Chapter Text
The circus was quiet.
Not the gentle hush after a show, but the suffocating kind that pressed against your ribs and made every breath feel borrowed. The once-vibrant reds and yellows of the tent had bled away into washed-out grays, like an old photograph left too long in the sun. Only the jagged holes torn through the floor and walls still pulsed with faint, sickly streaks of purple light—glimpses into the endless, hungry Void below. The air tasted stale and metallic, carrying the faint static hum of a world barely holding itself together.
The cast stood scattered across the black-and-white checkered floor, their usual bright colors strangely vivid against the desaturation around them. No one spoke. The silence stretched, thick and brittle.
“…Are you sure?” Pomni’s voice came out small, almost lost in the vast emptiness. She hugged her arms to her chest, fingers digging into her sleeves as if trying to hold herself together.
Kinger stood a little apart from the group, the metal bucket still perched awkwardly on his head from the chaos of the previous day. He stared at his gloved hands, then at the ceiling, as if the answers might be written there.
“I… He was messing with the console while I was working,” Kinger stammered. “Before I could stop him… the floor just opened up and—” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what happened.”
Jax let out a single, hollow laugh that echoed unnaturally off the tent walls.
“That’s convenient.”
Pomni shot him a sharp look. “Jax.”
“What?” He whirled on the group, eyes wide with that familiar mix of anger and panic. “Are we all just supposed to forgive this?” He jabbed a finger at Kinger. “This guy single-handedly destroyed our last chance! Now we have nothing!”
Ragatha tried to step in, her voice trembling. “Jax, please… we’re all—”
But Jax was already moving, shoving Kinger’s shoulder with enough force to make the taller figure stagger. “Anything else you wanna tell us?!”
Kinger’s head tilted slightly. After a long pause, he spoke so softly it was almost a whisper:
“…Brain scans.”
The word landed like a stone in still water. Everyone froze.
Kinger explained in halting fragments—what he remembered from Caine’s code, the impossibly small files, Scratch’s failed experiments, the possibility that their real bodies and minds were still out there somewhere. That they weren’t placed here. They had been copied.
The revelation settled over them like frost. The purple glow from the Void holes seemed to dim, as if even the abyss was listening.
Ragatha’s breathing hitched. Her hands shook as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“I know…” she whispered at first. Then louder, voice fracturing: “I think I’ve always known.”
Her knees buckled. She sank to the cold floor, curling inward as sobs tore through her. The sound was raw, echoing painfully in the hollow space.
Pomni was beside her in an instant, dropping to her knees on the hard checkered tiles. She wrapped an arm around Ragatha’s shoulders, feeling the other woman tremble beneath the touch. Pomni’s own throat tightened, eyes burning with tears she fought to keep down.
“I know it hurts…” Pomni’s voice cracked despite her efforts. The weight of the past days—comforting everyone, holding the group together after the crushing disappointment of their reality—pressed heavier on her chest. “But we still have each other. We’re… we’re all in this together.”
She looked around desperately, hoping the words would land. They didn’t. Jax stared up at the ceiling, eyes glassy, before turning and walking away without another word. Gangle reached hesitantly for Zooble’s hand, but Zooble remained motionless, staring at nothing. Gangle’s ribbon-like form drooped; she let go and shuffled off, soft crying fading into the distance.
Kinger drifted toward one of the largest Void holes, his movements slow and mechanical.
Everyone was breaking. Everyone was leaving.
Pomni stayed kneeling beside Ragatha for a long moment, hand still on her back, until the silence became unbearable. She helped Ragatha as best she could, then stood on shaky legs. Her head throbbed. Her limbs felt leaden. She had been the steady one—the one who listened, who comforted, who tried to hold the fraying threads of their little family together ever since the failed escape attempt. No one had asked her to. She had simply become that person.
And now the threads were cutting into her palms.
——
Kinger stood at the edge of a massive tear in the floor, the purple abyss swirling lazily beneath. He extended one hand. A black rectangular plate materialized unsteadily in the air, shimmering with digital static before stretching to patch part of the hole. The edges fused with a low, crackling hum.
