread away, letting the pigeons peck at it. Started wandering through the city, his mind clouded with hunger. He needed something—anything—to satisfy the emptiness inside him, but not a soul. He couldn’t go back to that. His steps were aimless, his eyes scanning the streets for anything that could offer relief. The city felt colder tonight, the shadows stretching longer as if mocking his struggle.

Pietro’s legs felt heavier with each step, the exhaustion weighing him down in a way he’d never experienced before. The city, usually buzzing with energy at night, seemed distant, indifferent to his struggle. Normally, the darkness fueled him, but tonight, it felt like the night itself was draining him, leaving him weak and vulnerable. He stopped for a moment, leaning against a streetlamp, trying to catch his breath.

Just as Pietro's legs gave way, Felice appeared out of nowhere, catching him before he collapsed and hit the ground.

"Pietro, what’s happened to you?" Felice asked, his voice filled with concern as he supported his twin, his grip firm yet gentle.

Pietro, barely able to stand, looked up at Felice, his breath shallow. "I... I don’t know. I feel... different. Weak."

Felice frowned, his brow furrowing as he scanned Pietro’s face. "Did you overuse your power?"

Pietro nodded. "I needed to. To protect myself."

Felice's hands remained on Pietro, warm and reassuring. "Let’s get back to the circus. Everyone’s worried about you. We missed you."

But Pietro shook his head. He was done with the cruelty. "I can’t... I don’t want to go back. I want to be human again."

"But the circus is our home. We don’t belong to this world anymore," Felice tried to convince his twin.

"We never belonged anywhere, Felice!" Pietro snapped, his voice shaking with frustration.

"But at least we have each other. Like twins should, right?" Felice bargained, his tone softer, desperate for understanding.

"WE’RE NOT EVEN REAL TWINS!!!" Pietro shouted, his voice cracking as the words tore from him.

Felice flinched, his wide eyes brimming with hurt. "How… how can you say that?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Pietro’s chest heaved, anger and frustration battling guilt within him. "Because it’s the truth! I made up everything!" His words were harsh, but his tone faltered as he saw Felice’s expression crumble. A tear slipped down his cheek as he turned and walked away.

"Felice, wait!" Pietro called after him, but it was too late. Felice disappeared into the mist, leaving Pietro alone with the weight of his words. Guilt crashed over him like a wave. He cursed under his breath, punching a nearby wall. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" 

Later, Pietro lay on the cold rooftop of the abandoned bakery, staring at the stars above. The night was quiet, but his mind wasn’t. He let out a slow breath, his chest heavy with guilt and hunger. Felice’s hurt face kept flashing in his thoughts, along with the ache in his body and the life he no longer wanted to live.

He forced himself to focus on the stars, hoping they’d distract him. Maybe somewhere out there, he thought, was an answer to everything—a way out of the mess he was in.

Pietro’s eyelids grew heavy as exhaustion finally took over. The cold rooftop, the guilt, and the hunger all faded as he slipped into the dream world, his breathing steadying with each passing moment.

In the shadows nearby, a dark figure lingered silently, watching over him. It stayed at a distance, its presence neither threatening nor comforting, but always there—like a guardian no one asked for.

======================================================================

Pietro jolted awake, raindrops hitting his face like icy needles. Blinking up at the cloudy sky, he realized it had started to rain. The once peaceful rooftop now felt harsh and unwelcoming as the drizzle quickly turned into a steady downpour.

"Great," he muttered, wiping his face and sitting up. His clothes clinging to him, and the chill seeped into his skin. With a sigh, Pietro stood, his body stiff and aching.

Pietro hurried back inside to escape the rain. As he stepped onto the stairs, his foot slipped on the wet surface. "Ah, damn it!" He lost his balance and tumbled down, hitting the stairs hard. By the time he reached the bottom, pain was shooting through his body. Pain surged through him, sharp and unyielding. A deep gash split his leg, blood oozing from the wound.

"Just great," he hissed, wincing as he tried to move. His body felt heavy, and his leg wouldn’t cooperate, leaving him lying helpless at the base of the stairs.

But this time, the wound didn’t close as quickly as before. The blood kept seeping out, and his leg throbbed with every movement. Pietro trembled with frustration and confusion building.

He thought back to the girl from earlier—Oderaa. Her kindness was unexpected, and maybe, just maybe, she could help him now.

