Scorched | Bewitchment #2

Chapter Three (Part 1 of 2)

The gate slid open, hinges squealing, to reveal a canvas of darkness. Then slowly the circus came into view, bathed in light.

A dozen smells wafted out from within – hot, buttery popcorn and rich, chocolate fudge, roasted peanuts and earthy mulled cider. Stars scattered across the sky, burning bright and fat as diamonds. A stark contrast to the soft wisps of morning beginning to brighten the city.

Peeking over the horizon, a full moon rose, signaling that the night had just started. And fanned out across the dark landscape were six tents, glowing with a rainbow of lights – purple and red, pink and gold. At the center stood the Big Top, towering so high that the stars swallowed its peak.

On circus ground, the morning never came. As long as evening blanketed Pandemonium, the lines blurred between the known and the unknown. Dreams, nightmares, and waking moments seeped into each other like colors bleeding together.

Daylight invited clear definition, black and white answers, drawing battle lines between fact and fiction. But in the dark, where silver starlight and golden spells ruled in any way they wished to, it was easier to believe the impossible was real. Monsters. Magic. And everything in between.

Boss clucked to the horses. The caravan rolled through the gates and disappeared into the shadows. Kali could still hear his voice, echoing as he coaxed the audience forward.

"Come on now, don't be shy! Just hold out your ticket and Pandemonium will take it as soon as you're free of the gate. And remember, if you don't have a ticket, the circus will know! So don't try any sneaking about..."

When the caravan finally came to a stop, Boss's voice was only a distant hum, punctuated by the laughter and murmuring voices of the audience.

Kali didn't move. Her body throbbed. Her hands pulsed with pain, cradled in her lap. And the last thing she wanted to do was face the public again.

But the opening act was barely over. Now she had her own act to perform, casting even more spells than before.

Kali tipped her head back against the wagon. She heard the other performers emerging - the rustle of Wren and Lark's wings, the tinkling chime of jewelry from Queenie, the dragging shuffle of Osiris's uneven gait, accompanied by the heavy thud of his crutches.

They sounded as if they were worlds away while Kali stayed huddled in the dark.

"Why isn't Kali coming out?" Wren whispered, her thin, nervous voice strained by worry.

"You saw what happened," Lark hissed. "She lost control."

Kali winced and drew her knees up to her chest, making herself smaller. It was bad enough that she had an entire audience to witness her failure. But it felt even worse, knowing the crew had seen her slip, too.

"One of us should talk to her," Wren said. "She's probably scared. I know I would be."

"That's because you're scared of everything," Lark countered.

"I am not," Wren sulked.

"Yes, you are."

"That's enough," Osiris said, the deep smoothness of his voice cutting through their high-pitched squabbling.

"Why are you all tiptoeing around her?" Lark demanded. "We always knew something would go wrong with Kali eventually. She's never been exactly stable."

"Lark," Queenie chastised. "That's not true."

"Fine."

Lark stomped up to Kali's wagon and yanked the door open. Light streamed into Kali's face from the surrounding tents. She shied away, hunching her shoulders against the glare. Without thinking, she raised her hand to shield her eyes.