Pomni approached slowly, boots echoing softly against the floor. The air near the Void felt colder, pulling at her like invisible hands.
“Need any help?”
Kinger turned, the bucket tilting slightly. “Sure. If you wanna give it a try.”
She nodded, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breathing. The exhaustion from the last few days sat like stones behind her eyes. Still, she raised her right hand, focusing.
A tiny black triangle flickered into existence—glitching violently, edges fracturing like broken glass—before plummeting silently into the Void.
Pomni stared after it, her vision blurring. A weak, bitter laugh escaped her. “I really wanted to help…”
“You had a good start,” Kinger said gently, his voice muffled slightly by the metal bucket still perched on his head. It gave his words a faint, echoing quality, like speaking from the bottom of a well.
Pomni rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, pressing harder than necessary. The pressure sent faint sparks of static dancing across her vision — that familiar digital ache that never quite went away anymore. “I thought… if I could just get better at this… maybe I could fix things.” Her voice grew smaller, fragile in the vast emptiness of the tent. “Uplift everyone. Make it bearable again.” She let out a shaky breath that fogged faintly in the unnaturally chilled air near the Void. “Am I stupid for even trying?”
She looked out across the gray circus. The once-vibrant tent canvas hung limp and colorless, the checkerboard floor stretching out like an endless, faded chessboard. Purple light from the scattered holes pulsed weakly, casting long, sickly shadows that seemed to reach toward them.
“I keep thinking…” she murmured.
Kinger remained quiet for a long moment. The only sounds were the faint, distant hum of the circus’s broken code and the soft, almost imperceptible crackle of static in the air. Finally, he spoke.
“I don’t think anyone can fix everything.”
Pomni didn’t answer. The words settled over her like a weight, pressing against her chest until it felt hard to breathe. She could still feel Ragatha’s trembling shoulders under her arm from earlier, hear the echo of Jax’s bitter laugh, see Gangle’s ribbons trailing behind her as she fled.
Kinger continued, his tone gentle but grounded, the way it always got when fragments of his old self flickered through. “You know… out of everyone who’s come here… I don’t think anyone adjusted as quickly as you.”
Pomni blinked, turning to look at him. The bucket shifted slightly as he tilted his head.
“I was terrified,” she admitted softly.
“So was I.” He chuckled — a soft, sad little sound that didn’t quite reach full warmth. “But despite all that… you became someone everyone trusts.”
Pomni smiled. It was small and embarrassed, the corners of her mouth twitching upward even as her eyes stayed shadowed with exhaustion. “Really?”
“They look to you.” Kinger gestured slowly with one hand toward the desolate tent behind them. The motion was careful, almost reverent. “When things get difficult… they’ll need someone like that.”
Pomni followed his gesture. Ragatha sat alone against one distant wall, knees drawn up, staring at nothing. Gangle had disappeared into one of the shadowed hallways, her soft cries long since faded. Zooble stood motionless on a balcony overlooking the Void, their mismatched form rigid and distant. Jax was nowhere to be seen — probably off somewhere nursing his anger in silence.
They were all hurting.
Every single one of them.
The realization settled deep in Pomni’s core, a cold, heavy knot that made her shoulders ache and her head throb with that persistent, low-level static. She took another slow, deliberate breath, the air tasting faintly of ozone and emptiness.
“…Then I guess I’d better get stronger.”
She lifted her hand again. This time she concentrated harder, jaw tightening, fingers trembling with the effort. A small black circle flickered into existence above the Void crack — trembling unsteadily, edges glitching faintly… but it held. For a few precious seconds it remained solid before flickering out with a soft pop.
Kinger nodded approvingly beneath the bucket. “There you go.”
Pomni smiled back — faint, automatic. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes. They looked duller now, ringed with the quiet strain of too many comforting words and not enough rest. Neither of them noticed how her hands continued to shake even after she lowered them, or how the vibrant reds and blues of her jester outfit seemed just a little more muted, the colors bleeding away like the rest of the circus.
She had decided, quietly and desperately, that she wasn’t allowed to fall apart.
Not yet.
Not when they all needed her to keep holding everything together.