Dragging himself across the dusty floor, he winced with each pull of his injured leg. Reaching the nearest boarded-up window, he propped himself up just enough to peer outside, hoping to see her walking by.

Time crawled. The rain only grew heavier, pounding against the roof in rhythmic torment. Pietro's patience thinned, the cold seeping into his bones as he waited, his gaze fixed on the wet, empty street outside.

Just as he was about to give up, he spotted a figure under a red umbrella walking briskly along the sidewalk. The faint glow of a street lamp illuminated her face—Oderaa.

Pietro’s heart leapt, a mix of relief and urgency flooding him. He mustered his remaining strength and banged weakly on the boarded window, his voice hoarse.

“Oderaa, help!” he called out, almost drowned by the storm.

Oderaa turned sharply, scanning the street for the source of the faint voice. Her eyes landed on the boarded-up window where Pietro’s pale, rain-soaked face appeared between the gaps.

Without hesitation, she rushed toward the entrance of the abandoned bakery, her boots splashing through puddles as the rain drenched her coat. She pushed open the creaky door, her umbrella left forgotten outside, and hurried inside, calling out.

"P-Pietro? Why are you here?" Oderaa's eyes widened as she spotted Pietro slumped on an old table near the boarded-up window. She rushed over, her breath catching as she noticed the long, open wound on his leg. "It should’ve healed," Pietro muttered weakly. 

Oderaa froze, her eyes fixed on the glittering purple liquid seeping from Pietro’s wound. Her hands trembled, and she instinctively took a step back. "What... is this? Are you human?" she whispered, her voice laced with fear.

Pietro avoided her gaze, his expression unreadable. "If you’re going to run, do it now," he said, his voice hollow.

Every instinct screamed at her to leave, but something about Pietro—the exhaustion in his voice, the vulnerability in his posture—kept her rooted in place. Swallowing hard, she knelt beside him, her movements cautious. "I don’t know what you are," she said quietly, reaching for her first-aid kit, "but I can’t just leave you like this." Her hands trembled as she worked, but she forced herself to focus.

Watching her focus so intently on tending to his wound, Pietro fought a different pain. Hunger claws its way back to the surface. His gaze lingered on her, the thought creeping unbidden into his mind—her soul must taste exquisite.

Oderaa worked quickly, tying a bandage tightly around Pietro’s leg to stop the strange, glittering blood from flowing. Pietro screamed, the pain sharp and unbearable. "Hold still!" she said, her voice trembling but determined. "I know it hurts, but I need to stop the bleeding."

Pietro gritted his teeth, his nails digging into the wooden table. The pain was almost too much, but the real struggle was fighting the other hunger rising within him—the one that craved her soul.

Pietro’s grip on the table tightened, his knuckles white as he fought the overwhelming hunger. His trembling voice broke through the rain’s steady drumming. "I can’t... not again... I won’t," he murmured, barely audible, his breath shallow. "Maybe... it’s better this way... if I just..."

Oderaa glanced up sharply, then continued her frantic efforts to stop the bleeding. "What are you even talking about?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with urgency. She pressed harder against the wound, the makeshift bandage already soaked in that strange, glittering purple blood.

Pietro’s gaze was distant, his words spilling out in a broken whisper. "Monsters like me are not meant to live... This is punishment... what I deserve."

"Enough!" Oderaa snapped, startling him. She ripped fabric from her dress, reinforcing the bandage. "You are not dying here," she said firmly, her tone unwavering even as her hands trembled slightly. "Not on my watch. So stop talking nonsense and focus on staying alive!"

"I'm not even alive, young lady." his voice was barely his own. His eyes, once filled with pain, were now consumed by something darker, something hungry. "I'm sorry, but you need to go. Before I couldn’t control it. I don’t want to hurt you."

Oderaa’s hands froze as his voice dropped, cold and hollow, sending a chill down her spine. She could see the change in his eyes—darkening. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t pull away. She stood firm, her hands still pressing against his wound, despite the fear creeping into her veins. “No!” she said, her voice steady but unwavering. "I'm not leaving you like this. You can fight it. I know you can."

Pietro closed his eyes, the weight of his decision crashing down on him. The hunger clawed at his insides, but for the first time in a long while, he chose to let it take him. He let go of the fight. He let go of the will to survive. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hollow and distant. The pain, the hunger, it was all too much.

As his body grew limp, Oderaa’s hands frantically searched for a pulse. Her fingers pressed against his neck, against his wrist, but there was nothing. No heartbeat. No life.

