Darkwood: Circus Inferno

Prologue

***

The night sky over Darkwood was eerily still, shrouded in thick clouds that blocked out the moonlight. The air, heavy and oppressive, seemed to pulse with something sinister just beneath the surface, as though the forest itself held its breath. The only sounds that pierced the silence were the occasional rustle of wind through the trees and the distant howls of unknown creatures.

At the edge of the town, a forgotten clearing lay dormant, a place long abandoned and left to the whims of nature. Overgrown weeds stretched toward the heavens, and crumbling remnants of old carnival tents and faded banners whispered of a forgotten past. Yet, tonight, something was different. The ground trembled ever so slightly, an unnatural vibration, as if the very earth sensed a dark force rising once again.

In the dead of night, a low, haunting tune began to play, seemingly carried by the wind. It was the faint melody of an old circus tune—one that was cheerful, yet unsettling, each note infused with a discordant undercurrent. Soon, lights flickered to life in the clearing, dim at first, then brighter, casting a crimson hue across the forgotten space. Lanterns swayed on invisible strings, and the smell of burnt sugar and sulfur filled the air.

Out of the shadows stepped a figure. His impish grin stretched unnaturally wide across his face, his eyes gleaming with mischief and malice. He wore the garb of a circus ringmaster—a top hat, blood-red coat with gold buttons, and long, coattail draped in shadows. But there was something otherworldly about him, something twisted beneath the showman’s exterior.

"Ahh... finally," the ringmaster purred, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down the spine. "The time has come. The circus is reborn."

Behind him, more figures emerged, grotesque silhouettes with exaggerated features. Twisted clowns, malformed acrobats, and skeletal performers gathered around, their eyes hollow but filled with a burning hunger. They moved with unnatural grace, as if tethered to invisible strings controlled by some unseen force.

In the center of it all stood the circus tent—a towering structure of black and red fabric, the top disappearing into the night sky. Flames licked the edges of the tent, but instead of burning it down, the fire seemed to fuel it, growing brighter and more intense with each flicker. The fire was not natural; it was infernal, alive with an unholy presence.

The ringmaster waved a hand, and a carnival barker's voice echoed through the clearing, the sound distorted, as if pulled from a nightmare.

"Ladies and gentlemen, step right up! Come one, come all, to the greatest show in Darkwood! A spectacle of horror, a carnival of chaos! Feast your eyes on wonders beyond imagination, terrors beyond belief! The Circus Inferno is here!"

The figures, monstrous and grotesque, began to move, each taking their place in the unfolding nightmare. The ringmaster turned to his performers, his grin stretching even wider.

“Soon, they’ll come,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “And when they do… the real show begins.”

In the distance, the first flicker of dawn was still hours away, but already, the town of Darkwood stirred. Unbeknownst to its inhabitants, a new horror was creeping into their lives. And as the circus flared to life once more, a dark force set its sights on the town, ready to engulf all who dared to enter its deadly embrace.

The circus had returned.

And it would burn everything in its path.