Days passed.
Or maybe weeks.
Without Caine’s booming voice announcing absurd adventures or Bubble popping in to drag them along, time lost all meaning. The circus existed in a hazy, endless limbo — the kind where mornings bled into afternoons and nights never truly arrived, only a perpetual dim twilight that drained the last hints of color from everything. The static hum in the walls grew louder some days, softer on others, but it was always there, like a reminder that the world itself was fraying.
The Circus slowly began to heal.
——
The first few days were spent learning.
Kinger stood beside one of the larger tears in the circus floor, the metal bucket still perched on his head like a crooked crown. Faint purple light from the Void below cast shifting patterns across his form.
“Relax,” he reminded her softly.
Pomni inhaled slowly, the air cool and faintly metallic against the back of her throat. She tried to ignore the persistent ache behind her eyes.
“Don’t think about making the shape,” Kinger continued. “Think about what it needs to become.”
She nodded. Her palm tingled as she focused. A shaky square flickered into existence above her hand — edges jittering, surfaces glitching with digital noise. It cracked with a sharp snap, then collapsed into harmless static that dissolved on the wind.
Pomni sighed, shoulders slumping. “…Again.”
Kinger chuckled warmly, the sound muffled by the bucket. “Again.”
——
The next attempt lasted longer.
Then the next.
Triangles became circles. Circles became cubes. Eventually the forms stopped flickering altogether, solidifying with a satisfying, low thrum of stabilized code.
Whenever one failed, Pomni frowned at herself, brows knitting tightly. “I almost had it…”
Kinger never sounded disappointed. “You got farther than last time.”
His steady patience was a quiet anchor in the gray expanse.
——
After enough practice, they were repairing holes together.
Kinger would create the base — a sturdy black plate stretching across the void. Pomni would reinforce it, her hands moving with growing confidence as she layered code until the patch felt seamless. Soon they worked almost without speaking, the rhythm of creation the only sound besides the occasional distant crack of new damage forming elsewhere.
Another crack split open near the entrance with a sharp, tearing sound. Pomni reacted before Kinger even looked up. She stretched out her hand. A solid plate materialized instantly, sliding neatly across the gap with a clean click. The purple glow beneath dimmed and vanished as the floor sealed.
Kinger smiled proudly beneath his bucket. “I think you’ve got it.”
——
Word spread quickly.
Whenever another hole appeared — a jagged rip in the wall, a sudden collapse near the stage — someone would call out:
“Pomni!”
She’d jog over, shoes echoing across the checkered floor, heart beating a little faster each time. She’d seal it with steady hands and a reassuring smile. Then move to the next one.
Without realizing it… everyone had started depending on her.
——
Later that evening…
Pomni found Ragatha sitting outside the abandoned Café Cirque. The once-cheerful building looked washed out and lonely under the dim sky. Ragatha stared quietly at the gray mountains beyond the circus fence, her single visible eye distant.
Pomni sat beside her without a word. The ground felt cool and slightly uneven beneath them. Neither spoke for a long while, the silence broken only by the faint static breeze.
Finally, Ragatha’s voice came soft and cracked. “…Do you ever wonder what she’s doing? My mom.” She hugged her knees tighter to her chest. “I keep thinking… what if she’s worried? What if she thinks I just disappeared?”
Pomni swallowed hard, the lump in her throat refusing to budge. “I don’t know.”
Ragatha laughed weakly, the sound brittle. “I don’t even know if she’d miss me.”
Pomni gently bumped her shoulder against Ragatha’s. “I think she would.”
“…How?”
Pomni looked toward the empty horizon, where the gray sky met the faded landscape. “Because… if she’s anything like you… she’d never stop hoping.”
Ragatha smiled through watery eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. After another quiet minute, she asked, “Are you okay?”
Pomni answered almost instantly. “Yeah.” A beat. “Of course.”
The response came so quickly Ragatha didn’t question it. Instead, she leaned her head against Pomni’s shoulder. Pomni quietly wrapped an arm around her, holding steady even as exhaustion tugged at the edges of her mind.