“No... no, no, no!” she gasped, panic flooding her chest. She shook him, her voice shaking with fear. “Pietro! Please!” She could feel her heart pounding in her ears as she desperately tried to revive him, but there was nothing. The silence was deafening. The absence of a heartbeat was the loudest sound she’d ever heard.

A shadow moved silently through the darkness of the abandoned bakery, its presence almost imperceptible at first. Slowly, it took form, a dark figure stepping forward from the corner of the room where it had always lingered unseen. The figure’s voice was low, smooth, and ominous as it addressed Oderaa. "I can help him," it said, its tone calm and unsettling, "but you may leave, young lady."

Oderaa froze, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. She looked at the figure, then back at Pietro, still limp and unresponsive in her arms. The fear in her chest tightened. “Who... who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking, not sure if she could trust the stranger or if she even had a choice.

The figure didn’t answer immediately, its presence suffocating. The figure’s gaze drifted toward Pietro, who still lay motionless. The figure took a slow step forward, its movements unnervingly fluid. It loomed over Pietro, casting a long shadow across his body.

Oderaa felt a rush of fear but refused to back down. "I’m staying here!" she said, standing her ground. The figure's cold hand gently touched her chin. "I'm afraid you can't..." it whispered, its breath sending a chill down her spine.

Oderaa’s eyes widened as she stared into the figure’s eyes. Suddenly, her eyes turned white. Her body went limp, floating as if under a spell. She slowly lowered to a nearby table, unable to resist, unconscious.

The dark figure emerges to Pietro. His hand was hovering above Pietro’s forehead. A dim light flickered through his hand for a second. Only leaving a familiar scent of vanilla filled the air. Pietro suddenly gasped, catching up his breath, then whispering its name. "Xopher..."

With a soft, almost caring voice, Xopher said, "Let’s go home, kiddos."

Pietro felt the familiar warmth of Xopher’s arms as he was lifted effortlessly. Shadows trailing behind him as he carried Pietro out into the rain-drenched night. Back to the circus, their true home.

Chapter Text

Background music

Pietro stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He squinted, trying to figure out where he was. The familiar scent of daisies filled the tent. Beside him, Felice was fast asleep in a sitting position, his head gently resting at the edge of the bed. Felice's small fingers were clasped tightly around Pietro’s hand, as if unwilling to let go, even in his dreams.

“Welcome home,” Sæm’s voice broke the silence, descending from his web in the dark corner of the tent.

Pietro flinched, startled to find someone else there besides Felice. “You scared me.”

Sæm clicked his tongue mockingly. “You’re lucky I didn’t take you down while you were asleep.” His voice was soft but cutting.

Pietro frowned. “Since when do you hate me that much?” he asked, still trying to gather his bearings.

“Since you hurt Felice. Don’t act innocent.” Sæm’s gaze was sharp as a blade.

“I only told the truth,” Pietro defended himself.

Sæm didn’t reply with words. In one swift motion, he wrapped a thread around Pietro’s neck. The thread hung loosely. Just an empty threat rather than an attack. But enough to make Pietro freeze for a moment. “Sometimes it’s better to keep your mouth shut than to hurt an angel like Felice,” he whispered, venom dripping from every word, seeping into Pietro’s left ear.

“Another day, another drama,” B♠p’s voice broke the tension. He strolled in casually, ignoring both Sæm and Pietro. Instead, he carefully lifted the sleeping Felice into his arms. B♠p and Felice shared a similar build, but B♠p was strong enough to carry Felice, who was much lighter than him.

“You’re pretty messed up, Pietro,” B♠p said flatly, his back turned to them. He lay Felice down on another bed across the room, his hand brushing Felice's hair gently.

“Xopher must have told a dramatic story about me. He knows how to put it in a show.” Pietro said, his tone laced with mockery and a trace of frustration.

“I have many flaws, indeed. But lying isn’t one of them.” The voice came from outside the tent—Xopher’s. Moments later, he appeared without warning.

Pietro’s expression soured instantly. “Everyone’s an imposter on some level.”

Xopher stepped closer, his voice low and heavy. “If you don’t humble yourself, someone else will do it for you.” His words were both a warning and a threat—a double-edged sword. Yet deep down, he knew he could never truly let Pietro go or replace him. But that flicker of doubt was buried beneath his anger.

