White. The Northern Top is a world of endless white—snowy, icy, and relentless. Snowflakes fall in a steady rhythm, never ceasing, as if the sky itself is draped in curtains made of frost. The mountains, the rolling hills, even the trees—all are cloaked in a cold, colorless shroud. There are no vibrant hues like the... the... The thought slips away, vanishing like the colors that once filled my mind.
"Alright, my spectacular performers!" Cyrus greets us, the sound disturbing against the quiet snowfall.
The Ringmaster stands before us, resplendent in a plush plum coat and equally furry plum pants. His gold boots glitter against the snowy backdrop, defying the bleak landscape.
Despite the biting cold, my scarlet coat and black boots keep me warm, a small comfort in this wintry expanse.
"We will perform three shows before moving on," Cyrus continues, his tone filled with the same enthusiasm that fills every part of his life. "Tonight and tomorrow, we'll be here. Then, on day three, we venture further north, to the northernmost part of the Northern Top, where there is no daylight."
The words hit me like a gust of icy wind. A place with no sun? How can that be possible?
I glance around, searching the faces of the others to see if anyone else shares my unease. Honey Blossom, without Pickens—who, according to her, finds the Northern Top too cold—gives me a reassuring wink. Her puffy pink coat stands out like a beacon of warmth amidst the whiteness, and snowflakes settle in her hair, making her look almost otherworldly.
"Don't worry," Honey Blossom says, soft and soothing. "It's not as scary as it sounds."
"Speak for yourself," Cosette mutters beside me, her shivering form an alarming contrast to her usual composure. "I can't stand the Northern Top. Too much snow."
"Surprising since it matches that icy heart of yours," Honey Blossom teases, trying to lighten the mood.
But Cosette's green eyes flash with irritation, her green velvet-clad shoulders stiffening in response.
"Oh, come on, Cosette." Honey Blossom rolls her eyes, exasperated. "It was only a joke."
"Your insults are much less tolerable when they come out of your mouth," Cosette retorts, icily, "instead of that stupid doll's."
Honey Blossom sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, while Cosette slinks away, her mood as dark as stormy clouds.
"Let's get to work!" Cyrus' eagerness echoes through the snowy expanse, snapping us all back to attention.
Everyone finds a task as I trail behind Nevaeh, my presence a silent shadow of hers, unsure where I fit in. Do I fit in?
Sleep eluded me last night, despite the warmth and comfort of my bed. My mind was restless, tracing the millions of tiny diamonds dotting the vast, empty sky outside the window as the train barreled through the rolling hills. Thoughts swirled, tangling into knots I couldn't unravel. My first performance, Theo's quiet resolve, Cyrus's unsettling magic, the scowl on Myrna MacFellow's face, Cosette's watchful eyes in the shadows, and Pickens with his untamed hair—they all played on a loop in my mind, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the train on the tracks. The only solace was Nevaeh's soft snores, a steady reminder that I wasn't alone, even as the train carried me further away from the only... the only...
"You're awfully quiet," Honey Blossom observes, handing me the end of a thick rope.
"The first night's always tough," Nevaeh says, her tone gentle. "Takes time to get used to the engine's sound."
"I'm not sure I ever will," I confess, barely audible.
"Heave!" someone shouts from the other side of the tent.
YOU ARE READING
Spectacular!
Fantasy"Smoke and mirrors are for cheap tricks and county fairs, Kenna," he says quietly. "The circus... the circus is where magic and mayhem collide." Nineteen-year-old Kenna Oberman leads a sheltered life taking care of her sickly mother until she's gift...