——
The next day…
Pomni found Gangle sitting on the floor outside her room. The comedy mask rested beside her, expression frozen in artificial cheer. Gangle wasn’t crying. She wasn’t smiling. She simply stared ahead with hollow eyes.
Pomni sat beside her. The hallway floor felt cold against her legs.
After a long silence, Gangle whispered, “…Is something wrong with me?”
Pomni blinked. “What?”
“I… Sometimes I cry. Usually I cry.” Gangle looked down at her ribbon hands. “But now, when I think about…everything… I don’t feel anything.” She hugged her knees tighter. “I feel guilty when I don’t cry.”
Pomni shook her head gently. “That doesn’t make you a bad person. Everyone grieves differently. There isn’t one ‘right’ way.”
Gangle looked uncertain. “…Really?”
Pomni nodded. “You don’t have to react the right way. You just have to let yourself feel what you feel.”
Gangle smiled faintly. “…How do you always know what to say?”
Pomni laughed softly. “Oh. I panic internally until something useful comes out.”
Gangle giggled. Across the hallway, Ragatha overheard and laughed too. Even Zooble, passing nearby, let out a quiet snort.
——
Later…
Zooble was sitting on the balcony overlooking the Circus, legs dangling over the edge, the Void yawning far below. A cool, static-laced breeze tugged at their mismatched parts.
Pomni quietly joined them. Neither spoke at first.
Finally, Zooble muttered, “I hate this place.”
Pomni nodded. “I know.”
“I hate Caine.”
“…Yeah.”
“I hate that stupid exit.”
Silence.
“I hate that I actually believed it.”
Pomni stayed quiet. She simply listened, letting Zooble’s anger spill out like water over stones. Several minutes passed before Zooble finally groaned.
“…You’re annoying.”
Pomni blinked. “What?”
“You never argue. You just… sit there until I calm down.” Zooble waved a hand vaguely. “Talking to you makes it difficult to stay angry.”
Pomni smiled sheepishly. “Sorry?”
“Don’t.” Zooble rolled their eyes, but there was a reluctant softness in their voice.
——
Throughout all of it…
Jax stayed away.
Whenever Pomni saw him, he was alone — watching from distant rooftops with sharp, narrowed eyes, standing beside newly repaired holes like a ghost, or sitting by himself in the empty Café Cirque, staring into nothing.
More than once she started walking toward him, footsteps quickening with quiet determination.
“Pomni!”
She turned. Ragatha was struggling to stabilize a repaired crack nearby, patches flickering unstably.
Pomni smiled apologetically toward where Jax had been. He was already gone, vanished into the gray shadows.
⸻
Another day.
Pomni spotted him again near the stage. She took a step forward.
“Pomni?”
Kinger waved from across the tent. “I could use another pair of hands.”
She hesitated, gaze lingering on Jax’s retreating figure. The weight of everyone’s needs pulled at her like invisible strings.
“…Coming!”
She hurried off.
Jax never looked back.
And neither of them noticed that, little by little…
Every time Pomni tried to reach him…
Someone else needed her first.
The days began to blur together.
Morning. Afternoon. Night. None of it mattered anymore. There was always something to fix.
Cracks split across the floor without warning. Voices called her name from every direction. Pomni would smile — sometimes after the briefest hesitation — and hurry over. She helped Ragatha steady trembling patches while the doll-like woman fought back tears. She gently repaired Gangle’s comedy mask when it fractured again, listening as the ribbon girl whispered about feeling nothing at all. She knelt beside Zooble on the balcony, coaxing their detached limbs back into place with careful, steady code. She reinforced Kinger’s flickering platforms before they could collapse into the Void.
Every voice blended into one endless chorus: “Pomni?” “Pomni!” “Pomni…”
And she answered every time.
Across the tent, Jax watched quietly. Their eyes met. Pomni took a step toward him — but before she could close the distance, another voice echoed. Ragatha again. A fresh crack. Pomni glanced back at Jax with an apologetic smile and hurried away. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked in the opposite direction.
Days continued to pass. The repairs became easier. The requests became more frequent. Nobody meant anything by it. Pomni was simply… the one who knew how. The one who listened. The one who fixed things.