Without another word, Pietro yanked himself free from Sæm’s thread and strode out of the tent, stung with offence.

=============================================

Felice woke from his sleep, greeted by an intense atmosphere. B♠p quickly stepped forward and helped Felice to sit up. “I overheard some of it, in my sleep. He’s just being a crackhead as always. Don’t take it too deep,” Felice said, trying to ease the tension.

Felice fully understood the intention behind Xopher’s words. He gestured for the leader to sit beside him on the bed. “Can we have a moment, just the two of us?”

Without a word, Sæm and B♠p quietly left the tent. They didn’t need to hear Xopher’s answer, but they knew that Xopher had never once refused Felice’s request.

“Anything I can help with?” Xopher asked as he sat down beside Felice, his voice steady and calm, though his heart churned beneath the surface.

Felice looked deep into Xopher's eyes, trying to break through the unseen wall he always built around himself. “You’re the one who needs help, Xopher. Don’t bottle yourself up too much. You know you can always share with us—especially with me.” Felice's voice was gentle, the kind that always melted Xopher's defences. Xopher had a soft spot for Felice, and Felice knew it.

For a moment, Xopher could only stare back at Felice. There was something in Felice's gaze that made Xopher's walls crumble, like a sandcastle washed away by the tide. With a long exhale, Xopher finally gave in. “Fine. I admit, I do hold my grunt. The emotions within me will begin to rouse. I get so angry when things don’t go my way. What should I do?”

Felice brushed his hand gently over Xopher's shoulder. “That anger can sometimes turn into anxiety. But there's no need to be too afraid of it.” Felice's smile warmed the space between them, and he felt grateful that Xopher was finally opening up.

Xopher nodded slowly, his eyes dimming a little.  “Yeah, because anxiety is something we create ourselves,” he murmured. Even though he already knew that, he needed Felice’s words to validate what he felt.

Felice continued softly, “We believe that you will do great. If you can go beyond these emotions and open up more with us.” Felice's words wrapped around him like a warm embrace, giving him the reassurance he didn’t know he needed.

Xopher shook his head slightly, a faint, weary smile on his lips. “It won’t be easy at all.”

“That’s why we’re here. That’s why I’m here. Don’t ever doubt our loyalty.” Felice patted Xopher's back gently, offering strength to his leader.

A quiet warmth bloomed in Xopher’s chest. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly, before pulling Felice into an embrace. Felice's warmth seeped into Xopher's cold skin, and in that silent hug, comfort and understanding flowed between them—unspoken, but deeply felt.

Pietro sat alone in the storage tent, slumped over a cold wooden crate. A low groan escaped him. The one he’d been holding back for a while. His body was still weak, but he stubbornly hid it, unwilling to look fragile.

His mind wandered back to that moment. The day he was bleeding out in the ruins of an abandoned bakery. He knew it was Xopher who saved his life, yet his pride was too heavy to make peace with that truth. And after what Xopher had said earlier, he had even less desire to speak to him. Still, he knew his body was far too frail to run away again, even if his heart screamed for it.

But Pietro wasn’t the only one holding a grudge. Skye, who had been silently watching from afar, was still unwilling to forgive Pietro. His chest tightened every time he remembered how Pietro treated him before fleeing the circus.

“Chill, bruh. You look so tense,” Lhuys murmured teasingly beside Skye.

Skye shot him a sharp glare. “Ignore me. You'd better make sure that Pietro puts some distance.”

Lhuys grinned, barely suppressing a laugh. “Eh? Tell him yourself.” His tone dripped with mockery, as usual.

Their banter was cut short when Reeno stepped into the storage tent, his arms full of circus equipment. A moment later, the sound of things clattering to the ground broke the silence.

“You should be more careful,” Pietro said, moving to help him pick up the scattered gear.

Reeno turned to the voice. “Didn’t know you were here. Thanks.” Relief quietly flickered inside him at the sight of Pietro alive and well, though his face remained as stoic as ever.

Pietro offered a faint smile, helping Reeno return the props to their places. “I know you missed me. I can see it behind that stoic face of yours.” He gave a sly wink.

“Don’t get too cocky,” Reeno replied flatly, but he didn’t deny it.

Pietro’s grin widened. “We should go for a walk sometime. The world outside isn’t that bad.”

Reeno shook his head slowly. “No thanks. People would just stare at me like I’m some kind of fool. Besides, you’re still not stable. You should talk to Sæm about your condition. I’m sure he can help you recover faster.”

