Spectacular!

Chapter Nine

The black steam engine looms ahead, its dark smoke curling into the night sky as it sits motionless in the brittle grass, its massive wheels still and quiet, not even on a track. I stand in line behind Nevaeh, my heart lodged in my throat, pounding like a war drum. The animals enter the rear of the train one by one, crew members guiding them aboard with hurried hands and shouted commands. The air is thick with chaos—a swirling storm of noise, movement, and confusion that mirrors the tempest inside me.

The tears have long gone. Dried out by the dull ache in my chest. I don't want to leave. I don't know why, but the thought of stepping onto that train fills me with a deep, unshakable dread. Every time I try to grasp the reason, to hold onto a memory or a feeling, a cold block of ice settles in my mind, freezing everything in place. There's no pushing past it, no slipping around it—just an impenetrable silence.

I know if I fight it, I'll lose more pieces of myself, more fragments of whatever memories are left. But I'm already so empty, a blank slate lost in a fog of panic. My thoughts are slippery, dissipating into nothingness before I can even form them. My heart races, each beat echoing louder in my ears as I spiral deeper into the void. I don't know how to stop it, how to pull myself back from the edge.

Then, suddenly, something warm and solid brushes against my arm, grounding me in the midst of my unraveling. The icy block in my mind recedes, fading into the background, replaced by a fragile calm. I swallow hard, daring to peek through my lashes at the figure standing beside me.

The Sword Swallower.

His presence steadies me, and as his eyes shift ever so slightly to meet mine, I take a slow, calming breath. In this moment, amidst the chaos and the fear, he is an anchor. And for now, that's enough.

The Ringmaster is nowhere in sight, and the mere thought of him appearing unexpectedly sends a jolt through my heart. Magic—it's bewildering and complex, and I find no comfort in it, none of the awe that Fendrel and the crowds beneath the Big Top seem to share.

The line moves forward, and the Sword Swallower steps behind me, his presence a guiding force amid the noise and chaos. We file silently, one by one, up the steel steps into the first car. The interior is simple, exactly what I'd expect of a train: plush red seating, gold-trimmed accents, and the faint, musty scent of old fabric and travel.

There's a subdued current among the performers, as if all the magic has drained out of them now that the tents are packed away and Cyrus is absent. The energy that once filled the circus seems to have vanished, leaving behind a quiet resignation.

"You're rooming with me," Nevaeh whispers softly, her voice a gentle interruption in the stillness. "Honey Blossom and Freya will be in the adjoining car."

I offer her a small, grateful smile. "Okay."

"The boys are a few cars down," she continues, as if sensing the lingering panic in my eyes and trying to soothe it with conversation.

"What about Cyrus?" I mumble only loud enough for her to hear. "Where does he sleep?"

"He's already in his car," she replies, and I feel a wave of relief wash over me. "He stays with the elephants."

My brow furrows in confusion. "The elephants?"

"Yeah," Nevaeh says, her tone laced with an apprehension. "It's where he sleeps best."

I don't know what to make of this information, but I file it away, keeping it close, hoping it will stick in a place where I can easily recall it later. Somewhere safe, away from the icy block in my mind.

The Sword Swallower remains silent, of course, but I can feel his breath lightly tickling the back of my head, a subtle reminder that I'm not alone.

"What's the Northern Top like?" I ask Nevaeh as the line comes to a standstill.