She never stopped smiling.
But something about it had changed. The smile no longer appeared immediately. There was always that tiny pause first — like she had to remember to put it on.
At night, while the others slept, Pomni stayed awake. She moved from crack to crack, sealing them until her hands shook and her vision swam with static. “If I get faster…” she whispered, “…then nobody will have to worry.”
Eventually she stopped going to bed altogether. She practiced instead — circles, squares, bridges, supports — pushing until her fingers trembled and her head throbbed. The few times exhaustion forced her down, her sleep was anything but restful. Dreams of the others abstracting played on repeat. She always ran toward them. She always arrived too late.
The hallucinations started small.
Her reflection rolled its eyes in the café window beside Ragatha. A noir version of herself mouthed I don’t care behind Gangle. Her shadow grinned with sharp teeth and hissed Worthless during repairs. Whispers followed her through empty hallways — “You can’t save them… You couldn’t save Kaufmo… You couldn’t save Jax…” — and she sometimes glimpsed another her curled in corners, crying silently.
Pomni took a shaky breath each time. “The Circus is still unstable,” she told herself. “Just glitches.” She didn’t tell anyone. Everyone else already had enough to worry about.
The circus was quieter than usual.
Simply tired. The gray canvas sagged overhead, and the constant low static hum felt heavier, like the whole world was exhaling after holding its breath too long.
Pomni knelt beside another fresh crack in the floor, one hand stretched toward it. A black plate slowly formed, wavering unsteadily. She steadied it with a careful breath before sliding it over the opening. The purple glow from the Void vanished beneath it.
“…There.”
She let out a quiet sigh and stood — only to notice someone standing a few feet away.
Jax.
He had probably been there for a while. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, ears twitching nervously. He looked like he wanted to bolt.
“…Hey,” Pomni said with a tired smile.
Jax opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “…”
Pomni waited.
He scratched the back of his neck. “…Never mind.” He turned to leave.
Pomni reached out without thinking, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “…No.”
Jax stopped. Slowly, he looked back at her hand, then at her.
Pomni tried to laugh. “You don’t get to do that. You can’t walk all the way over here, look like you’re about to confess to a murder, and then say ‘never mind.’”
Jax smirked weakly. “Pretty sure I just did.”
“…Jax.”
Something in her voice made the joke die immediately. Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Finally, Jax sighed. “…I was gonna ask something.”
Pomni nodded. “So ask.”
He stared out across the gray circus. “…How? How do you keep doing this?” He motioned toward the repaired floor. “Helping everybody. Acting like things are gonna get better. Running around fixing every problem that shows up… Like none of it’s destroying you.”
Pomni looked away. “I just… somebody has to.”
Jax frowned. “…That’s not an answer.”
“It kind of is.”
“No.” He shook his head. “That’s an excuse.”
Pomni let go of his wrist. Jax immediately took half a step backward, but she grabbed his sleeve this time.
“You remember what I told everyone after the exit?” she said quietly. “‘We’re all in this together.’ That includes you.”
Jax laughed once. It wasn’t amused. “It shouldn’t.” He looked down at his hands. “…I get it now. The circus. The people. Kaufmo. …Ribbit. They were real. I wasn’t just messing with cartoons. I was hurting… people.” His voice caught. “I don’t… I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with that.”
The silence stretched.
“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Pomni answered softly.
Jax looked at her. “…Why? Why do you care?” He laughed bitterly. “You know exactly what I’ve done. I’ve been awful to everybody. So why are you still standing here trying to help me?”
Pomni smiled. A real one. “Because you care too.”
Jax almost scoffed. “No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You really do.”
He folded his arms. “…Evidence?”
Pomni counted on her fingers. “You stayed behind to distract Caine. You gave us your keys. You came back when you said you would. You watch everyone when you think nobody notices.” She stepped a little closer. “And… you walked all the way over here.”
Silence.
“You almost asked for help.”