Pietro scoffed. “Why would I ask him? He nearly strangled me a minute ago.”

Reeno’s voice dropped low. “He… he knows a lot about the human body.”

Pietro frowned, curiosity glinting in his tired eyes. “Was he a doctor?”

Reeno hesitated, as if debating whether he should reveal more. “Er… something like that. You can ask him yourself.”

Suddenly, Pietro’s legs gave out. He stumbled, nearly collapsing. But Reeno caught him just in time, his grip firm yet careful.

“Let’s go see Sæm,” Reeno said softly, steadying him as they left the tent.

Their footsteps faded slowly into the distance, leaving behind nothing but flickering shadows swaying in the empty tent.

Reeno stepped hesitantly into the tent, supporting Pietro’s limp body as he tried to keep himself upright. Heavy curtains draped over the entrance, sealing them off from the cold, silent world outside. Inside, it felt like stepping into another realm altogether.

The air was thick with the hum of strange machinery. The room was cluttered with tools and odd contraptions that hissed faintly. In the centre stood a massive glass tube, glowing with a pulsating green light from the viscous liquid within. Bubbles drifted upward in slow motion, like shadowy serpents twisting toward the surface. Hanging lamps swayed gently above, casting flickering silhouettes of gears and wires along the tent’s canvas walls.

“This is sick,” Pietro muttered, eyes wide as he stared at the rows of small glass vials on the shelves. There was something both horrifying and fascinating about this place.

Their footsteps stopped when a soft voice greeted them. “What can I help you with, Ree—oh, hi, Pietro?” Sæm’s tone carried that familiar edge of irony; this was, after all, the first time Pietro had dared to step into his tent.

In the far corner, Sæm stood behind a table stacked with thick, weathered books. The candlelight flickered across his sharp, beautiful eyes, making them glint like polished obsidian.

“You need to check on him,” Reeno said curtly, easing Pietro down onto Sæm’s bed.

Sæm approached with a small, knowing smile. “I thought you’d never ask for my help, little squirrel,” he teased, his words wrapped in silk and sarcasm.

Pietro’s gaze flicked toward the large tube in the centre of the tent, curiosity and fear warring within him. “What the hell is that?” he finally asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Sæm’s smile faded. “Let’s just say it’s better left unsaid,” he murmured, turning his focus to examine Pietro without waiting for another question.

Pietro let out a weary sigh, his body surrendering to exhaustion. He lay back on the bed, allowing Sæm to inspect him. “Just give me a booster or something,” he mumbled, half in despair.

“A booster won’t do you any good. You need to consume a soul,” Sæm replied, his tone restrained but firm.

“I’m not doing that anymore. I quit. Isn’t there another way?” Pietro shot back stubbornly.

“Synthesizing souls into medicine or anything else is impossible,” Sæm snapped, his patience thinning. “Accept your fate. You chose this path yourself back then. You knew what it would cost.”

“That was a long time ago! I was young and immature!” Pietro’s voice rose with anger.

“YOU DON'T EVEN AGE ANYMORE SINCE YOU DIED ONCE!” Sæm’s shout echoed through the tent, shaking the hanging lamps.

Instinctively, Pietro’s hand flew up, ready to strike him. But Reeno caught his wrist just in time, holding him back. “Calm down. Don’t make it worse. Sæm’s your only hope. Or do you want to deal with Xopher instead?” he warned, trying to defuse the tension.

“My only hope?! Who the hell are you, huh? Some psychotic doctor? You gonna cut me open for your experiments?” Pietro barked, his anger spilling over.

Sæm scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not a doctor. I’m a scientist. And no—I don’t need new experiments. I already have one, and it turned out beautifully, didn’t it?” His gaze flicked toward Reeno, who stayed perfectly still, his face unreadable.

Pietro wrenched his arm free. “Guess everyone’s got skeletons in their closet. You’re all sick!” he spat, ready to storm off.

“We should talk about this,” Reeno said calmly. “We need to open up about our past lives. We can’t just keep trusting blindly.”

“So we can judge each other’s past sins? What a lovely little moment that’ll be,” Pietro retorted with biting sarcasm.

“Well, if you think that’s for the best, I’ll play along,” Sæm replied dryly, striding toward the exit without waiting for approval.

Reeno and Pietro exchanged a long, silent look before finally following him out, leaving the green light of the strange tent flickering behind them.