Darkwood: Circus Inferno

Family Casualties

Greyson's heart clenched in his chest as the sound of Tixo's anguished cries tore through the air, distant yet unmistakable. The raw, guttural sobs rang out like a desperate plea for mercy, each one more haunting than the last. His entire body tensed, and without a word, he set his jaw and signaled for the group to move.

"That's him," Greyson muttered, eyes narrowing. "We need to get to him—now."

With no hesitation, Ren and Elion followed, their faces grim and determined. Zephyr, already aware of the dangers that awaited them in the circus, led the charge, drawing on his magic to clear the path. Each member of the group fought their way through the grotesque circus freaks—sharp blades, fire-spitting performers, and monstrous contortions that twisted with unnatural energy. But their resolve was unwavering. They fought with one purpose: to reach Tixo.

Every swing of a blade, every burst of energy from Ren’s magic, every arrow fired by Sterling was a step closer to finding their friend. They tore through the grotesque throng, their strikes landing with precision, but each moment was agonizingly slow. The circus was designed to delay them, to exhaust them. But they pushed forward.

Meanwhile, high above, Wei was already airborne, his wings slicing through the air with fierce grace. The cries echoed in his ears, tearing through his thoughts like an overwhelming storm. His heart beat faster in sync with the calls for help. He knew it was Tixo. The desperation, the sorrow in his voice… it was unmistakable.

Wei’s gaze scanned the chaotic expanse below, his sharp eyes finally catching sight of the stage. The eerie, familiar structure stood out amidst the madness, a dark symbol of what they had come to fear. Without hesitation, he flew downward, his talons cutting through the air, the wind rushing past him.

As he descended, he spotted the group charging forward, their efforts marred by the circus freaks that clogged their path. In an instant, he swooped down in a blur, his wings outstretched, cutting through the crowd as he landed before them.

The group froze for a moment, startled by Wei's sudden appearance. His presence, normally serene, was now taut with urgency and purpose.

“Wei?” Ren asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and concern.

Wei’s gaze flickered toward the distance. He pointed toward the stage, his sharp talons cutting through the air. His voice, always gentle, now held a hint of desperation as he finally spoke, the first words since the silence that had followed Tixo’s earlier outburst.

“Tixo’s... there.”

Without waiting for another word, Wei took to the sky again, urging the group to follow him. The winds around him seemed to obey, guiding him as he led them toward the stage.

The group followed close behind, fighting their way through the chaos that still raged around them. Their steps quickened, propelled by a growing sense of urgency. They could hear the cries of anguish grow louder the closer they got, each cry ripping at their hearts.

Finally, they arrived at the stage, just in time to witness the ringmaster’s figure disappearing into the shadows, his silhouette fading into the eerie night. Tixo was still kneeling before the lifeless body of Ambrose, his body trembling uncontrollably, his claws digging into the bloodstained stage as he sobbed.

The ringmaster’s laughter still lingered in the air, a cruel echo of victory. But it was clear—he had left, perhaps sensing the arrival of the group, or perhaps simply savoring his victory for the moment.