Jax’s ears flattened. He rubbed a hand over his face. “…Damn it.” He laughed weakly. “…Fine.” He threw both hands into the air. “I care, okay?!” The words echoed through the empty tent. He looked absolutely horrified that he’d said them. “I care about these idiots.” He pointed vaguely toward the others’ rooms. “I cared about Kaufmo. …I cared about Ribbit.” His voice cracked. “I care about all of you… and every time I do… somebody disappears.”
Before he could say anything else, Pomni stepped forward and hugged him.
Jax completely froze. His eyes widened. “…Uh…” He awkwardly held his hands in the air. “…Pomni?”
She didn’t let go.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then, very slowly, Jax’s hands lowered. One rested uncertainly against the back of her jester outfit. The other followed. His grip was light. Like he still wasn’t convinced he was allowed to do it.
Neither of them spoke.
The circus remained completely silent.
After a while, Jax noticed something. Pomni was shaking. Not crying. Actually trembling.
He frowned. “…Pomni.”
She hummed quietly.
“You don’t have to keep pretending.”
For just a fraction of a second, her grip tightened. Then she pulled away. A smile instantly appeared on her face. Too quickly. “I’m not pretending.”
Jax looked at her. The smile never reached her eyes.
She stepped backward. “I should check on everyone.”
Before he could stop her, she turned and walked away.
Jax watched until she disappeared around the corner. He remained standing there for a long time.
Finally, he sighed to himself.
“…Liar.”
And for the first time since arriving in the Circus, Jax was no longer the only one pretending everything was okay.
The Circus wasn’t healing anymore.
It was losing.
Every hole Kinger and Pomni repaired seemed to be replaced by two more. The gray world was unraveling faster than they could stitch it back together. A loud crack echoed overhead. Purple light burst violently through another wall, and the floor trembled beneath their feet like something alive and angry.
Pomni didn’t stop moving.
Another platform. Another bridge. Another patch. Her conjured shapes came slower now, flickering with unstable static before solidifying. Each one took more effort than the last. Sweat beaded on her face and stung her eyes. Her hands trembled with the strain.
Kinger gently touched her shoulder. “…Pomni.”
She looked up, vision slightly blurred.
“You should rest.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’ve been repairing holes all day.”
“I’m fine.”
Kinger hesitated. “…They’ll still be here tomorrow.”
Pomni shook her head. “But the holes might not.” Before he could answer, she was already running toward the next crack.
“Pomni!”
Ragatha hurried over, supporting Gangle. “Can you come for a second? Gangle’s mask keeps cracking again.”
“I’m coming!”
She conjured another patch without even looking.
“Pomni!”
Zooble called from above. “The platform over here keeps destabilizing!”
“One second!”
She sprinted toward them, legs burning.
“Pomni?”
Kinger’s voice again. “This bridge is starting to—”
“I KNOW!”
The words snapped out sharper than she intended. Silence fell instantly. Everyone stared.
Pomni froze. She looked from one face to another. Their surprised, concerned expressions cut deeper than the exhaustion ever could.
“…I’m—” She forced a smile, brittle and too wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” She rubbed her face hard. “I’m just tired.”
Nobody blamed her.
That somehow made it worse.
She immediately moved to Gangle, fixed the mask with shaking hands. Ran to Zooble and stabilized the platform. Helped Kinger reinforce the bridge. Kept smiling. Kept apologizing. Kept moving.
Later…
Only one visible crack remained — a long, jagged purple tear stretching through the middle of the tent like an open wound that refused to close. The air around it felt colder, charged with unstable static that made Pomni’s skin prickle.
She walked toward it alone, footsteps echoing softly across the faded checkered floor.
“…Just one more.”
She knelt, held out her hand, and focused. A black platform slowly began forming above the void, edges shimmering as she poured what little strength she had left into it.
Then—
“…Pomni?”
She looked over her shoulder. No one was there.
“…Pomni…”
The voice sounded farther away this time, drifting like an echo in a vast empty room.
“…Pomni.”
Another.
“…Pomni?”
“…Pomni…”
Soon every voice sounded the same. Ragatha’s gentle plea. Gangle’s soft whimper. Zooble’s reluctant call. Kinger’s quiet concern. Jax’s hesitant tone. They overlapped, calling her name again and again until the words blurred together and lost all meaning. It wasn’t even a name anymore. Just noise. Endless, demanding noise.
The platform cracked under the weight of her fracturing focus.
Pomni stared at it, eyes wide with desperation. “No…”
She concentrated harder, teeth clenched, breath coming in short gasps. “Come on…”
It shattered into useless static that dissolved on the cold air.
Something moved beside her.
Another Pomni stood there with an evil smile—a slow, knowing curve of the lips.
“They’re never going to stop needing you.”
Pomni squeezed her eyes shut, hands pressed to her temples. “Go away.”
Another voice answered from behind her, soft and trembling. “What happens when you fail?”
She turned. A frightened version of herself stood a few feet away — the Pomni from her very first day in the Circus, wide-eyed and shaking, hugging herself tightly. “What happens when you can’t save them?”
Pomni backed away. Sad Pomni appeared next, eyes swollen and red from endless crying. “What happens when they leave anyway?”
Then Evil Pomni stepped forward, arms folded, her grin sharp and cruel. “What happens when you finally admit you hate them for making you do this?”
“I don’t!” Pomni shouted, voice cracking. “I don’t hate them!”
Evil Pomni only smiled wider. “You never get to cry. You never get to stop. You never get to be scared. Because somebody always needs Pomni.”
The final figure appeared. Completely drained of color — black, white, and gray. Noir Pomni looked at her with blank, empty eyes.
“…Nothing happens.”
It slowly turned its head toward the widening hole. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
The crack beneath Pomni’s feet spread violently. The floor collapsed with a deafening groan.
Pomni stumbled backward, heart hammering. “No…”
She desperately reached toward the hole, fingers outstretched. “I can still fix this!”
She forced another platform into existence. It crumbled instantly. Again. And again. Static. Nothing. Static. Nothing. Her breathing grew frantic and ragged, the static in her mind roaring louder than the Void itself.
“I can fix it… I just need…”
Her own voices surrounded her in a suffocating chorus. “You can’t.” “You failed.” “They’re waiting.” “They need you.” “They’ll all disappear.”
The hole exploded open beneath her with a violent surge of purple light.
——
Far across the Circus, everyone heard the scream.
“Pomni?!”
Ragatha dropped what she was holding, eyes wide with fear. “Pomni!”
The group ran, footsteps pounding across the checkered floor.
Jax reached the center first. “…Pomni?!”
She stood alone at the edge of the widening Void. In her mind, surrounded by shadowy copies of herself that flickered and watched with hollow eyes. But to the eyes of the viewers, she stood alone.
Pomni slowly turned toward them. Her face looked terrifyingly empty. She still smiled — a small, exhausted smile that no longer belonged to her.
“…It’s okay.” She lifted a trembling hand toward the crack. “I can fi—”
The sentence never finished.
Her body glitched violently. One arm stretched unnaturally long, joints bending wrong. Colors tore away from her clothes like burning paper, dissolving into pixels. Her smile froze in place, too wide and unnatural. Her eyes dissolved into swirling static.
“Pomni?!”
Ragatha lunged forward, reaching desperately.
Too late.
With a deafening digital shriek that echoed through the entire tent, Pomni abstracted.
The creature that remained stumbled backward, its form twisting and folding in on itself into something grotesque and unrecognizable. It let out one final, distorted cry before bolting into the darkness of the Circus, vanishing between the gray curtains.
Silence swallowed everything.
No one moved.
Ragatha stared at the empty space where Pomni had been, her hand still outstretched. “…No…”
Gangle covered her mouth with trembling ribbons.
Zooble slowly stepped backward, expression unreadable but visibly shaken.
Kinger lowered his head, the bucket casting a long shadow over his face.
Jax stood perfectly still, fists clenched at his sides.
He remembered the last thing he’d told her: “You don’t have to keep pretending.”
And the last thing she’d said: “I’m not pretending.”
His ears slowly folded flat against his head.
“…You idiot.”
Not angry.
Heartbroken.
Because when she was right, she didn’t let him walk away.
But when he’d been right.
He let her walk away.
…Hope she’s ready for a warm embrace.